A while later, when they were both done, they lay together in bed, her head against his chest.
“Why’d you do it, Jake?”
“I think you did it to me.”
“No. I mean last night. Why’d you give me the sleeping pills?”
He didn’t try to deny it, knowing she would probably know the side-effects of having been drugged the night before. “I needed to go somewhere and I didn’t want you insisting on coming along.”
She raised her eyes to his. “That sounded like the truth, Jake.”
“It was.”
“Why not just tell me last night? You must be open with me. I can take it.”
Now he felt like crap. Of course she could. “But if you’d said that to me last night, I would have followed you. I assumed you’d do the same.”
She laughed under her breath. “You’re right. I probably would have followed you. Are you going to tell me what you found out?”
He explained to her his relationship with the station chief and how Jake wanted to make sure the Agency wouldn’t get involved at this point. He left out some of the irrelevant information, like how he’d actually broken into the man’s house. It was nice to keep a little mystery in whatever relationship they had at this point.
“Oh. I thought it might be a woman.”
“No. I can only handle one at a time. Although two has always sounded kind of interesting.”
“I agree,” she said smiling. “But where would we find the other man?”
“Wow. A German with a sense of humor. I can die now.”
“You’re Scottish, but also part German. Am I right? You forget about that part?”
“Not at all. I struggle every day to keep order in my life. I can be as precise as a diamond cutter. The other part of me forces me to be late for appointments once in a while, to forget birthdays, or to run naked through the streets.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“First let’s go check out the meet site during the daylight.”
“Agreed.”
They got dressed and left.
30
Nearing midnight, Jake sat in the passenger seat of Alexandra’s car as she drove along Muhlenstrasse in Berlin’s southeast industrial area, the Spree River to the west and major railroad tracks to the east. Earlier in the day the place looked like a bad idea to walk alone. At night Jake guessed it was a rat-infested hell-hole, with every lowlife in the city tagging trains with anarchist symbols and gang graffiti. It was literally the south-central of the city. Jake was glad he carried both of his Beretta handguns in .40 caliber, with multiple extra magazines, and the Glock he had gotten from Franz.
“What you thinking?” she asked him.
They’d spent most of the day hanging low. Resting up. With Jake’s image from Baden-Baden still streaming across computers and TV broadcasts, he didn’t want to get picked up by the Polizei at this point. He was too close to finding out the truth about Anna, and about why someone wanted damn near every former intelligence officer from the Cold War whacked.
“Thinking this would be a nice place to build some high-end condos. Plant some trees. Maybe a garden here or there.”
“Really? I was thinking a good firebombing would help.”
“Think that already happened.” He checked his watch. They were fifteen minutes early. He guessed his contact would be fifteen minutes late, but would be watching him get out of the car from somewhere close by.
She slowed the car as they approached the drop point. “Are you sure you want to do this alone?”
Her Service was expecting her to set up a meeting for tomorrow, coordinated with the BND office in Berlin. But she’d put them off, saying the meeting was changed.
He didn’t have a choice. “They’ll be watching me get out. Let’s just stick with the plan.”
Stopping along the deserted street, Jake started to open the door but she grabbed his arm and stopped him. Pulling him back to her, she planted a long kiss on his lips. “You be careful, Jake.”
He nodded and got out, closing the door behind him.
Alexandra pulled away slowly and soon had wound around a corner, still following the river.
The air was cold and damp as Jake walked toward the river along the concrete. The area had once been used to offload barges with something, probably coal, and hadn’t seen the revitalization money from the reunification of Germany in the 90s.
He could hear and smell the river ahead, the lights from more affluent areas across the river shone on the surface, his only light source. As he approached his contact point, he tried to remember everything he’d noticed earlier in the day. There was almost no place for anyone to hide here. It was the perfect meeting place from their point of view. For Jake it couldn’t have been less favorable. He was out in the open. Cornered against the river. No cover from the shooter. It was places just like this throughout the city where bodies had been found, shot to death from close range. That was Jake’s only optimistic point. At least the shooter killed from close in and not with a high-powered rifle. He hoped they wouldn’t change their pattern now, because he needed to talk with this guy. Unlike the men who’d come for him in Austria, this guy would know something about something.
Exposed and isolated, Jake stuffed his hands into his pockets for warmth.
Suddenly a soft shuffling shook his attention toward the Spree. Moving just his eyes, he caught the shape of a large rat about the size of a cat scurry along the edge of the water wall. Jesus he hated rats.
He was near shivering a half hour later when he heard the sputtering car come off the main road a hundred meters away and angle toward him. The guy knew it was cold and wanted Jake’s muscles to be stiff and non-reactive. Exactly what he would have done.
The car caught Jake in its headlights and came right toward him before squealing to a halt just ten feet in front of him, cutting the lights so those passing by on the road, which were few, wouldn’t see them there. The tired engine shut down, and Jake thought it might never start again.
With the lights out, Jake could see the car better. It was an older dark BMW. Probably charcoal or black. He could also see the silhouette of the driver and perhaps nobody else in the car, unless they were crouching down.
The driver’s door opened but no overhead light came on. A tall man stepped out and stamped the last of a cigarette into the concrete. The door remained open, the man behind it. He looked too young to be at this meeting.
“Throw your gun into the river,” the man said, his accent clearly Russian.
“Screw you!”
“You want your money, you do as I say.”
Crap. Jake guessed it might come to this. Did he have a choice? Yeah, he had a choice. He could just continue to tell this guy to go screw himself and head back to Innsbruck. But then more men would continue to come. How many could he kill? Would he finally slip up?
“This is an expensive gun,” Jake said.
“A million Euros could buy a lot more,” the Russian declared.
“Yeah, but this one has sentimental value.” All of his guns had been like friends to him.
The Russian started to get back into the car.
“All right,” Jake yelled. “I thought Russians had patience.” He reached to his right side and removed the Glock from his hip holster. With one reluctant back throw, he sent that gun into the dark water of the Spree.
“Now the other one,” the Russian demanded.
If he got rid of that one, he could be in trouble. He’d only have one left. “First you show me the money.” Jake took a couple steps toward the Russian.
The man pulled a gun from behind the door and aimed it at Jake. “I said to get rid of your other gun.”
“I do that and you shoot me,” Jake reasoned.