The woman’s hand flew to her forehead before she stepped into her living room and collapsed on the couch. “I-I don’t know. He won’t tell me. I found him tied up in the basement. Someone had beaten him.”
Jelen turned to his partner. “Call it in.”
Krakowski pulled out his phone, stepping outside to update their status as footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.
“What is it, Mom?” The young man spotted Jelen, his eyes widening, terror on his face leaving Jelen to worry another eruption of excrement was about to occur. “Wh-what do you want?”
Jelen stared at the swollen face and welts covering the exposed upper torso, only a towel covering the important bits. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Tell me now, or I take you to the station and you will tell me there.”
“I’ve got rights!”
“Yes, you do, but right now, I’m here investigating reports of a woman screaming, I find you beaten up, and your mother telling me you were tied up in the basement.”
“Mom!”
“I want answers, and I want them now!”
Stefan was trembling now. “If I tell you, they’ll kill me.”
“Who?”
“The men who did this.”
Jelen lowered his voice, trying to calm the young man down and entice the information he needed from him. “What did they want?”
“What are you, some kind of moron? I just told you that they’ll kill me if I tell you!”
Jelen jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “My partner is already calling it in. It’s about to be part of the official record. If they really meant what they said, then you better tell me everything you know now, so we can arrest them, or you just may die.”
A stream of urine flowed down Stefan’s leg, and the story from his mouth.
23
Route A1, Poland
Acton suspected the reason they weren’t bound and gagged, and their heads weren’t covered, was for the simple fact their captors wanted everything to appear perfectly normal to prying eyes.
And he was taking full advantage of the opportunity.
They were heading south on Route A1, and from the distances displayed to major cities, he suspected they were eventually leaving the country.
Yet that knowledge did them little good, and the fact they were afforded it, and full view of the faces of their captors, had him worried that when their ordeal was complete, they would be dead.
Their captors had already killed two and shot one, then trapped over a dozen inside perhaps to die. They clearly had no scruples that would keep him and his wife alive.
He decided to fish for information, almost nothing said for the last hour of driving. “How long will we be traveling?”
“Shut up.”
Acton frowned, this apparently a fruitless endeavor.
Perhaps I can create an opportunity.
“Well, it’s just that if we’re traveling for too long, we’re going to need some pee breaks. I have an overactive bladder, and if I don’t pee every two or three hours, I’ll be making a mess back here.”
“Bullshit.”
Acton shrugged. “Your choice. I had asparagus last night, so it’s going to get nasty in here.”
“If one drop hits this car, I kill your wife.”
“Threaten all you want, but we both know that if you touch her, I don’t cooperate, and you need me to authenticate things, not her. I’m the expert on the Amber Room, not her. Her specialty is Ancient Egypt.”
The man turned in his seat and glared at him. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll kill the both of you, and find another expert.”
Acton stared at him. “Fine, but I’ll still need that pee break in about two hours.”
24
Medical Examiner’s Office
Berlin, Nazi Germany
January 31, 1945
Detective Inspector Vogel stared at the almost unrecognizable face of the beating victim spoken of by the two officers at his office. Despite the injuries, there could be no doubt as to who it was.
Dieter Maier.
Whoever had done this—and he had a pretty good idea who—hadn’t wanted the man to be recognizable. While his entire body had sustained significant injuries, and those were likely the cause of death, particular attention had been paid to the face, mostly by shoes and boots.
“So, do you know him?”
Vogel glanced at the Medical Examiner, Hans Naumann. “No, not with that face. He loosely matches a missing persons case I’m working on, but it’s the wrong color hair. Any idea who did this?”
Naumann shook his head. “The officers who brought him in said it was most likely Jews. I don’t believe that nonsense for a second. Even if there were any left in the city, they wouldn’t be targeting innocent people. Not like this.” He frowned, staring down at the face. “Somebody didn’t want us recognizing this man. The question is why.”
“You’ll figure it out eventually.”
Naumann grunted then covered the body. “Perhaps, but if I don’t within the next few months, I think it might be some Russian’s job.”
Vogel glanced around to make sure they were alone as Naumann sat at his desk, pulling out a lunchbox. He unwrapped a meager looking sandwich and held up half. “Hungry?”
Vogel shook his head. “I don’t know how you can eat in here.”
Naumann shrugged. “If a little blood and guts got me upset, I’d never eat.”
Vogel frowned, gesturing at him. “It looks like you barely do, regardless.”
Naumann pulled at his loose clothing. “My wife had to take in my pants a third time just last week. I think I’m down at least ten kilos.”
Vogel absentmindedly ran a finger over his chest, his ribcage a little more prominent than it used to be, the rations not enough. “Yet you offer me half your sandwich.”
Naumann grinned. “Only because I knew you wouldn’t accept!”
Vogel laughed then headed for the door. “I’ll see you too soon, my friend.”
A mumbled reply was offered, Naumann’s mouth full. As Vogel headed for his car, he weaved this new factor into the overall mosaic confronting him. A railway engineer, likely Hermann Lang, was dead, officially shot by partisans, though Vogel had his doubts. If it were the case, then Erika Lang would have been notified. The fact she hadn’t been, told him that either it wasn’t her husband that was killed, or he wasn’t killed by partisans, but by somebody that didn’t want questions asked. The fact Hermann Lang was missing, and she was under surveillance by the Gestapo, was proof enough to him that he was indeed the dead engineer that Dieter Maier had referred to.
And now Maier was dead.
There was only one reason he was dead, and that was because he knew something the Gestapo didn’t want him knowing. Likely it was linked to the death of Hermann Lang. Maier had been sent to collect a locomotive after its engineer was killed. Whoever was behind this, obviously needed the locomotive returned, and not just anyone could operate one of the massive vehicles.
They needed an engineer.
That would explain why Maier had been exposed to some bit of information that they didn’t want out there. Perhaps they had hoped he could be trusted to keep his mouth shut, but the combination of Frau Lang and himself showing up within 24 hours of his return, probably raised alarm bells with those watching them. Or, perhaps they had always intended on killing him, and had simply waited for him to return to Berlin, where it was more plausible for him to be beaten to death in the back alleys of a desperate city, rather than a tightly controlled railyard in Poland.
Either way, one was dead, and he was quite certain so was the other, leaving two widows behind who were likely in danger too. One had already been under surveillance, probably waiting for her to do something that they could pick her up for, thus preventing uncomfortable questions about her missing husband. The other was probably still under surveillance despite the beating death of her husband, as he
was certain the Gestapo would be concerned she had been told something by him.
The bottom line was that both were now in trouble.
And he was sick of innocent lives constantly being destroyed in the final days of a failed empire.
They have to leave Berlin.
The answer was obvious, though not the solution. How could two women escape Berlin? Where would they go? He knew the Langs had sent their child out of the city. Perhaps if Frau Lang were to join her daughter, she would be safe, though it would be the first place the Gestapo would look.
And that was another problem. With the Gestapo watching both, their departures would have to be coordinated, and even if he were inclined to help, he was but one man, and couldn’t ask anyone else to risk their lives helping him.
A smile crept up the side of his face as he pulled out onto the street.
Gruber!
Gruber was the exact type of vermin he needed for this situation. The man was a parasite, his father so well connected in the Nazi Party that he was untouchable, despite the fact every law enforcement officer in the city knew he was into human smuggling. Whether it was Jews, homosexuals, or the mentally handicapped, he could move them.
For a price.
A price unaffordable on a detective inspector’s salary.
But leverage was valuable. And if Gruber agreed, they would both have leverage over each other, leverage that was only important until the war was over.
Which couldn’t come soon enough.
25
Inselhotel Potsdam
Potsdam, Germany
Present Day
Tommy groaned as Mai wrapped her legs around him, pulling him tighter. He had only been with two other women in his life, neither of whom he had feelings for, and he wondered if that was why it felt so much better.
She was incredible.
Their two bodies meshed so well, it was as if they each knew what the other wanted without having to ask.
Though it hadn’t always been that way.
In fact, the first few times had been downright awkward, though now they were like pros.
And it felt so good when you actually knew what you were doing.
He froze in mid-play. “Oh shit, I forgot to check the cellphone signals!”
Mai grabbed his face with both hands, staring into his eyes. “Don’t you dare stop!”
“But—!”
“Finish it! Now!”
He grinned and resumed, putting it into high gear, and within minutes, they were both shouting in ecstasy, enough to elicit a pounded wall shared by their bed and another guest. He rolled off her, gasping for breath. “Fast enough for you?”
She lay beside him, her arms and legs spread out like a starfish. “Oh yeah.”
“One for the record books?”
“I don’t think speed is a record you want to be known for.”
He chuckled. “Good point.” He drifted off, his body spent and completely content.
“Forgetting something?”
He was suddenly concerned and rolled over. “I’m sorry, did you not…”
She patted his cheek. “Oh, don’t worry, I did.” She pointed at his laptop.
“Oh shit!” He leaped from the bed and grabbed his computer, returning to bring the map back up. He frowned. “It’s still dead. Something is definitely wrong.”
Mai sat up beside him, staring at the dead zone. “We better call Dean Milton right away.”
26
South of Kwidzyn (formerly Marienwerder), Poland
Officer Jelen opened the door before his partner even brought them to a stop, the fact something had happened here, immediately evident. He opened the rear door, letting a much better smelling Stefan out. He had told them everything, showing them the Facebook posting that had apparently led to his assault, and had even offered to show them where it had been taken, something Jelen couldn’t pass up.
A chance to see the Amber Room?
He had heard of it, of course, his father a history buff. The man would kill to be here with him, and perhaps he might just find a way for him to experience what Stefan claimed to have seen yesterday.
The young man pointed at what appeared to be a collapsed mine entrance. “I dug that out yesterday. Everything was grown over, and the professors found a cinderblock wall. Look!” He pointed to a pile of debris. “I put that there.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand. Where is everybody?”
“Look at this.”
Jelen rounded the car to join his partner near the entrance, and tensed, immediately spinning on his heel, surveying the area at the sight of at least half a dozen shell casings and some blood.
Something had definitely happened here.
“How many people were working here?”
Stefan shrugged. “Not many when I was here. There might have been a dozen, but they were sending for more from some university.”
“Who was in charge of the site?”
Another shrug. “No idea. I was brought in by the city. Maybe they’ll know.”
Jelen nodded. “Call your supervisor. We’re going to need to know who’s in charge here.”
“Yes, sir.” Stefan stepped away to make the call as Jelen returned his attention to the collapsed entrance.
“I really hope nobody was inside when this happened.”
“Well, somebody was.” Krakowski pointed at two sets of drag marks, likely made by shoe heels. “Looks like two bodies were dragged inside before this was blown.”
Jelen cursed. “I think you’re right.” His eyes narrowed as he spotted something sitting among the debris Stefan claimed credit for. “What’s that?” He quickly strode toward what appeared to be an electronic device, suitcase-sized, hiding behind a chunk of cinderblock and rebar. “What do you think this is?”
Krakowski shrugged, taking a knee beside it and pointing to several antennae. “Some sort of cellphone relay for inside?”
Jelen pursed his lips. “Could be.” He looked over at the mine entrance. “But wouldn’t you put it over there, in plain sight, not hidden away over here?”
Krakowski’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, this doesn’t make sense.”
“Wait a minute.” Jelen pulled out his cellphone. He frowned, holding it up for his partner to see. “No signal. You?”
Krakowski retrieved his cellphone and shook his head. “None.”
Stefan walked over, holding up his phone. “I can’t get a signal. I’ve been all around here.”
Jelen looked at him. “Were you able to yesterday?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Jelen pointed at the device, a gentle hum suggesting it had a power source of some type. “I think it’s this thing.” He pointed at a red switch, Russian lettering indicating it was for power. “I wonder what would happen if we turned it off.”
His partner reached forward and flipped the switch before he could stop him. The hum died.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Krakowski shrugged then held up his phone. “I’ve got a signal.”
27
Milton Residence
St. Paul, Maryland
Dean of St. Paul’s University, Gregory Milton, moaned as his wife, Sandra, dug her thumbs into the small of his back, his muscles a little tight today, though nothing like the old days, his wheelchair now relegated to the closet, his bedroom once again on the second floor. He was a new man, or at least a renewed one, fully recovered from being shot in the back a few years ago, though his stamina still hadn’t returned.
And his doctors were warning him it might never.
Though they were the same ones who had said he’d never walk again.
“Do you want to flip over and let me do your front?”
Milton grinned and flipped over, purposefully yanking the towel aside, someone wagging a hello.
“Huh, I think you were expecting something this entire time.”
“Can you blame a guy? His hot wife is rubbing him down with massage oils, what�
��s a man gonna do?”
“Ahh, remember that his daughter is coming home from school at any minute?”
Milton frowned. “Shit, I forgot.” He grinned at her. “Quickie?”
She chuckled. “How about we just make this all about you?”
“Steak sauce!”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” He tapped his watch. “Time’s a-wastin’, hon!”
She laughed and oiled up her hands some more when the phone rang.
“Leave it.”
“But I’m expecting a call from Judy.”
“Judy can wait. I can’t. You’ve got me so worked up, I could suffer permanent injury.”
“Yeah, I heard that one in high school.”
“You did this in high school?” He grinned. “I wish I had known you back then.”
Sandra wiped her hands quickly on a towel then looked at the phone. “Odd. I think it’s Tommy Granger.”
Milton’s eyes narrowed, Tommy and Mai in Germany while his best friends, Jim and Laura, were in Poland. “Better get it.”
She answered the phone as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the massage table purchased for his rehabilitation, his wife even getting training on how to deliver the massages so essential to his recovery. “Hi, Tommy? Yes, just a second, he’s right here.” She gave him the phone and was about to turn away when he grabbed her hand and put it someplace safe. He grinned at her.
“Tommy? This is Dean Milton.”
“Hi, sir, I’m sorry to call, but, well, I’m here with Mai, and we’re concerned something might have happened to Professor Acton. And Professor Palmer.”
Milton tensed and Sandra recognized the change, stopping what she was doing. “What makes you think that?”
“We haven’t been able to reach them for over an hour, and it looks like there’s a dead zone around the site.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think there’s some sort of cellphone jammer in operation. There are no signals at all from the area surrounding the mine.”
The Nazi's Engineer Page 9