by Geoff Wolak
* * *
The house stood isolated, a quarter of a mile across a wooded valley from the nearest neighbour, many trees helping to both hide and shade it. A dog stood tethered to the porch, barking at the strangers.
‘We have everything useful out of the house?’
Another man nodded as two cars pulled away.
A call was made. ‘Operations. Everything useful has been removed.’
As his car bumped along a track of dried mud the K2 operative lifted an electronic detonator. He glanced at the driver then pressed the button.
The nearest neighbours rushed out, their hillside houses well above that of Rudenson’s. The sound of the explosion echoed around the valley, shaking their houses, breaking windows and travelling a great distance. A huge plume of smoke rose from the trees, swirling in the air currents of the valley floor. Rudenson’s dog no longer barked.
2
It was a fifteen-minute drive to where the Serbian ‘spy’ was being held. A uniformed local police officer manned the entrance to a farm and waved them through; three Range Rovers, eight agents heavily armed. The convoy halted outside a small barn, the agents from the first and third vehicles jumping down and spreading out in all directions. Another guard opened the barn door and stuck his face out, checking everyone as diligently as he could in the fading light.
Beesely slowly stepped down, helped by Johno, and entered the outbuilding. It took a while to adjust to the darkness. ‘A little more light please,’ he ordered.
The Serb sat naked, strapped to a chair in the middle of the room, the rest of the furniture consisting only of a table with a TV screen and a few chairs. As the illumination increased, via some gas-lamps, Beesely took a flimsy-looking chair and placed it down in front of the prisoner.
A punch from Johno, straight to the man’s ear, knocked the man, and the strapped-on chair, into the dirt. Despite being gagged the prisoner managed a loud groan. Beesely sat down, facing the prisoner.
‘Sorry about that,’ Johno offered, unconvincingly.
‘Oh, my dear boy, these things happen.’ The prisoner got lifted upright. Now Beesely could see blood around the man’s mouth and nose, a prominent swelling underneath one eye. ‘But I have always believed that things in life should always be kept in balance.’ He pointed to the other ear.
Johno quickly knocked the man the opposite way, again to the floor.
‘I do hope this does not impair his hearing,’ Beesely dryly commented.
After being righted again the prisoner sat struggling, trying hard to say something through his gag.
Beesely turned and tapped the TV. ‘Have they been showing you what we do to people we don’t like? Well, not to worry, you’ll be dead before dawn anyway and - to tell you the truth - pain is only a problem if you live to remember it.’
He pointed. ‘You see Johno here? He carries around a lot of pain. Been carrying it for a long time. And me, well, I’ve been carrying my pain around for forty years. You see, young man, I had a daughter. Problem was I let my work come first and ... well, I did not raise the child. She was raised by her mother, poor soul, and a long list of unsuitable surrogate fathers. One of them, well, he raped her many times –’
Johno straightened and focused on Beesely, never having known that fact. In a dark corner two agents glanced at each other.
‘- when she was just twelve years old. When she complained ... he beat her and her poor mother. It was almost a year before I found out, but then of course I did something about it. I killed the man of course, I beat him until his ribs were like rubber. He had problems breathing after the first few ribs.’ He inspected his hand. ‘You know, I did not realise until later that I had broken my hand in three places. Still, when you are angry you don’t feel the pain.’
A signal to Johno resulted in the man being knocked down and righted again.
‘And pain is what it’s all about. I carried that pain for forty years because I was not there for her. And today she was murdered. My daughter was murdered, and not in a very pleasant way. She was subjected to a large dose of Serbian nerve agent.’
The man’s eyes widened as he tried hard to say something through the gag, shaking his head.
‘Yes, she was killed in that explosion today, the one that you were sent to watch out for.’ He took a long, deep breath. ‘You see, right now, young man, I do not really care if I live or die, let alone what happens to you. And Johno here, he was close to my daughter. I dare say he’s a little upset right now.’ A nod from Beesely and the man was soon knocked over and quickly righted. ‘Take off his gag.’
As Johno stood to one side the gag was cut still in place, slicing the skin on the man’s neck, the prisoner now panting furiously and straining to get air. Beesely crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knee.
‘I did nothing!’ the man protested, gasping for air.
‘That’s almost correct. You did very little, simply watched us and waited for the bomb to go off.’
The prisoner was about to say something when Johno ripped his ear clean off, his screams filling the room.
‘Johno, do you mind, I was having a nice little chit-chat.’
‘Sorry, Boss.’ Johno tossed the ear to the feet of the guards.
‘So rude. Anyway, let’s talk about … you. You see, if you can provide me with some useful information about who you work with, then maybe we will spare your suffering. And more importantly, we will make the people who sent you here suffer.’ Beesely idly brushed dust off his trousers. ‘Now, who is Mark Rudenson?’
‘He ... he paid me to come here,’ the prisoner panted.
‘To do what?’ Beesely asked.
‘To ... to watch the top of the castle and say ... say when there was an explosion. It was ... was to be on the 31st, but he ... he wanted me hidden before ... and after.’
‘And then what were you going to do? Simply go back and confirm that there had been an explosion?’
‘Yes ... yes.’
‘And what does this … Rudenson do for a living?’ Beesely asked.
‘Living?’
‘Work, what work does he do?’ Beesely clarified.
‘He is ... as you say ... fundraiser. Politics.’
Beesely checked his nails. ‘And where would we find him?’
‘Munchen.’
‘And what type of groups does he raise money for? In Munchen.’
‘For ... for nationalists.’
Beesely focused on the prisoner. ‘You mean neo-Nazis? German neo-Nazi groups?’
‘Yes ... and ... and for others.’
‘Other groups? Which groups?’
‘In Austria, Czech Republic. Many places.’
‘Well, here is the sixty-four million dollar question. Why does he want the people in the castle dead?’
‘There was a man ... a rich man ... old man ... he was to give a lot of money ... to us ... but he died. His son ... his son has the money ... and would not talk to Rudenson.’
‘Ah, I see. Gunter had promised your group money.’ With a loud sigh Beesely stood up. ‘Now I understand.’ He stepped into the cool night air. Approaching the vehicles he forced several deep breaths, rubbing his face. Johno joined him, inspecting the blood on his knuckles. Beesely gazed up at the first few stars to appear. ‘He’s just a pawn, a part-time amateur who does not deserve the chair.’ He lowered his gaze and turned to Johno. ‘Just kill him.’
Johno stepped back inside, drawing his weapon, the guards jumping out of the way. As Beesely took in the cool night air a single shot rang out, muffled within the barn. Returning to Beesely’s side Johno said, ‘I want Rude-son-features.’
‘You shall have him, my boy. All in good time.’
On the way back Beesely dialled Otto, who sounded as if he had been asleep. ‘Did I disturb you?’
‘No, I am OK,’ Otto whispered.
‘Tell me, what’s significant about the 31st, if you were planting a bomb long before I arrived here? What normally happens
on the 31st?’
‘The 31st? Nothing.’
‘Perhaps the last day of each month then?’
‘Ah, when Gunter was alive he always had staff reviews and sometimes punishment on the last day of the month. He used the restaurant.’
‘Would most people know this?’
‘Yes, he did this for many years.’
‘And when he died, you continued to do this?’
‘Yes, for two months, then I stopped,’ Otto explained.
‘But the people planting the bomb did not know that you stopped, stopped meeting on the last day at one o’clock.’
Otto paused. ‘It is correct, yes.’
‘So now we know.’ Beesely pondered on what might be going through Otto’s mind. ‘Our visitor confessed ... about Rudenson, he was behind the bomb. Seems he was angry at you for not giving him money for his groups.’
Otto took a long time replying. ‘I am sorry,’ he offered.
‘Sorry? No one is blaming you, Otto. Everything you have done since Gunter’s death has been well meant, especially breaking the banks ties with these right-wing groups. No, my lad, you could not have seen this coming. We’ll talk later, get some rest.’
‘And the Serb man?’
‘Johno released some anger.’
‘I see.’
Beesely lowered the phone, staring down at it.
‘Problem?’ Johno asked as they approached the main road through Zug, the lake in view.
Beesely glanced out of the car window. ‘I had a feeling that the attack was someone else. Strange relief.’
‘We expecting trouble?’
‘Just remembered something ... something I should have remembered before. Stay armed. Even in the shower.’
Johno studied the side of Beesely’s head. ‘How will I know who to worry about?’
Beesely faced him. ‘They’ll be the ones shooting at us.’
Johno nodded, raising his eyebrows. ‘Handy.’
In an empty barrack-room canteen they sat drinking tea. Beesely studied Johno for a moment.
‘What?’ Johno finally asked.
‘When I got this inheritance, I actually thought for a brief foolish moment that maybe we would be on easy street, that maybe you and Jane would be taken care of after my death.’ He forced a stifled laugh. ‘But, Jane’s death has done some good after all.’
Johno offered Beesely a puzzled look. ‘It has?’
Beesely made strong eye contact, a cold stare. ‘Yes, it’s woken me up inside.’
Johno’s expression suggested further clarification was needed.
‘I don’t have many more years left, even fewer with my faculties intact, so I’m going to cause some trouble. I’m going to make use of this place and the money. You see, Jane’s death reminded me … reminded me that there are people out there, groups out there that we should be attacking – not least for the greater good of the planet. I’m not worried about my own safety, or incarceration, nor am I too worried about your life. If you have no interest in living, why should I argue with you?’
‘Fair enough,’ Johno said with a smirk.
‘So we’re going to war, probably get ourselves killed.’
‘And ... Otto?’
‘He’s the problem, and my concern. He has a life, a valuable life and good prospects. I can’t send him off with some money, we need him to run this place. So, we are going to have to fight a good fight, without getting killed or caught.’
Johno tipped his head. ‘Is that all?’ he sarcastically asked.
Beesely sighed. ‘I’m going to have to be clever, at seventy-nine years old. And you ... you used to be one of the best, so start remembering what it’s all about. Put your boots back on, Sergeant Williams. But, there is one thing that may spoil my plans, something that has been nagging at me since we got here.’
‘What’s that?’
‘All the security around here … that Gunter set-up. Underground bunker, old castle in the country, fifty well-armed guards. He had more protection than the Queen. So, who did he fear attacking him?’
‘He fucked off plenty of people, like the mafia.’
‘The mafia are not capable of launching an attack on this scale. You’d need a hundred commandos to get in here, and you’d lose most of them.’ He sighed ‘No, you’d only need this much security if you had upset a foreign government, someone capable of charging in here. But that doesn’t make a lot of sense either. What foreign power would risk an incursion on Swiss soil – heart of bleeding Europe?’
‘Gunter … ain’t here now, so not a problem,’ Johno firmly pointed out.
Beesely took a breath. ‘Yes, you’re probably right.’