by Trevor Scott
Thanks guys, Walt thought. Now he’d have to open this bag and watch the brains of some poor slug ooze out. But what in the hell was that thing around his waist?
“I guess we can rule out suicide,” Walt said, as he tugged on a rope that bound the body hand to feet, as swine often were just before being butchered.
The men just looked at Walt not knowing if he was serious. Then Walt let out a slight chortle. “It’s fine to make light of a situation, sometimes. Without a bit of humor we’d all go insane, and end up committing horrid crimes like this.”
The two officers finally allowed a smile.
Walt looked up at the medical technicians and the other two Polizei who had remained at the roadside with his driver. The Polizei were in their late forties and didn’t appear overly concerned with the body. The two Polizei with him at the body were in their mid-twenties and apparently eager to learn, or at least find out the truth.
“What’s with those two?” Walt asked, nodding his head toward the older Polizei.
Officer Jung looked over to his partner and then back to Walter. “I hear they’ve been partners for the last twenty years. They do everything together. In fact, they live together. Some say they’d get married if the law allowed.”
Walt looked up to the road again, then back at the young officers, and shook his head. “Oh well. More women for me,” he said with a smile.
The young officers let themselves laugh.
“Did you check for identification?” Walt asked, getting back to the body.
Without further prompting, Officer Jung reached down to the body with gloved hands and carefully began to search for any sign of identification. The victim had twelve Euros in change in his left front pocket, and a set of keys in his right front pocket.
“So, he was right handed,” Walt said.
Officer Jung gently placed the keys into a plastic bag held open by his partner who then relayed them to Inspector Kaiser.
Walt looked over the keys. One key had a Chevrolet symbol. When Walt saw that, he knew this case would be more complex than at first glance.
“Shit,” Walt said.
“What’s wrong, sir?” Officer Jung asked.
“He’s American.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, not many Germans drive Chevrolets,” Walt said.
Walt pulled a small Swiss Army Knife from his pocket, bent over next to the body, and cut the elastic tie that held the bag cinched around the man’s neck. Walt pulled his hand back as if expecting something to jump out at him. Nothing happened. With a small stick, he opened the mouth of the plastic bag and slid it off the victim’s head.
“Camera, please,” Walt said to the officers.
Officer Jung quickly ran to his green and white Opel and returned with a digital camera.
To Walt’s surprise, there was very little blood visible. The man’s face was pale and colorless. His eyes were closed, but the lines around the outsides of them indicated his age must have been in the forties. Why the bag? Walt turned the man’s head sideways and noticed dried blood inside his ear and streaks of blood coming from somewhere on the back of his head.
Officer Jung clicked off a few close up shots of the man’s face.
“Let’s roll him over carefully,” Walt said.
The two young Polizei did as he said, rolling the man on his side and exposing the back of his head. From that view it was pretty obvious why the bag must have been used. The man’s skull was split wide open. The rest of the blood must have seeped out through the bottom of the bag, Walt thought.
“What do you think?” Walt asked, looking at Officer Jung.
The young officer looked shocked to be asked his opinion by an inspector from the regional office in Koblenz. He hesitated for a moment to be sure that he said what he meant without sounding obtrusive. “I think someone crushed his head with a metal pipe or something, and then put the bag over to keep the blood from getting all over the place.”
“Good. But wouldn’t the blow have knocked some blood out almost instantaneously?” Walt asked. “Maybe whoever hit this guy wasn’t supposed to hit him so hard. And the bag was originally intended to make sure the guy couldn’t breathe if he happened to wake up from the blow after hitting the water. Of course, the killer or killers had this planned out in advance. So we’re talking a professional hit here.”
While Walt was talking to the officers, he pulled one of the Velcro strips that held a sand weight to the victim’s chest, and flopped the sides of the pouch to the ground at the man’s sides.
“Now we know how the man died,” Walt revealed. “What we don’t know is where and when he died, who killed him, and why.”
Walt remembered from his training that sometimes the most obvious details were those overlooked. The search for the complex was not always appropriate. But what about the weights? Not enough to make the man sink to the bottom, but enough to keep him below the surface. Maybe the killers wanted to make sure the guy got far enough away from the murder site, yet wanted him to be found eventually.
“I found something,” said Jung’s partner. He slid his hand from the inside pocket of the Rhine-soaked man, and retrieved a brown leather wallet. With rubber gloves, he quickly handed it to Inspector Kaiser.
Walt carefully opened the wallet. All the contents were streaked and stained from the brown leather die. A hundred and fifty Euros in bills, a muddled photograph of a woman and two young children in 1970s clothes, and a Visa and MasterCard. Finally, a name for this guy, Walt thought. And then, a retired U.S. military ID card.
“Charles M. Johnson,” Walt said. “U.S. Air Force retired. How did you get yourself into this predicament, Mr. Johnson?”
Walt continued to search the contents of the wallet. From one of the side pouches, he pulled out a business card with Charlie Johnson’s name on it. In bold green Roman letters it read: Teredata International Semiconductors.
Immediately Walt took a double take of the card. He remembered his conversation with Jake Adams less than a week ago. Jake was working for the president of TIS trying to find out who was buying up some of their computer technology. How Gunter Schecht and his men tried to blow him away. The man Jake was looking for.
Walt instructed the men to continue with the photographs, and to ship Johnson back to Koblenz for an autopsy. “Bag everything,” he said.
He went back up to his car and sat in the front passenger’s seat wondering what his friend Jake was up to. But Walt had no idea where his old friend was staying. Finding Jake would have to be his first chore in solving this murder.
21
BONN, GERMANY
Jake got back to his house on the right bank of the Rhine after first eating breakfast at the old Bad Honnef castle. His head was still not clear after the night of beer and conversation with Herb. The sun had finally made a long awaited appearance. Jake checked over the house. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
All of his communications equipment lay meticulously on a wooden desk in his bedroom as if it had been accumulating there for years. Time to call Milt, Jake thought.
Since it was the middle of the night in Portland, Jake realized he should call Milt at home.
The tired voice of a woman answered, “Hello.”
“Sorry to disturb you, but may I speak with your husband?” Jake asked.
He could hear Milton Swenson asking his wife who it was on the phone. “I don’t know,” was the terse reply.
Milt picked up the phone after apparently moving into another room and having his wife set her phone back down.
“Hello,” Milt said groggily.
“It’s Jake. Sorry to bother you so late.”
“Shit,” Milt said. “Jake, where in the hell have you been?”
“Hey, Milt, I’m sorry I haven’t kept you informed, but things have been really crazy around here.”
“That’s what I hear,” Milt said. “I got a call from the Polizei in Koblenz just two hours ago. They found Charlie Jo
hnson’s body.”
That’s pretty surprising, Jake thought. The way Herb had talked, it should have taken much longer for the body to be found. “Where’d they find it?” Jake asked.
“About ten miles north of Koblenz. Jake? Do you know a guy named Walter Kaiser?” Milt asked.
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“He’s the guy who called me from Koblenz. I guess he’s the investigator in charge of Charlie’s murder.”
Jake thought for a moment.
“He asked about you, Jake. Of course I didn’t tell him shit, because I didn’t know if he was who he said he was.”
“He’s a good friend of mine, Milt. I better give him a call.”
“Wait,” Milt said. “There’s more.”
After a pause. “Go ahead.”
“We have another problem with a technology leak,” Milt said.
“Great. How serious is it?”
“Serious enough that the government already knows about it.”
“Where’s the leak?” Jake asked.
“In Italy...aboard the aircraft carrier Roosevelt,” he said. “We have a contract for an avionics upgrade to the A-7 aircraft going on right now. The A-7 is just a test bed for the Navy version of the Joint Strike Fighter. If the new avionics system can work in that old bird, we should be able to fit it into new aircraft and sell it to the Air Force as well.”
“So, how significant is this new technology?”
Milt hesitated for a moment. “Jake, some of the computer chips we use are the fastest in the world. We can’t afford to allow this information to get out to anyone. In fact, our contract in Germany called for these chips to replace a slower version in a couple of months. That’s why it was so urgent for you to solve that case as soon as possible. The Air Force is using the F-15 just like the Navy is using the A-7.”
“Another surprise, Milt,” Jake said callously.
“I’m sorry, Jake.”
“Why did the Navy allow the aircraft to leave the states?”
“We had to test the system against NATO and French aircraft. We could only simulate so much.”
“Okay, okay...so what do you want me to do about it? You said the government is already involved with the investigation.”
“They haven’t been keeping me informed. I don’t know who’s investigating what. All they said was that some of the chips and manuals were missing.”
“What do you expect, Milt? There could be three or four agencies looking into it, and not one of them speaking to the other. Why in the hell do you think I left the Agency? Nobody communicated for shit.”
“Could you look into it for a few days?”
Jake thought about it. Toni. She had to know about the Italian problem. Anything that happened in Italy, she knew about it.
“Milt? I’m very flexible. You’ve already paid me a substantial amount. I go where you want.”
“Thanks, Jake,” Milt said softly. “I knew I hired the right guy. So, what have you found out?”
“Well, I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that Bundenbach Electronics hired Gunter Schecht to recruit Johnson into taking your stuff. Bundenbach dropped most of its research and development staff recently, so they’re looking for a cheaper way to get ahead. Maybe they’ve become a company of thieves. The question is why? They were slowly coming out with some decent developments of their own. Maybe the gains weren’t coming fast enough. That’s the only thing I need to know now, and I’m working on that. One more thing. Johnson may have gotten himself killed because he was selling out Gunter and Bundenbach.”
“What do you mean?”
“Johnson may have been selling to another government and Gunter didn’t like it.”
“How do you know?”
“Recently, a couple of agents from Hungarian Intelligence have been hanging around Gunter. I’ll let you know as soon as possible if this is true, because then we’ll have to do some damage control and inform the U.S. government. That would pretty much blow my investigation all to hell.”
“We haven’t informed the government about our Germany leak, so you should be okay for a while.”
“Hey, I better let you get back to sleep, Milt. Next time I’ll try to catch you at a better time.”
“No problem. Keep up the good work, and let me know how things go in Italy. I’m not sure where the Roosevelt is now, but it’s big...so I’m sure you’ll find it,” Milt added with a slight chuckle.
“Thanks,” Jake said, and then he hung up.
Shit. What happened to getting in, finding the culprit taking the TIS technology, and heading back to Oregon. Maybe take a break skiing in the Cascades, or even go to Switzerland for a few days on his way back. Now he was back to jumping around to different countries, and swapping cars as though he were changing underwear. Now he had no choice. He’d have to call Toni. Maybe he should have activated his cell phone in Europe.
22
BALATON LAKE, HUNGARY
Waves from the dark water lapped ashore at a constant melodic pace echoing through the stately pines of the north shore. Ice built up into a pile at the edge of the lake forming a constantly changing sculpture. A heavy, wet snow blanketed the ground.
Isaac Lebovitz paused for a moment on the wooden porch of the cabin and turned to view the glinting light that remained in the sky above the lake. I’ll have a place like this on Lake Geneva, he thought. Soon.
He entered through the heavy oak door; clamoring voices stopped, and a table of men turned to look at Isaac. Satisfied that the security lookouts had not fallen asleep or were not drunk yet, the men continued with their conversation.
Isaac retrieved a shot glass from the mantle above a stone fireplace. The fire was burning hot providing most of the light for the main room of the large log cabin. He blew out the dust and wiped out the rest with his middle finger.
“A little dirt won’t hurt,” said a stout man with gray hair and a long gray beard. He gestured for Isaac to join the group at the table. “Come. The schnapps will warm you as much as the fire.”
Isaac sat down on the hard wood chair and slammed his glass onto the great table. The gray-haired man filled it to the top with schnapps.
With one smooth lift and twist of the wrist, Isaac devoured the contents. A hot flash streaked through his body to the farthest extremity. He slowly set the glass down in front of him.
“Have I missed anything?” Isaac asked, silencing the room. He didn’t really expect an answer. “As you all know, I enjoy myself as much as the next. But we must discuss what progress has been made.”
Isaac glanced around the table for a response from anyone. “Anatol, why don’t we start with you,” he said to the man with the gray beard.
The man finished lighting his pipe, allowing plumes of smoke to rise and join a cloud that had already formed. “Thank you, Isaac, I will,” Anatol said. “My people are ready to move forward as planned. We’ll be ready to go into full production in less than six months.”
“Six months,” Isaac said with disbelief. “Your engineers can convert the Prague plant that quickly?”
“Yes.”
“Your people are impatient, Anatol. It won’t be long...it won’t be long,” Isaac said patting him on the shoulder.
He looked at the men once again. Come on...this was their chance to gain back the dignity and respectability that had been denied their families for decades. When the communists took over, they grabbed all of their land, all of their businesses, and integrated them into the collective government ownership. Now they were taking back what had traditionally been family-run businesses. Some had won the companies back through the courts, and others had used capitalistic measures through hostile take-overs. Regardless of how they got back their businesses, they had all done so through the help of this group that had been formed through marriages and social kinship, much like the aristocracy of the royals.
“Who’s next?” Isaac asked. “Rudolf?”
The youngest of the six men sat back i
n his chair and took a slow sip of schnapps. He had only been a child when the great war changed his family so dramatically, taking away their businesses first by the Nazis and then by the Soviets.
“I’ve just come from Berlin,” Rudolf said, pausing and finding attentive ears. “The city is still not exactly equal. We have a united Germany, but the people are sick of the jaded promises that the communists spouted for so many years. Now the German government is trying to build up East Berlin to the standards of the western side, but they are running into budget problems and political reality. The young people want fast cars, stereos, computers...you name it. They’ve seen what the West has to offer, and they can wait no more. I agree with Anatol, we should be ready to produce in six months as well.”
Isaac poured himself another schnapps and stared at it in front of him. He tapped the side of his forehead with his finger, and then grabbed the small glass with one smooth stroke and let the schnapps slowly slide down his throat until the glass was empty. The men are so eager, he thought. Energy was vital to success. But it would take more than energy for the plan to work.
The men talked into the night. One by one each revealed the agenda he had for their countries. The old world ties that bound each of the men were as strong as ever. Then, one by one they bowed out and found a place to sleep. In the end, Isaac remained with Anatol. The fire slowly faded until the flames were replaced by glowing red logs. Hope had been born, and the child would be stronger, healthier, and free.
23
BONN, GERMANY
Gunter Schecht crossed his legs with difficulty, and stared at his boss for a moment trying to read his thoughts. He found himself in the red leather hot seat again. What in the hell does he want from me? Gunter asked himself.
Finally, the president of Bundenbach Electronics shifted his large leather chair and returned Gunter’s stare. “The Polizei found Charlie Johnson belly up in the Rhine this morning,” the boss said.
Gunter shifted in his chair trying to come up with the right answer. “But...”