After several cups of coffee, which he drank in peace, he was sure about the following things: She was intelligent. He had overestimated the severity of her injuries. Or: She could regenerate very quickly. She had organized and cleaned the bathroom, she had also organized the kitchen, washed and rinsed the dishes and polished the sink. So, she was familiar with cleanliness, hygiene, and human habits. Perhaps she was a human being, so here from Earth and changed by some experiment, a kind of hybrid. Hannes' pictures of various X-Files movies shot through his head in a shadowy fashion, but he couldn't put it into perspective. She didn't speak. She could go to the toilet when others, in which case he, were in the room. She had been naked; she didn't seem to mind. And another thing was clear: obviously, no police officer had come, no military, no men-in-black, no secret service agents to collect her or them both and take or kill them.
Another coffee, another cigarette. The following things were unclear: the ingestion of food. What was he supposed to give her or buy her? Anyway, they could communicate. What happened next? Would she want to phone home like ET once did, so that she could be picked up? Then what would happen to him as a confidant? Would she take him, or kill him, nor would he get blitzed? Was she a threat to him? Was it a danger to the city, to the country, perhaps to the entire earth?
Hunger announced himself. Hannes went to the refrigerator, looked inside, closed it again. Tonight, we will have kebab with fries and salad, he decided. Mustafa down at the corner made an excellent kebab. In the hallway, he grabbed his jacket and keys, informed her through the closed bedroom door that he would be back in ten minutes and left the house.
The kebab with fries and the salad satisfied his hunger. By now it was already dawning again. Tomorrow was early shift on the schedule, get up at four o'clock, breakfast, then with the cable car a good half hour drive, at 3 pm off. Did he have to take care of the creature in the bedroom now? He didn’t think so. If she hadn't been better, she wouldn't have moved around the apartment.
Hannes decided to buy some vegetables and fruit from Ali, the greengrocer.
There was enough bread and cheese.
He later draped fruits, vegetables, a bottle of sparkling water, half a bottle of apple juice and the bread, wrapped in plastic wrap, on the sideboard next to the sink for her. Let's see what she'd eat or drink. He took a few more beers into the living room, closed the door and turned on the TV. He spent the evening drinking beer, watching TV and waiting until it was late enough to go to sleep. There was no sound to be heard, neither from the bedroom nor from the kitchen. He had also no desire to look, perhaps she went on the run with a few of his clothes ...
But no money, no cell phone?
Later, when he was laying drowsy on the sofa, he thought he had passed the problem of nursing. Fine, but didn't he have to ask if she was all right? But how could he do that because he didn't know if she understood him? And it wouldn't be a good idea just to grab her arm and see if the wounds had healed. Maybe then she'd get angry and just knock her teeth into his hand?
But by only seeing her for a few seconds today, he made the whole problem very abstract, to be honest, he didn't remember the look and shape of her face ...
If she disappeared tomorrow morning, the whole thing would've been some kind of dream. Something that didn’t even happened and only left fragments of memory.
Hannes dug deeper into his pillow. Maybe he had only dreamed all of that, maybe he had an accident on the way, maybe he had the accident.
Hannes darkly remembered the film "Jacobs Ladder", which he had seen as a teenager and which had deeply disturbed him; in this film the protagonist went through some strange and disturbing experiences, only to find out that he had just died and hallucinated these experiences. Maybe the Renault was just now stuck under the tree and he himself, Hannes, was dying and would imagine the whole thing ...
Hannes finally fell asleep, woke up on time the next morning, had breakfast after washing and dressing, noticing that the food on the sink hadn't been touched. (Maybe she was dead?) He locked the front door of the apartment and left the house.
In the afternoon, when he came back, the bottle of mineral water was half empty. A soup plate and an empty glass stood in the sink, some bread was missing, the cheese was missing in the refrigerator. Fruits and vegetables were still untouched on the sideboard. There was a pile of laundry on the sofa in the living room. Otherwise: Silence in the apartment.
Hannes then bought more cheese and a few slices of fresh bread from the bakery in the supermarket. From the remaining bread, he made himself a few sandwiches and spent the afternoon and evening in the living room, eating, watching TV and drinking beer.
The next few days passed. He washed his dirty clothes, showered and shaved before work and after work, he didn't see her anymore. He bought what little was consumed in food. He didn't see her these days, but he heard her once in the evening when he was already lying on the sofa.
There were sounds of rattling dishes from the kitchen and several times of a flushed toilet. Hannes admitted that he was happy not to see her, the factor of eeriness was greater than he thought, and she didn't do anything to him. If you could put it that way, she consumed a few resources, and she obviously avoided him as well.
He had to; he had been asked to work next weekend as well. But then, his boss assured him, he would be off Thursday to Monday.
It was all right with Hannes, that’s how it always been. He would perhaps use his off days to spend them with his friend in the Breisgau.
He would, as decided, buy enough bread and cheese for her. And since they had gone out of each other's way and nothing would change, Hannes thought, she would certainly not miss him. She'd be fine.
He, on the other hand, might find a little distance to his weird problem, Hannes grinned, to his cosmic problem. Maybe he would tell his friend what happened to him, maybe he would have a suggestion how he, Hannes, could find an elegant way out of this problem.
In any case, he had avoided nursing.
First alarm
"Hello? This is Max."
"This is Gustav. Can you identify yourself?"
"Yes, one moment... Who in his life is good on earth,
Will become an angel after death,
Then you ask the look to the sky,
Why they can't be seen."
"Positive."
"Isn't that a little silly?"
"Instruction. What's up?"
"It's from the band ‘Rammstein’, isn't it?"
"Yep. Boss must be a big fan."
"Doesn't matter."
"Right."
"I have to call Bravo 9."
"What? Excuse me? Confirm!"
"I'm calling Bravo 9."
"I'll connect you. Wait!"
"Hello?"
"What is it?"
"I'm calling Bravo 9."
"You're calling Bravo 9?"
"Yes. We have a lead and contact."
"Get more specific."
"The trail leads to Cologne. She's a good ten days old now. The contact here is in pathology."
"Go on!"
"According to the coroner, the contact has been dead for ten days. As far as he could tell. He's at the end of his rope."
"Any details yet?"
"Well, death seems to have been caused by some kind of energy weapon. The chest has a 20 cm hole like caused by a burner. You can see through it. Half the head is also burned away".
"Who is it?"
"Our American contact."
"I need the date of birth and the last four digits on the badge."
"Wait... So, born July 15, 1970, and the last four digits are 3341."
"Fuck. I'll pass it on."
"And my job now?"
"Wait a minute. I must... Uh, are you equipped?"
"Always. You know that."
"I can't reach my uplink. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute."
"How long?"
"Stay on the line."
…
<
br /> "Hello?"
"I'm still here. Listen, the phone call we're making isn't standard."
"Never mind. Who's in pathology?"
"We have half-past three in the morning. The pathologist and his assistant, the emergency doctor and a paramedic are sitting in the waiting room. In the parking lot, the police officer is waiting in the car."
"There's always at least two of them on patrol. Where's the partner?"
"He puked his soul out at the delivery. She dropped him off at the station."
"Fuck. I need the name. Who's the officer?"
"Police Officer Sabine von Hansenwerder."
"Did she see anything?"
"No, she was in the car."
"Go upstairs now, send her home. You will oblige her to remain silent and tell her that she has to report to the station tomorrow at eight o'clock."
"Confirmed. POM from Hansenwerder, agreement of non-disclosure, order to report, send her home."
"The cleaners are on their way. Liquidate all persons involved. When the cleaners arrive get back to the observation posts. Stay reachable. Confirm."
"Is this really necessary?"
"Confirm!"
"Confirmed. General liquidation. On arrival of the cleaners, return to observation post. Stay reachable. Uh, how bad is it?"
"Very bad. Really, really bad. Over."
Briefing
Emma Sabine Walburga Freifrau[2] von Hansenwerder sat at her desk in uniform and cried. She didn't sob, she didn't whimper, no, she cried. Big tears ran down her cheeks, she didn't put her hands in front of her face or tried to hide it in any other way, no, she just sat there crying bitterly.
The colleagues in the room were standing around her, entering, then quietly walking from her desk to their seats, whispering in a restrained manner. A colleague of Sabine then went to her, held her in her arms and tried to comfort her.
But Sabine von Hansenwerder was shocked. So many dead bodies in pathology, but that was incidental, another criminal case. She was heartbroken that her partner, colleague and almost-boyfriend Arne had a fatal accident this morning when he was driving to work.
Some asshole had taken the right of way and had driven into the car at high speed, no chance, drove right into the driver's door, airbag didn't ignite, bad luck.
The driver of the car was on the run. The car was stolen, they knew it was stolen, but nothing else. The accident happened an hour before Sabine left for duty.
A knock at the door, then the secretary of the police president entered. A very resolute woman who did everything but knock when she entered in a duty room.
She announced that Ms. von Hansenwerder would be demanded by the police chief, actually immediately, but due to the accident and the probably personal dismay of her colleague "as soon as possible". Sabine didn't notice, but her colleagues.
After she had calmed down a bit, they told Sabine about the circumstance, who then freshened up a bit in the ladies' toilet, straightened her uniform and made her way to the chief's office.
On the last stairs she pulled herself together, always letting the pro hang out, she thought and tightened herself.
The secretary informed her that Ms. von Hansenwerder was now present and then waved to Sabine that she could enter.
Sabine entered. She knew the office from the old man, she had been in there often in the past; a room wallpapered with white fiberglass wallpaper, some pictures, "Only prints!", she was told at the time, some armchairs near the wall, a large panorama window, plain and professional. Except for the large mahogany desk, which the chief had set up there from his private property. No one cared and no one bothered.
Sabine stood in the door, noticing that two men were sitting on the back wall, bored at first sight. On the sidewall, another man was sitting, looking at his cell phone and probably playing a game; he was holding the cell phone with both hands in front of him. The police chief stood with a tall, wide-shouldered, gray-haired man with short hair in blue military uniform in front of his desk.
When Sabine was standing in the room and the door behind her was closed, the man in the uniform turned to her, smiled and approached her with an outstretched hand.
"Ah, the new colleague is here! Welcome!"
Sabine stretched out her hand reflexively, the man grabbed it and squeezed hard. Sabine did not want to give herself any weakness and also squeezed hard. She could do it because she trained regularly, weight training, Jiu-Jitsu, and Krav-Maga.
Laughing, the man shook her hand, then pointed with an elegant gesture to an empty chair at the window.
"Sit down," he said in a sonorous, dark voice. Sabine took a look at the epaulets, then at the man's chest. "Yes, General!" The man waved back, pointed to the chair. "Come on, we're not in the army here. Call me Mike!" He had dazzlingly white teeth. "It's just us here. Can I call you Sabine? Is that okay?"
He didn't wait for the answer, put one hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her in the desired direction. While Sabine went to her assigned place, Mike turned to the chief of police. "Okay, that's enough. I'll take it from here." The chief nodded. She turned her head and saw that he went to the door with his lips pinched. He opened the door and left his office.
Sabine sat down, crossed her legs and waited until Mike sat down without hesitation on the chair of the chief of police. He turned to Sabine. "I must draw your attention to the fact that everything discussed here is strictly confidential."
He pulled up an eyebrow and waited. Sabine confirmed that she had heard it.
"We chose you because you have amazing abilities," Mike said. Sabine frowned a little and Mike continued. "They are reliable, loyal, courageous, valued and respected by their superiors and colleagues. These are amazing abilities in our eyes."
"That's normal," Sabine replied, "everyone here is brave, loyal, reliable, we always respect each other!" With the last words, her voice had raised, although she did not want that.
Mike laughed out loud. Sabine thought that the laughter sounded like the laughter of a former german chancellor named Schroeder, "Harr-Harr-Harr!"
"Sabine, you're here for another reason, too. If you've already guessed, you're right!"
Sabine von Hansenwerder bent slightly forward. Not out of reflex, she wanted to show interest. Mike grinned and then rummaged through the files that were on the desk.
"I've got an interesting thing here. Look!" He handed a file over the desk, waited for Sabine to get up.
But she didn't get up. "General..."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Mike, with all due respect, who are you and why are you giving me files and assignments? You're military, aren't you?" She pointed to the uniform. "American military, right?"
Mike laughed. "That's complicated but all right. I'm gonna let you in on something, something secret, something weird. But first, take the file. If you read while I'm telling you, or better yet," he grinned, "brief you, it goes faster and isn't that awkward."
Sabine got up and took the file, opened the first page. Saw a personal description of a man, middle-aged, glasses, short hair, three-day beard, defiant facial expression. A common face, including name and address. Physical characteristics and other data. She looked up and Mike didn't smile anymore.
"The nice guy whose data you're looking at is interesting to us. Here's what we know: Two weeks ago, he drove Saturday from a late shift in Elmstein, that is in the Palatinate, quite late in very bad weather conditions towards Lamprecht. This is also located in the Palatinate and a good twenty kilometers from Elmstein."
Sabine interrupted him. "Excuse me, but the Palatinate is a good 300 kilometers from here..." Mike waved his hand.
"Please listen. This man is from Cologne. He worked down there as a temporary worker. Since the weather was very bad at this time and it was also quite late, it is pure luck that we found him at all. A few kilometers before Lamprecht there was a traffic accident. A police officer who was on the scene instructed him to drive another route. The colleague could
not remember the face, but only that he was driving a station wagon, he had more important things to do; but he noticed that the license plate was from Cologne and that the man stank. Not like beer and wine, but like work and sweat. So, we asked around, which company had a late shift on that day, who employed temporary workers, i.e. real cleaning the door handles and finally found our candidate. Clear so far?"
Sabine nodded.
"Our man then drove this route, which he had been instructed to follow, and probably caused an accident there. We do not know exactly how, since a colleague of mine was sitting behind the wheel of the car," he emphasized clearly. She can drive. She could drive, really well, and this was not her first tour. Unfortunately, our man in the crash car took something. It doesn't belong to us, but we had agreed to transport it at the time. Clear so far?"
Sabine nodded.
"It took us three days to identify the man..."
Sabine interrupted, "Excuse me, Mike, but what about your colleague?"
"That's secret, my dear, but so much: she's dead."
"Did she die in the accident? Then we'll get him for hit-and-run and forbear. Or are there signs of death by extraneous agents? Maybe he wanted to cover up the accident, maybe her colleague was still conscious when he ..."
Mike interrupted. "On page 2 and the following, you can see photos of the crashed car. Get your own picture."
Sabine turned the page, looked at the photos showing a black car trapped under a thick tree. The photos showed a crushed front, shattered windows. The white, collapsed airbags were clearly visible. The tailgate of the car was open. Dark stains were visible on the flooring in the trunk.
"My colleague," Mike continued, "was the driver. She was killed, but not by our friend here. Everything else, I'm afraid, is classified."
Sabine sighed. "Then, what do you want from me?"
E.B.E. 21- the Hunt Page 5