E.B.E. 21- the Hunt

by Peer Lehregger

  At 1:30, two things happened at once.

  At 13:30, Hannes didn't pay attention for a second, neither did his colleague on the forklift, and so Hannes was rammed by the forklift of his colleague, but luckily with the back of the forklift. Hannes fell to the ground like a flour sack and tore his left forearm open up to the bone on a wooden box that was standing there. He bled like a pig.

  At 13:30 Sabine went down the stairs to the brewery cellar and discovered the old man after a short search. The cellar was empty, and the old man was sitting in a corner at a big table. He waved her to him and asked her to sit down. She put her peaked cap next to her on the chair, then took off her uniform jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. The old man smiled when he said: "Don't worry, I asked that we stay among ourselves. So, it's no problem you don't have your jacket. I'd suggest we each have a delicious Kölsch, but only one. Then, Mrs. von Hansenwerder, only mineral water. I'll pay for the food." He tilted his head and looked at her with a trusting look. She had to laugh and agreed. That's how they drank their beer. When she had placed her order for food and the Köbes had left the cellar, the old man began to talk:

  "If you don't mind, I'll call you Sabine. But that applies only to here and only to today. Are you okay with that?"

  Sabine hesitated but then nodded.

  "Good. You must know I wasn't feeling very well when I was sent out of my office. I know you saw it, too."

  Sabine nodded.

  "It is the case that in this country there are identity cards and badges that provide a power that I cannot accept. I had to obey one of those powers. All but the highest government circles must obey. It's safe to assume that only one or two people are going to..." He hesitated, searching for words, "to control these other people. I don't believe that anymore. Fortunately, you were able to come out of the circles again. How?"

  Sabine looked at the table. "I just e-mailed my supervisor yesterday that I was out. I was offered a few days off, but I didn't want it."

  "And?"

  "And then later, my resignation..." Sabine painted two quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "accepted."

  The old man nodded. "What happened, anyway?"

  "I can't tell you that for the life of me. I have been instructed that I am still bound by the duty of secrecy."

  The old man nodded again, then looked at the stone ceiling with his eyes peeled. "Well, that's what I thought. Then let me tell you something. I am not bound by secrecy, but the information is still explosive. If you had the information and not me, then you shouldn't tell me that either."

  Sabine pricked up her ears.

  "I made a little phone call. You know, with increasing age and in the fortunate position of knowing many people, the number of those who owe me a favor has increased. I asked around a little and had to hear that the older gray-haired gentleman in the blue uniform is no ordinary general. Neither the air force, nor any army. He's an intelligence officer in a global network. The actual clients are unknown. He has various identity cards signed by the respective heads of government. The middle-aged man, who always likes to play with his phone, has the same rank and has also been described by my contacts as a secret service agent in the rank of a general. However, he has also been described as a communications officer and communications consultant. These men, Sabine, according to my contacts, are licensed to kill."

  Sabine looked at him in disbelief. "Does it even exist?" She swallowed dry. "Then why did they let me go?"

  The old man shrugged his shoulders. "I can't tell you."

  He was about to begin to speak when footsteps were heard. The old man frowned, his eyes narrowed to slits, Sabine saw this, reaching reflexively for the grip of her weapon. The old man reassured her with a gesture of his hand.

  It was the waiter who came down the stairs almost silently and brought them the food. While the old man looked with pleasure at his sauerbraten, Sabine had ordered herself heaven and earth, blood sausage with mashed potatoes, not fully mashed potatoes, as she noted with pleasure. During the meal, there was silence, almost classical gluttonous silence.

  With a full stomach, as Sabine noticed after eating, strange days like yesterday were bearable much better. The old man had also eaten the plate empty and wiped his mouth with the napkin. "For me another Kölsch and for my colleague ... also another one", he ordered with a wink to Sabine.

  When they had their beer and were alone again, the old man continued. "The accident in which the man, your Target One, was involved was probably actually an accident. We have found no traces on his car indicating that the two vehicles were in contact. We've discovered that the car has a flaw in the electrical system. Every now and then a loose contact and a defective relay cause the complete lighting to fail, only for a few seconds, but when it comes on again, the high beam also comes on."

  "That makes sense," said Sabine, who imagined the accident, "so our man drives along the road, his lights go out, a vehicle comes towards him, the high beam comes on suddenly, and when the driver ...", she said. "The driver!" the old man interrupted.

  Sabine continued, pensive, "so the driver is blinded by the sudden light, she is frightened and drives through the guardrail."

  The old man nodded affirmatively. "Not bad. But what frightened the driver if she was so good?" Sabine had to grin. The old man must have overheard them.

  "Maybe she was tired. Maybe the cargo was scary to her, I mean, if she even knew what she was carrying."

  The old man looked at her sharply. Sabine continued to concentrate.

  "It wasn't the first transport, I was told. She knew exactly what she was carrying! And she had two passengers on board."

  "And the cargo. The package. Target Two. You know, Sabine, the thing is, like you said, there were two more passengers on board. Do you know what happened to them?"

  Sabine shook her head.

  "One of the two passengers died, probably quickly and painlessly. The driver bled to death at the scene of the accident. But just to reassure you, I don't think anybody could have helped her. The other passenger survived and is now in a secret location."

  Sabine looked at her boss, he seemed more and more nervous the further he told.

  "But that's just the secondary battlefield. It's about the cargo."

  Sabine bent forward, pricked her ears.

  "My contact said it was a very disturbing, strange..." He was looking for words, "... eerie cargo."

  Sabine nodded slowly. "I can confirm that." The old man looked at her with a sharp eye.

  "I know. I had you followed, too." He suddenly grinned like a schoolboy. "And no one noticed!"

  Sabine had to laugh against her will.

  "The cargo," he continued, "consisted of a female being."

  Sabine nodded.

  "No woman."

  Sabine froze.

  "It's female. There's no doubt about it. You saw it, didn't you?"

  She forced herself to nod confirming.

  The old man looked past her into the void.

  "We have a real problem with this. We all do. According to my contacts, this female is not from this planet."

  With Sabine, all the fuses went off and she immediately lost consciousness.

  She didn't wake up until a while later. She lay on the floor, with a slight slap on her face. She saw the old man who had bent over her and slapped her. She saw the frightened face of the waiter who, when he heard rumbling from the cellar, immediately ran down.

  She got up, sat down on the chair and asked her boss to let her order a Schnapps. The liquor was almost immediately in front of her and she drank it. It could have been water as well, because it didn't show any effect.

  The old man sat on the opposite side of the bank again.

  "That's hard to believe, isn't it?"

  Sabine wasn't so sure.

  She tightened up. "What am I supposed to do now?"

  "Nothing," the old man said. "Nothing at all. They continue their service normally, but we will see th
at they are moved to another area as soon as possible. You know, people are already on it, and I think we need to get them out of line of fire now. It's possible your contact with Target Two was just a warning. If there should be any difficulties, you know the person you can contact."

  Sabine nodded.

  "Then go now," he took a look at his watch, "your round, you're off work anyway. And please keep me informed." He handed her a note. A phone number. "Memorize it and destroy the note," he ordered. Sabine put the note in her pocket and put on her jacket, put on her cap. When she tried to salute, the old man waved her off. "Now go and take care of yourself."

  She left the cellar, outside in the fresh air, although it was freezing cold, and again, snow was in the air, despite the dim brightness, she felt quite well. Despite the conversation. She was not sure whether she should go back to the Gingerbread-Street area and patrol there for another round or now stroll comfortably to the station.

  Duty is duty, she decided and hurried to get to Gingerbread-Street. She walked past the café where the woman, this female being (oh, those lips!) had kissed her and went to the kebab shop. Although she had eaten well and was actually full, she went inside and ordered a kebab, complete, spicy. And a Coke. She got both, squatted on the stool on the large windowpane and watched the people on the street while she enjoyed eating the kebab.

  It began to snow, she looked at her watch and made her way to the station. At this time of the day the street filled up with more and more people, Sabine enjoyed the turmoil, everything seemed normal. She was made space as she walked along the sidewalk, from the teenagers sitting in a house entrance, in jackets far too thin, with red faces, hands stuck in their jacket pockets, talking, looking at their smartphone, laughing, no stupid comment was made as she walked past them. A cheeky teenager called out to his buddies who, scratching his ball and was blocking his way, loudly said: "Yo, dude, make space for the ..." He came to a standstill and the other kids laughed. Sabine turned around and asked the witty one, "Well? What's the female form for pig?" She had the joker on her back, but the young people should see, she thought, that policemen and policewomen are only human beings.

  The young man almost swallowed, wanted to form a "K" with his mouth, Sabine waved with her index finger raised in front of his face. "Pig?" asked the young man. Sabine wanted to look strict, but she laughed. The kids laughed too. A moment so wonderfully normal. "Yo, dude," the young man shouted again to his friend, "the policewoman wants to go that way. Make way!" The person addressed stepped aside and cleared the way with an exaggerated gesture. He laughed. It was a warm kind of laughter of the other teenagers, a free and honest laugh. Sabine tapped the peak of her cap with two fingers and grinned at the teenager. Sabine was happy at that moment. She went on, but only barely ten meters, then she stood in front of the entrance of the house where the targets lived. She looked up at the facade, thoughtfully. Strange, she thought, what happened yesterday.

  She wanted to go further, bowed her head, got scared to death. She was facing Target One, Hannes Rachmiel. He stood there looking at her, the key in his hand. Her heart stopped; she couldn't breathe. Her intestines were rumbling. Rachmiel didn't look good. Pale, distorted face, like he's in pain, sweaty hair. The left arm was thickly bandaged, a little blood had seeped through the bandage, it was stuck in a noose, held in front of the body. Hannes had only put the jacket over his shoulders, he really had to freeze. But the eyes of Hannes were drawn together to slits and looked at them concentrated.

  Sabine became black before her eyes again, never known feelings of fear flooded her body. This man was no threat in his present condition. They faced each other (Oh, those lips, that kiss... where is she?) and looked at each other. "So," Hannes began, "so you're a cop. That's interesting. Did you report diligently yesterday?" Sabine found this an outrageous question that actually required a sharp answer, but she shook her head silently.

  "Didn't you tell me what had happened?"

  Hannes stepped one step up to her.

  Sabine was again seized by a wave of emotions. From a surge of feelings, she couldn't control. She puffed. Her nipples got hard. They rubbed themselves against the fabric of their bra. Her abdomen started to glow.

  "Where's your girlfriend?" she asked.

  Hannes looked at her, then pointed his chin at the door. "Upstairs. Do you want to come?"

  Sabine shook her head silently, then she went on, although her body screamed that she had to go with her.

  Hannes shook his head and unlocked the front door.

  Closing time

  While Hannes walked up the stairs to his apartment, he thought that he could now have at least one week off. The cut in the forearm, which he had contracted during the fall, had been clamped by the company butcher. The term ‚Doctor‘ wasn't a term for this person. Hannes was of the opinion that this had to be sewn professionally but was told that this would be enough. So, after he left the company, he went to his family doctor who looked at the wound. He said, yes, as it would be now, it would also work, but wrote him another ointment and Hannes left the office. He picked up the ointment from the pharmacy and decided to ask Ibby to bandage him. He had already done it with her.

  Hannes stood outside the door and unlocked it. He'd already forgotten the police officer. He was in a lot of pain, he let the jacket slide off his shoulder, took off his shoes and left them in the hallway. Now a good dose of a painkiller, he decided, flushed down with a double vodka.

  He opened the kitchen door, turned on the lights and went to the cabinet, rummaged for the medicine, noticed that it was inconvenient to search the cabinet with one hand: The entire collection of vitamin tablet tubes, blisters with tablets and bags of cold medicine from the pharmacy fell onto the counter top. This lured Ibby out of the bedroom, she came in, and Hannes wanted to greet her as usual with a friendly nod. He was astonished to find that Ibby froze, as she looked at his arm and looked at him in horror. In the meantime, he could already recognize some of her emotions in the frugal facial expressions of her face and the barely perceptible eye movements; in this case, he realized that Ibby had been really scared. She grabs his arm and made him sit onto a chair. She told him to wait, put the medicine away, then came to him and asked him to put his arm on the table. "Ibby, it's taken care of," cawed Hannes, "Just gotta get a new bandage." Hannes made the gesture of wrapping, but Ibby held with one hand the injured arm and with the other Hannes gesticulating right hand.

  "I actually needed some pills now," Hannes said, pointing to the shelf where Ibby had just put everything away. Ibby just looked at him and shook her head.

  Instead, she took the bottle of vodka from the fridge and poured a large glass into it, placed it in front of him and sat down again. Wasn't there a little gloating grin on her face?

  She reached for the injured arm and began to loosen the bandage with pointed fingers. She unwound the fabric and then removed the dressing. Hannes saw the clamped wound, he got a little nauseous, but Ibby bent over his arm with interest. Hannes groped for the vodka without looking at the table, Ibby pushed the glass into his hand without looking up. He drank a large sip and felt the alcohol spread a pleasant warmth in his stomach. He looked back at Ibby, who now got up, left the kitchen and looked for something in the bathroom. She came back with a washcloth, waved it in front of Hannes's face and moistened the fabric at the sink. She sat down again and began to wipe off the blood crusts on the wound. That hurt quite a bit and Hannes drank another sip. When she was finished, the wound was clean, he looked into her face. She looked at him without expression, then put her index finger on her mouth and made a sound of herself, which was supposed to mean "Pssst", but sounded like the hissing of a cat. Hannes nodded.

  She seemed to think, then stood up and rummaged in a drawer until she had found a wooden cooking spoon. She also fetched a glass of water, half-full, and placed it on the kitchen table. She held the wooden spoon in front of Hannes's mouth. He looked at her in astonishment. She smiled and pulled an imag
inary hat out of her forehead, but touched her invisible hat like John Wayne, like a Stetson. Come on, cowboy, we gotta get that bullet out of your shoulder now! Drink another sip, put this thing between your teeth and let's get to work. It's gonna hurt, but I'm gonna hurry.

  With his mouth open, Hannes sat on the chair when he had understood the absurdity of the scene, and Ibby quickly pressed the handle of the wooden spoon between his teeth. Hannes bit on the wood, it would hurt, oh yes!

  Ibby sat down, took the glass of water, seemed to concentrate for a moment, moved the jaw muscles. Hannes looked at this with increasing suspicion. Then, after a moment, she spat saliva into the glass. With her index finger, she stirred, then looked at him and repeated the "Shh!" She took the washcloth and dunked one end into the glass, then coated the wound with it.

  It hurts, it hurts really bad, it hurts fucking really bad. Hannes bit on the wood, curved in pain but looked with tears in his eyes at his arm. Where Ibby had touched the wound with the washcloth, the tissue receded, almost dissolved, became spongy and then a mushy mass. It hurt so much that Hannes nose started running and tears streamed down his cheeks. The clamps came loose from the wound and were wiped onto the table by Ibby with a washcloth. The tinkling of the metal parts falling on the table penetrated his brain like the ringing of bells.

  She stopped and was shocked to see Hannes that the wound had opened again, and bright red blood was pouring out. Ibby looked at the wound with interest and pulled it apart so that the bone became visible. Hannes nearly lost conscious, he strangled, opened his mouth, Ibby pushed the glass with the vodka to him without looking up.

  Hannes drank a big sip and was briefly distracted from his arm by the burning in his throat and the explosion in his stomach. He bowed his head, swallowed, coughed. Meanwhile, Ibby had washed out the washcloth on the sink and started dabbing the blood off the wound.

  He tried to regain his composure, looked at his arm and Ibby's face, which was now smiling again. "Shhh" again.