E.B.E. 21- the Hunt

by Peer Lehregger

  Max hadn't texted via WhatsApp. He couldn’t either. Max had been dead for three hours, buried in a vineyard with his head shot. Mike had let his connections play; this time the friendly service had done a great job, within five hours Max's identity had been revealed, another two hours it took the agents to track Max down, then a questioning about the details of the delivery to Helge, about the trucks from which valuable items always fell, about the backer. Despite the time pressure, the questioning was carried out with accuracy. Max thanked his creator, when at the end, an agent pulled out his gun and pointed it at his head.

  Hannes walked nervously and tense through Breisach, bought himself a kebab when he walked through the town, but no one reached out to him this evening. He wondered if he should call home, but he rejected the idea. In his room, he took off his shoes and jacket and lay down dressed on the bed. He stared at the ceiling for a while, the silence disturbed him, there was hardly any traffic outside and later he fell into a restless sleep.

  Mike had organized everything; action should take place the following morning. The special troops for the access were briefed, they were equipped, had all signed the confidentiality agreement, and Mike had taken the liberty of a little arbitrariness: At Freiburg airport there was a Learjet, full of gas, waiting for Mike and the cargo. The pilots would wait with the engines running, everyone would be ready, Mike ordered, so Mike could drive from the scene directly to the airfield, put Rachmiel into the plane, he would be on the plane and then off to Africa.

  The expected WhatsApp came at eight in the morning. Hannes was startled when he heard the phone buzzing. He grabbed it, read that the meeting point Moon Hill was okay and that he should be there at 10:00, alone, leaving the car down in the parking lot. The mail also said that it would take him about 45 minutes to get from the parking lot to the top of the lookout point. Hannes found it strange that the message was so detailed, but whatever, he thought, then the whole thing is over quickly.

  He got dressed, checked out, had to explain why he wanted to leave so hastily, but he mumbled something about urgent private reasons, then almost fled the hotel. In Vogtsburg at the grocery store, he got himself a coffee and a biscuit for breakfast, but he threw the biscuit away and drank his coffee, then got himself another one because he still had enough time. A quick glance at the clock, shortly before nine, he parked the car in the hiking parking lot and made his way to the parking lot of the lookout point.

  Hannes assumed that nobody wanted to enjoy the view at nine in the morning, especially as the weather was cloudy and cold conform to the season. He didn't know much about the care of vines, but he could assume with a clear conscience that the winegrowers were more likely to be in the cellar at this time of year than in a vineyard. Halfway through, he realized that he was only telling himself that this was a very simple deal. He wondered why he would walk up there without a car. He wondered if the supplier was already up there and after another five minutes, he had the distinct feeling of walking into a trap. When he reached the parking lot, he looked around, there was no one to be seen. He sat down in the shelter just before 10:00, he was a little early, okay, then wait another moment.

  Mike was sure a civilian couldn't see his camouflaged men. They were just too good in that. Mike followed the scene in the wood above the parking lot. He could see through his binoculars that a soldier stood up, pointed a weapon at Rachmiel's head, a dull "plop" sounded and Rachmiel fell forward like a wet sack.

  The team had discussed what could be used as a weapon, some of his men argued that it was safer to stun the target with a taser, but Mike had ordered a flash ball to be used. Shot at the head from a correspondingly short distance, the bullet would cause immediate unconsciousness without any further complications.

  Success, Mike thought, proved him right. Two men rushed from the vineyard to the hut, tied up the target, picked it up and held it. Rachmiel was still unconscious when Mike stepped up, grabbed his hair with one hand and lifted his head up. Rachmiels eyes were closed and he drooled. Good, good, good. He waved to one of his men who put a black hood over Rachmiel's head.

  So easy, Mike thought, and I came here with four men. I could've done it myself. They didn't have to wait long. Within a few minutes, a converted Hummer H2 appeared. Two men got in the back, Rachmiel was taken in the middle seat. Mike sat in the passenger seat. Since all the men had been briefed, there was no need for another word, everyone knew what to do. The remaining men made their way on foot to the parking lot to drive the SUV, that Rachmiel had parked there, to Base.

  When the Hummer reached the highway towards Freiburg, Mike was fully aware that Sergej and his men would be very upset about Mike's solo move, but Mike accepted that. Rachmiel would be much more cooperative in the base in Algeria than in the base in Germany. In addition, the danger that the alien would try to track down or even free Rachmiel would be much smaller. The driver of the H2 radioed to the Learjet that they would reach the airfield in a few minutes, the pilot's answer was that the plane was ready to take off and that they were just waiting for the cargo. Mike was nervous, worried if anything would happen on the last few meters, he breathed a sigh of relief as they drove onto the airfield and the rider slowed down on the last few meters. Rachmiel was dragged up the gangway by his guards under his arm and placed him in a seat. Mike jumped up the gangway when Rachmiel was in, the steward closed the door. Mike fell into a seat breathing heavily, saw the stairs being pushed away from to the plane, he heard the turbines being raised. Mike closed his eyes. The soldiers sat next to Rachmiel, first strapped him on and then themselves.

  The plane reached the runway, the pilot gave full throttle and the plane took off. Mike gave the instruction to inform him when they had left German airspace and then allowed himself a deep breath after he was informed that they were out of German airspace.

  Relief flowed through him. He had the target, he would have it questioned with every trick in the book, and then, and this was the main goal, he would have Rachmiel kick the alien out. He and Sergej had agreed that Rachmiel would be interviewed in Germany, but fuck it, now Mike could calmly explain Rachmiel why the alien could not stay with him. He was able to punish Rachmiel for his lack of willingness to cooperate, which Mike already foresaw. And once the alien was gone, would Rachmiel have to go back to Germany? No, not really.

  The problem of the missing communication between the alien and Rachmiel wouldn't be a problem either, Mike thought. He could invite the representative, to whom Rachmiel could possibly convey that he, Rachmiel, was no longer willing to give shelter to the alien. Complicated shit, Mike thought. Those fucking codes. Mike thought for a moment that Sergej wouldn't be very enthusiastic if he found out where Rachmiel was, but he didn't care. Flight time to the base in Algeria was about three hours, Mike learned from the steward, when he ordered a large double whiskey, which he drank and then indulged in the luxury of a nap.

  Sergej and his men were sitting in an air-conditioned van outside Rachmiel's house. He had just learned that Mike and Rachmiel were on their way to Algeria. Not only was Sergej not thrilled. He was boiling with rage. Mike had again afforded himself a highhandedness that surpassed everything else he had ever screwed up by far. Sergej's goal was to deliver the alien to his hunters. It was not his goal to destroy Rachmiel. It was clear to him that now, that Rachmiel was in Mike's custody, he would have to endure interrogation, for which the term "highly embarrassing interrogation" was only a euphemism. That's because Mike and his boys could do it. Because there were people who enjoyed such interrogations. Just fun. And Rachmiel had little chance of surviving.

  Besides, Sergej thought, it could well be that the re-released alien actually managed to kill not only his hunters but also reach the portal. And Sergej knew that there was a possibility that the portal would work in two directions. If the alien would come back then, very probably with several highly ill-tempered and resentful colleagues, then they would all up to their necks in shit. This would mean that this species would be a
ttacking this planet like a pack of wolves over a carcass.

  The alien, Sergej thought, had to be kept in a good mood. He, Sergej, was now responsible that the alien did nothing, that everything would go as Rachmiel had agreed. Five days were okay, nothing would be suspicious, but after the five days, they all had to have a story that convinced the alien on the one hand that everything was okay and on the other hand that story also had to convince Rachmiel's friend that stayed with the alien. If he would end it on his own, the alien would be under the protection of Rachmiel again and then it would search for Rachmiel and probably find it. It would make its way through Switzerland, through Italy and also through Algeria. All you had to do was follow the bodies.

  So, you would have to make up a story about how the five days of absence could become ten or fourteen days.

  Suddenly, Sergej cursed loudly and his men were frightened, they did not know that the boss lost his nerves. Sergej leaned back in his armchair and thought. He himself had too little information about this alien, about the species. He knew that this species was dangerous, he also knew that this species was highly intelligent. But he didn't know anymore, just hearsay. He had the information that a representative of this species had lived in Russia for some time, but he had no one in Russia to contact. Sergej decided to contact his contact person from whom he had received the information from Russia.

  For now, he and his men had no choice but to guard the house in the fucking van. But it would be boring because hardly anything happened. Rachmiels friend had bought groceries yesterday, Sergej knew what was for dinner, he also knew that Rachmiel's friend had gone to the toilet for a longer session at 23:17, Sergej also knew that Rachmiel's friend had called his wife last night. He actually knew everything and yet nothing.

  There was only one thing he was absolutely certain about; this had to be discussed with his men, never, under no circumstances was the alien allowed to know what was going on with his protector.

  Sighing Sergej took his mobile phone in his hand and searched for the number of his contact in Bulgaria.

  Interrogation

  Hannes woke up and didn't know where he was. His head hurt terribly. He opened his eyes and saw nothing. Darkness. He lay, he felt, on a cot, a plank bed; no pillow, instead of a mattress there was only rough fabric. There was no blanket. He was naked. He wasn't wearing shoes. His glasses were missing. He was lying on his back.

  Hannes turned carefully to the side. His head pounded. Panic flickered in Hannes. He bit his teeth together and tried to suppress the feeling. He had no idea where he was. The last memory was that he sat in the shelter and looked out over the Vosges.

  Suddenly a bright neon light lit up. Hannes raised his head, turned it left and right, saw that he was in a cell. Windowless, barely three meters long, two meters wide, about three meters high. At one end there was a steel door with a hatch. It was closed. Above the door was a camera, Hannes stood up, went to the door, looked up, a ring with infrared LEDs was mounted around the lens. A loudspeaker was next to the camera, embedded in the wall, only the grille was visible.

  The light on the ceiling began to flicker. Not particularly violent, but unpleasant. There was a stinking bucket with a lid on the other side. Hannes turned around and realized after a moment where he was. Again, panic began to raise. Again, he forced himself to suppress the feeling. What did they want? No matter who they were. Were they going to question him? As he had seen it in countless television documentaries? With an interrogation room with a chair attached to the floor? Where he was strapped down, dazzled by light while a person asked questions. Would he be beaten if he didn't give the right answers? With a rubber truncheon? With a thick cable? Were there even any electric shocks? Or would they inject him with anything? What did they want?

  Hannes sighed, sat down on the plank bed and struck his hands in front of his face.

  Immediately a machine voice sounded in incredible volume from the loudspeaker.

  "Sitting and lying are not permitted during this time! Get up!"

  Hannes jumped up, stood in front of the platform. He looked at the loudspeaker in horror. After a moment, he began to pass through the cell. His stomach cramped into an ice ball. He was afraid he'd admit that to himself. Real fear. Nothing happened for a while. Then another announcement sounded: "Stand against the wall opposite the door!" Hannes stood at the front and looked at the door. The pass-through opened and a tray was pushed through, a metal cup with a steaming liquid and a plate stood on it. "Take the tray and go to your starting position!"

  Hannes walked slowly to the door, grabbed the tray and stood against the other wall again. "You have five minutes to eat," the loudspeaker said. Hannes stood with the tray in his hands, thinking, then he put the tray on the bed and looked at what was on the tray. A cup with dark liquid, a plate with two slices of bread, a small packet of butter, a small portion of jam. Hospital portions. He took the cup and smelled before he drank; coffee, but thin. With his fingers, because there was no knife, Hannes smeared the butter and the jam on the two slices and swallowed them down. He just had the last bite in his mouth when the hatch opened again. Hannes hurried to push the tray through there. The hatch closed and Hannes was alone again. Hannes had to pee and went to the bucket. He lifted the lid and an incredible stench streamed out of the bucket. Disgusted Hannes pissed into the bucket and then closed the lid again.

  He spent the time passing through the cell but hoped later that the bright flickering light would eventually go out; he was dead tired and frightened.

  The light didn't go out. After an eternity the loudspeaker shouted: "Lie down on your back! The arms next to the body!" Hannes obeyed and looked at the flickering ceiling lamp. It didn't go out. Hanne closed his eyes, but the light, but above all the flickering of the light, caused headaches. Hannes turned his head to the side but was immediately rebuked. "Turn your head back towards the ceiling!" He obeyed. He had a hunch what that was all about. They wanted to soften him up. The question of why didn't arise either. It was about Ibby. He assumed they already knew everything. But were there other things they didn't know? Which they assumed he knew about?

  So, time passed. Hannes couldn't sleep. Suddenly the loudspeaker barked another announcement: "Get up! Stand against the front wall! Keep an arm-length distance! Extend your arm and touch the wall with the fingertip of your middle finger. Hold this position!"

  Hannes managed to hold this position for quite a while. His legs first tickled, then they slowly went numb. His back hurt. His arms began to tremble. After a few hours, he felt he had no strength left and his arms sank down. There was no new announcement from the loudspeaker, just an incredibly loud and shrill whistling. Hannes wanted to cover his ears, but the whistling became louder and louder. Hannes struggled to take up the indicated position again. The whistling stopped. After another eternity, he noticed his consciousness fading. He noticed him hitting the ground.

  An eternity passed, standing, with outstretched arms, middle fingertip on the wall, often he fainted, on other "days" he was allowed to lie down after hours. Hannes did not know after a short time how many days he had spent in this cell. The food was always the same, in the morning two slices of bread, a cup with a drink, at noon there was nothing, in the evening then a thin soup, or one or two potatoes and overcooked vegetables and a filled cup, usually a thin tea.

  Hannes woke up in a dark room. He was strapped to a chair. His head hurt, a spot on the back of his head pounded. The pain was unbearable. Hannes tried to move his arms, hands or legs, but he was completely fixated. He looked around the room disoriented; he only saw the outline of a table in front of him. The room seemed to be much larger than his cell. He sat on the chair for an eternity until a light came on abruptly and dazzled him. He heard footsteps behind him, turned his head, but he could not see anything except two dark dressed figures. When he heard footsteps from the front, he turned his head towards the light. He couldn't see who was sitting behind the table.

  "Hannes Rachmie
l?" the voice wanted to know.

  "Where am I?" asked Hannes, who heard a soft whistle behind him before something hard hit his head. A violet shower of sparks appeared before Hannes's eyes.

  "Answer the questions we ask," said the voice.

  "Yes, I'm Hannes Rachmiel."

  "Mr. Rachmiel, you have something that belongs to us," said the voice.

  Hannes raised his head.

  "She's with me, because she wants to." Another blow to the head.

  "You have something that belongs to us," the voice said again.

  Hannes didn't know what to say on it. He heard the person moving behind him. Then that thing hit him on the shoulder. An unbelievable pain twitched through him.

  "You have something that belongs to us," the voice repeated.

  "Do you want it back?" cawed Hannes.

  "Very nice. You understood," said the voice. "Now all we have to do is figure out how."

  "How?" Hannes wanted to know. Another blow to the head.

  Hannes left his chin on his chest. Another punch.

  "We need to figure out how," the voice said.

  "I don't know," said Hannes. "Tell me."

  "No, you have to say it," explained the voice. "We'll help you."

  The light went out. Hannes heard a quiet whistle behind him as if a flashlight is charging. Then the beating started. Hannes lowered his head as far as he could, but the people behind him understood their craft. He felt an object hit his lips and burst them, he felt how his shoulder blades were repeatedly beaten, he felt blood running from his head after a while, then he lost consciousness.

  He woke up again in his cell, it was dark, he was no longer tied up, but his body hurt as if he had a bath in a tub of fire. He could hardly move his right arm, he carefully felt over his head with his left hand, he palpated the laceration on his head, his lips. He could hardly move, everything on his body hurt unbelievably. He passed out again.