The Mozart Conspiracy: A Novel bh-2

by Scott Mariani

  ‘I don’t know who he is,’ Ben muttered truthfully.

  Kroll watched him closely, as though assessing whether or not to believe him. He nodded. ‘You should follow politics, Major. That is Philippe Aragon. The candidate for the EU Commission Vice-Presidency. He is your target.’

  ‘I’m not an assassin.’

  ‘That is precisely what you are. And you like to keep your skills well-practised. It isn’t long since you gunned down five men in cold blood on your little mercy mission in Turkey.’ Kroll waved that aside. ‘Anyway, I didn’t say I wanted him assassinated. We want you to bring him to us. We will take care of him.’

  ‘I imagine you will,’ Ben said. ‘I’ve seen the sick things your Order of Ra does to people.’

  ‘The Order of Ra!’ Kroll’s wrinkled face split into a yellow smile and he twisted his neck to grin up at Glass. Glass smirked.

  Kroll wiped his mouth and his grin faded. ‘It has been a long time since anyone has called us by that ridiculous old name. The Order of Ra is part of history, my young friend. It is as much a relic as its founder, my great-great-great grandfather Viktor Kroll.’

  ‘But I see you keep up some of your traditions,’ Ben said. ‘Bullet in the head too modern for you people?’

  ‘Some people are worth no more than a bullet,’ Kroll said. ‘For men like Philippe Aragon we reserve a special kind of reception.’

  ‘Like ritual execution,’ Ben replied.

  Kroll shrugged. ‘Some traditions are worth keeping.’

  ‘What are you going to do, cut his tongue out the way you did to that other guy-whoever he was?’

  Kroll said nothing. He watched Ben for a moment, again as though assessing the truth of his words. Then he gave that icy smile once more. ‘The punishment fits the crime,’ he said. ‘Men who cannot keep their tongues from wagging have them removed. In Aragon’s case we have something a little different in mind. This will take place in precisely two days from now, after you have acquired him and delivered him to a prearranged rendezvous with my agents.’ Kroll reached out and pressed another key. The image of Aragon was replaced with a picture of a house.

  Ben ran his eyes over the unusual building. The house was a radical design of curved steel and glass, cut into the side of a sweeping embankment. It was a peaceful setting. The sky was blue, the grass was green and there were rolling hills in the background.

  Cuffed in his chair, blood running down his face, Leigh dead, Ben wanted to be in that peaceful scene more than anything in the world. Anywhere but here.

  Kroll’s finger clicked rapidly and multiple images flowed in a slideshow, of the house from different angles, front and overhead views, lakes and hills in the background. Architect’s plans and design blueprints flashed up, and Ben took them in as Kroll went on: ‘The house is in Belgium, an hour from Brussels. An hour ago my sources informed me that he will be alone there for three days as of tomorrow while his wife and family attend a wedding in America. Aragon was planning to travel with them, but due to work pressures he changed his mind. This presents a perfect opportunity for a man with your skills and in your particular predicament. It’s the only reason I have decided to keep you alive. For the moment, I should add.’

  The screen went blank. Kroll leaned back in his chair. ‘If you complete the task successfully, we will let the girl go back to her father, and you will also have your freedom. You can go back to freelance assassination in the name of rescuing the needy, or however you like to justify what you do.’ Kroll paused again and knitted his long fingers together under his chin. ‘If you refuse, or if you try to double-cross us in any way, you will first watch the girl die and then you yourself will die. I hope I make myself clear. There will be no second chances.’

  Ben said nothing.

  Kroll went on. ‘Now, I know what kind of man you are, Major Hope. I know perfectly well that if we let you walk free, it’s in your nature to attempt a reprisal against us. However, please remember that we can get to the child and her father at any time. Not only that, but we can also put a very quick end to your operation. If you ever show any sign of playing tricks with us, you will immediately be taken and transported to Turkey. Our contact there would be very interested in acquiring you for the murder of five men.’

  ‘I’m not a murderer,’ Ben said quietly. ‘I save people.’

  ‘Really? Yet you consider it fair exchange to expend five lives to free a single child.’

  ‘Two children,’ Ben said. ‘They were innocent. The men running the paedophile ring weren’t. And they weren’t going to stop doing it.’

  ‘What a noble calling you have, Major. Perhaps you were unaware that they were police officers? Corrupt officers, granted, but nonetheless the authorities do not like it when a vigilante takes it upon themselves to kill their agents.’

  ‘I did know that. All the more reason to kill them.’

  Kroll waved his thin hand dismissively. ‘Perhaps so. But we are not discussing ethics here. It’s you we are talking about. Imprisonment in Turkey is not a pleasant experience. There would be no trial, and no possibility of parole. You would spend the next three decades or so in great discomfort, and if you ever saw freedom again it would be as a very old and broken man. I want you to bear all this in mind as you make your decision, Major. We own your life. We control you completely. You have no options, other than a coward’s death here today if you refuse to cooperate.’

  ‘You’ve really got this sewn up, haven’t you?’

  Kroll chuckled. ‘We should have by now, after two centuries of practice.’

  Ben let his straining muscles relax against the chair. ‘Why me?’ he asked wearily. Blood trickled into his mouth.

  ‘It’s very simple,’ Kroll said. ‘Aragon has many bodyguards. We have tried to get him before, and he has become very suspicious. He is well protected. We need someone with proven expertise in the art of stealth, who can slip in and out of heavily guarded places undetected. Secondly, you cannot be connected to us. If you get caught or killed, the newspapers will report that a loner, a neo-fascist, tried to assassinate the great man.’ He smiled. ‘Naturally, I need not remind you that if you are caught, you will keep your mouth shut. Or else the child dies and it’s a one-way ticket to Turkey for you.’

  ‘I should go with him,’ Glass said, watching Ben intently from behind Kroll’s chair. ‘Make sure he doesn’t get up to any tricks.’

  Kroll smiled and shook his head. ‘No need for that,’ he replied. ‘I believe we can trust our finder of lost children not to misbehave. He knows what will happen to our young guest if he does.’ He sat back, satisfied with himself. It was a perfect plan, an opportunity he’d been waiting for a long time. Aragon dead, Hope neutralized and pressed into service, Kinski silenced, all at a stroke.

  Ben hung his head. He searched for a way out.

  There wasn’t one.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The von Adler mansion

  Later that evening

  Kroll had laid out some more clothes and jewels for her. As Eve slipped into the low-cut dress, his voice in the speakers told her quietly that she was to come upstairs. Not to the mirror room this time, but to a place she hadn’t been inside for over a year. He wanted her in his bedroom.

  As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, she wondered what he had in store for her this time. The relationship had never been sexual, not in any normal sense, since that first time. The idea of getting physical with him made her cringe.

  She walked the wide corridor and arrived at the double doors. She could hear Kroll’s voice on the phone inside the room. She listened.

  ‘The whole committee will be in attendance, as usual,’ he was saying. ‘If all goes according to plan, and I’m confident it will, we’ll be in a position to conclude our business matter on the night of my little Christmas soirée.’ A pause. ‘Yes, I’ll keep you informed.’ Another pause. ‘Very well. I will see you in two days, then.’ Silence.

  She waited a minute o
r so before she knocked on the door.

  He was waiting for her inside the vast bedroom, sitting primly in a wing chair beside a crackling fire. There was champagne in an ice bucket on the table near the four-poster. He was wearing a silk robe. He greeted her with a smile. ‘Champagne?’

  ‘What’s the celebration?’ she asked. She accepted the crystal flute he passed her, and sipped a little.

  ‘An opportunity has arisen to dispose of a certain little problem that has been bothering me for a long time,’ he said. ‘But don’t let me bore you with such details, my dear.’ Kroll walked around behind her. She closed her eyes as he laid his bony, cold hands on her naked shoulders. She could feel his thumbs rubbing on her skin. ‘You’re tense,’ he said softly.

  She was repulsed by his touch. She put down her glass and moved away quickly.

  ‘Why do you hate me?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t hate you, Werner.’

  ‘You find me repellent,’ he said. ‘Don’t think it escapes me. Nothing does.’ He watched her. ‘You’ve changed somehow. There’s something different about you.’

  She looked away. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  He thought for a moment, rubbing his chin and observing her in that birdlike way of his. ‘Something has been perplexing me, Eve,’ he said. ‘You were alone with Hope for a long time. Much longer than usual. I did wonder why that was.’

  Eve measured her reply cautiously. ‘I had to be careful with him. He was more dangerous than the others.’

  ‘Very dangerous,’ Kroll agreed. ‘Yet you didn’t seem too anxious to get away from him. You were alone for nearly three hours. A lot can happen in that time.’

  ‘I had to find the right moment.’

  ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘We talked,’ she said.

  ‘You talked. About what?’

  ‘Just things. Music. Life. Nothing special. Then he slept for a while. Why are you asking me these questions? I got him for you. I did what you told me to do. Finished. It’s over.’

  Kroll raised one eyebrow. ‘He slept? In your bed?’

  ‘On my sofa,’ she said impatiently. ‘I suppose you think I was fucking him, is that it?’

  ‘It had crossed my mind,’ he said. ‘I understand that you have needs. I saw the way you were looking at his picture. He’s young, and not entirely unattractive.’

  ‘You mean was?’

  He smiled coldly. ‘Oh, he isn’t dead, if that’s what you think. He’s far too useful to me for that.’

  Eve’s pulse quickened, but she was an expert in covering her reactions. ‘I don’t care either way,’ she said. ‘I just don’t like these questions.’ She turned away from him. Ben Hope was still alive.

  Kroll took a tiny, dainty sip of his drink, watching her. ‘It’s not your place to challenge my questions,’ he said. ‘Remember who and what you are.’

  Who and what she was. The words bit into her. She spun and glared at him. ‘You’re jealous, aren’t you? You think I felt something for him and you can’t stand it.’

  His smile slipped. ‘Don’t fence with me.’

  ‘You can’t stand it because you know that deep down you’re just a frightened, weak old man who can’t get it u—’

  His hand caught her hard around the face and her head spun. His eyes bulged in the bony skull, and his white hair was in disarray. ‘All it takes is one phone call,’ he warned in a trembling voice. ‘And I can erase you. I will end you.’

  ‘I’m already officially dead,’ she retorted. ‘You might as well finish the job.’

  ‘I wouldn’t make it that easy for you. Your life would become a living hell.’

  ‘I’m already there.’

  He turned his back on her and walked across the room. He laughed bitterly. ‘I should have let them lock you away forever six years ago.’

  There wasn’t a day when she didn’t wish he had. He’d owned her completely for those six years.

  She’d been twenty years old when it had happened. Back in those days, she’d had a proper identity, for what it was worth. There’d been nothing more than a violent, abusive father and a drunk of a mother to hold Eva Schultz in Hamburg. She’d hitched a ride and somehow ended up at the other end of the country. Men were drawn to her pretty face and striking figure. She’d quickly learned you could make money out of that. As time went by, she got very good at doing things that very few of the girls would do. She was popular and attracted a particular clientele-a lot of the clients were rich men who turned up with bodyguards and limousines.

  Kroll had been a client once, just once. The sex had been a disaster. Ever since then, he’d just wanted to watch. He barely slackened his tie.

  The fat Russian was different. He was a slob who loved dirty sex and went at it like a slavering mastiff to a plate of meat. That was fine, she could cater for that. He’d hired her for the whole night, and she’d kept him going for most of it. Outside the door, the two guards with Uzi submachine pistols had waited quietly, listening. They were used to hearing what was coming through the door.

  In the morning the guards were gone. Eva Schultz woke up and rolled out of bed. She’d felt strangely drowsy, but she put it down to the vodka he’d brought with him. It had never occurred to her that she’d been drugged. The moment she’d realized something was wrong was when she’d placed a bare foot on the floor and felt something sticky. She’d looked down. The room was a sea of blood. The Russian had been stabbed. Later, she’d learn he had sixty-seven stab wounds in him. His bloated body was lying at the foot of the bed.

  She’d still been staggering about the room in shock when the men in dark coats had found her. One of them was someone she knew. It was Werner Kroll. The ID he showed meant nothing to her. He’d said something about the secret service, but her mind had been too full of horror and the after-effects of the drug to take it in properly. She’d been bundled into a car and taken to a room with no windows. They’d told her the deal, told her how lucky she was that the police hadn’t found her first.

  They sympathized. Yes, they knew she was innocent. But who would believe a whore? Her prints were all over the knife and it didn’t look good. Her client was a very important man and the courts were going to crucify her. She’d go to jail for the rest of her life.

  And there was more. Kravchenko had connections. They didn’t tell her what those connections were. It was enough for her to know that she wouldn’t be safe in prison. Someone would get to her sooner or later. But if she let them deal with it they could help her. They told her some of the ways she could do that.

  She’d been too scared to refuse Kroll’s offer, and with her prospects in tatters there’d been no real reason not to clutch at the lifeline he was giving her. She’d grabbed it with both hands and said yes to everything.

  She’d never seen the inside of a jail or a courtroom. Instead, they’d taken her away to a compound somewhere. She didn’t ask what was going on, and she didn’t care. All she knew, over the next few months, was that she was safe. She’d been given a set of rooms to live in, simple but comfortable. She’d accepted the confinement, the guards outside the door, the total lack of communication with the outside world. Kroll had come to see her once a week, checking she was all right and being looked after. He told her nothing about the Kravchenko incident. She’d wondered if he was going to ask her for sex. He never did.

  Eva Schultz had officially died in the same accident that killed the Russian. Eva had become Eve. Eve nobody. A non-person, a ghost. She never asked who really killed the Russian. She never asked whose body had doubled for hers, or how it had been obtained. She just wanted to forget the whole thing and start afresh.

  Of course, there’d been a price to pay.

  After six months, with a new nose and a different look, she’d left the compound and come to live at the big house. Now she was directly, personally, under Kroll’s wing. She had jewels and beautiful clothes. He’d taught her how to pass herself off as a lady-how to talk, how to
walk, how to dress. Her acting ability surprised even her.

  She was suffocated in his care. The more she’d found out about who he really was and what he really did, the deeper he’d sucked her into his world. Information. Manipulation. Power. She was the honeytrap that none of the carefully selected targets seemed to be able to resist.

  One day, he’d taken her into a study, opened a safe and asked her to look inside. Stored in a plastic bag was the knife that had killed Kravchenko, still smeared in the dead man’s dried blood and with her fingerprints on the handle. He had said nothing. Just showed her, so she understood.

  There were more crimes to add to the list now, and some of them she really had been involved with. She could never get out of here, never tell anyone the truth. If she did, she knew she probably wouldn’t even make it as far as jail.

  She watched him now as he walked across the room and stood near the crackling fire with his back to her. Her face was livid and tingling where he’d slapped her.

  ‘You were right, Werner,’ she said. ‘I do hate you.’

  He turned with a wrinkled yellow grin. ‘I’ve never doubted it,’ he said. ‘But you’ll always stay close to me.’

  ‘What choice do I have?’

  ‘None whatsoever,’ he said. ‘By the way, I have a little job for you.’

  She grimaced. What was it this time?

  ‘You might enjoy this,’ he said, seeing her expression. ‘You can learn to exercise your underused maternal instincts. Clara Kinski is coming to stay with us. I want you to look after her, keep her quiet. If necessary subdue her.’

  Even Kroll had never descended to anything like child abduction before. Her heart began to pound harder. ‘How long are you keeping her here?’ she asked.

  Kroll smiled. ‘Oh, not long,’ he said. ‘Just for the rest of her life.’

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Ben lay and stared at the dark, grey ceiling above him until it swam in front of his eyes. He looked at his watch. Only five minutes had gone by since the last time he’d checked it. His mind had been working so furiously that it seemed like hours.