Lucia sniffed ironically.
‘So you think we’re the good guys?’
‘Well, I can’t see what’s bad about our mission.’
The conversation was stuck. The Killer girl was engrossed in her own thoughts as was Kea.
When they reached Antwerp, Lucia cruised around for a while. It was a strange town to her. Therefore, she simply followed her instincts.
The Porsche Cayenne rolled past a large building that might have been a museum. But a close look revealed it to be the main railway station.
Lucia activated the indicator.
‘Statiestraat, Hotel Diana. That’s the right place for us to stay.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Instinct.’
The Statiestraat was lined by cheap convenience stores, Kebab joints, hairdressers, dingy bars and gaming casinos between Italian and Chinese restaurants.
Hotel Diana fit perfectly into the scenery. It was simply bigger than the cheap shops and the seedy restaurants – but no grandeur to be expectedThe two women entered the foyer which smelled of cold cigarette smoke. Yellowed tourist posters showed that Antwerp had seen better times. The receptionist originated from either India or Pakistan. He greeted Lucia and Kea with a raised brow.
‘We need a room.’ Lucia said in English, colored by her American accent.
‘For an hour or longer?’
‘For a few days.’
Lucia paid for three days in advance. After they had filled in the registration form with their false names, they found their room on the first floor. In the adjoining rooms, other guest were occupied with either sex or watching Arabic television programs. Or both.
‘Aren't you shocked that the type at receptions thought us a pair of dikes? ’
‘No. And I think he has lots of guests with more unusal demands.’
They unlocked the room. It was furnished with a large French double bed, a wardrobe with a broken mirror, a tiny writing desk and chair. The ceiling was decorated by a gigantic water stain in the form of the State of Alabama.
Lucia glanced at Kea who tried hard to hide her distaste.
‘It will do for a few nights.’ The German mumbled. ‘Please add some disinfectants to the shopping list. Insecticides. And new sheets.’
‘Not exactly the Waldorf, that’s for sure. But at least we’re in the right area. This is where we find everything we need for our meeting with guys who have the baby.’
‘I thought your friend has already paid for the baby?’
He naïve question caused Lucia to shake her head for a fraction longer than necessary.
‘True – but do you want to face these monsters without a weapon in your hand? I certainly don’t.’
‘You’re getting us guns?’
‘Sure enough. And throwing knives for me. I assume that’s an art with which you’re not acquainted. Doesn’t matter. Shooting is easy enough, at least in closed quarters. You point the gun at the bastard and pull the trigger. It he doesn’t drop at once, you’ll shoot again. Repeat performance until he no longer moves. Understood?’
‘I thought you know no one in Europe, Lucia?’
‘That’s not far from the truth.’
‘And despite that, you want to buy guns and knives? How will you manage that?’
‘Illegal arms’ The Killer girl intoned. ‘I have no intention of traipsing into a gun shop and trying to purchase something legally. That would take too long and I would need a fake residence permit. Too risky!’
‘I still don’t see how you could get the guns otherwise.’
‘Then come with me, but keep your trap shut and learn.’
They left the room and walked down to the street. Groups of men stood around here and there. Some types whistled after them. Lucia noticed that her companion seemed uncomfortable.
‘Don’t worry about that lot, Kea. They got instincts like the animals they are. That tells them to leave us alone. Or at least me. Which is the same thing, since you’re under my protection.’
‘You think they sense that you are dangerous?’
‘I couldn’t have expressed it better myself.’
While they talked to each other, they strolled seemingly without purpose along Statiestraat. Suddenly Lucia stopped at a Chinese restaurant and studied the menu.
‘Do you want to eat something?’ Kea asked.
Lucia shook her head.
‘No – what do you notice about their prices?’
Kea shrugged.
‘I don’t know if they are generally lower than in Germany. It seems to me as if this place is quite reasonable. I suspect the quality is not particularly high.’
‘The quality don’t interest me. I don’t want to eat here anyway. Do you know why this chop suey joint is so cheap?’
Kea shook her head.
‘Because it isn’t necessary for this restaurant to make a profit. The place serves purely as a laundry for Triad money.’
Kea shook her head in wonder.
‘Aren’t the Triads a kind of Chinese Mafia? How do you know all that?’
‘Experience – by the way, the Triads are much more dangerous than the Italian Mafia. And keep your mouth shut when we take a walk in there, okay?’
Before Kea could object, she headed for the carved entrance door. Inside, they discovered the usual Chinese atmosphere with lacquered furniture and oriental pictures on the walls. It smelled of fried fish and the musical entertainment was Canton-Pop.
A young Asian man in a white shirt and black trousers greeted them and said something in Dutch.
‘Ni haow,’ Lucia replied and added a few words in broken Mandarin, hoping the waiter did not speak one of the many other Chinese dialects.
Kea glanced admiringly at her. Quite obviously, she had not been prepared for her companion to know any foreign language.
Lucia turned to her.
‘Sit down, drink Jasmine tea and don’t move from your seat until I’m back, Understood?’
Kea nodded without a word.
The waiter waved at Lucia to follow him. Together they disappeared behind a thick velvet curtain.
29
Jablonski could be annoyingly persistent. He continued knocking on Borges’ apartment door until she opened it to him. And that after at least six or seven minutes of announcing his presence without success. Finally, he heard the bolt being withdrawn, followed by a key turning.
His service partner opened and looked at him with reddened eyes.
‘What do you want here, Chuck? Have you come to molest me sexually?’
‘That’s not my style, Lenita. Unless you feel like it.’
‘And you can wait for that until your feet stick to the ground.’ She replied gruffly.
Jablonski tried not to show how disturbed he was by her appearance. That was not easy, since she wore only a NEW YORK YANKEE T-Shirt over a slip.
The heavily built agent had few objections against half-naked women. But half-naked women in despair aroused his professional interest more than lust. More so, when the distressed woman was his service partner.
And Borges distress was so obvious. He needed no psychological lessons to recognize it at once.
‘Can I come in?’
‘If you must. You can keep me company while I drown my sorrow with another drink or two. And if you’re trying to get into my underwear, I’ll flatten you. Attack against a federal agent – with that accusation I can kiss my FBI career finally good-bye. At least, while I’m still a federal agent. Does such an attack still count when it is enacted by another federal agent?. What do you say to that, super-brain?’
‘I suggest you go a little slow in drinking yourself into more trouble, Lenita.’
Jablonski looked around the apartment. It was no different from ten thousand other single homes everywhere in America. A combined living/bedroom, a kitchen annex and a bathroom with shower. Borges had decorated the walls with French cinema posters, otherwise it differed little from Jablonski’s own place.
He had pictures of well-tanned Hawaiian female surfers chosen for his walls.
The federal agent sat down at a corner breakfast table.
‘I only just heard from the old man, he had to suspend you after the Mario Lezzi interrogation. Would you mind telling me the whole story? I’ve got the time, having been excused for a week’s sick leave.’
‘Glory!’ His service partner sighed. ‘And that for nothing more than a broken rib.’
Jablonski grinned.
‘When you found me, you seemed more concerned than you are now. I was hoping for the kiss of life at that moment – with some tongue, maybe.’
‘In your wet dreams, maybe,’ Borges grunted.
But despite her acting ill-tempered, Jablonski sensed she was glad about his visit.
She threw an empty red wine bottle into the trash bin.
‘Well, I suppose a coffee for a change wouldn't do much damaged. Want a jug too?’
‘Sure. I never say no to such an offer, seeing there isn’t another one.’
She busied herself with the coffee machine. Then, suddenly, she burst into tears.
Jablonski got up and took her into his arms.
‘Damned cry-baby!’ Borges groaned. ‘I swore to myself I’d never show any weakness to a colleague. It’s that damned Portuguese wine.’
‘Right now I’m not your colleague but a friend. And no one will ever learn from me that you cried.’
She disentangled herself from his arms and blew her nose noisily.
‘Thank you, Jablonski – that son-of-a-bitch Mario Lezzi has really tied me up in knots. I never felt so stupid in all of my life. He knew exactly which buttons he had to press to get me mad. And I fell for it like a green beginner.’
She told him exactly how the prisoner had accused her of causing him a head wound. Jablonski frowned.
‘But you’re an intelligent lady. How did you allow yourself to be fooled by the bastard. I bet any quack would be able to state that the bump on his head did not come from being pistol-whipped.’
Borges nodded grimly.
‘But that’s exactly what I said, only it is pointless. Mario is playing the psycho card. He insists I stopped him from talking his medicine. Of course, that’s all bullshit. Anyhow, he got what he wanted. He’s back in psychiatry where he can twist the stupid doctors round his little finger. He’s a master of manipulation, we have to admit that much.’
‘It sounds as if you know him better than most.’ Jablonski said slowly.
Borges replied nothing to the unspoken question. Instead, she busied herself to pour the coffee for her colleague and herself. Then she said: ‘Can you keep a secret, Chuck.’
He nodded.
She took a deep breath before she continued: ‘I had a fling with Mario when I worked undercover. And that at a time when I was aware of his criminal activities.’
Jablonski nodded and took a sip of coffee.
‘Good.’
‘But you don’t mean Mario?’
‘No. Just the coffee – you must have had your reasons.’
‘Yes, I had those! Blame it on the damned hormones. At the time, I’d fallen head over heel for him. My brain simply didn’t work right. And when I saw him again …’
She stopped herself from saying more.
‘You wanted to make good the mistake. That was why it seemed so important not to call for assistance before we went in. You had a personal account to settle with Mario Lezzi. But your feelings haven’t suddenly disappeared. They are still there and when you met him again, they only grew stronger.’
Borges applauded him ironically.
‘A brilliant analysis, Sherlock Holmes. But seriously, you are quite right. That alone is a good reason to remove me permanently from the service.’
‘Bullshit!’ Jablonski hissed. ‘Just because you had feelings doesn’t make you a bad agent.’
She closed her eyes.
‘You don't get it. Mario managed to pull his head from the noose because I arrested him. He knows my weakness better than anyone else. If you or any other agent had taken him off the scene, Mario would be sweating it out now in a federal prison instead of refreshing himself in psycho after a few stressful days.’
‘We don’t know that. I shall make sure Mario Lezzi will be under strict observation in the clinic since he is a danger to the public. For all we know, he might be a serial killer, like this man-eater from the movie.’
Borges was skeptical.
‘Do you really think the gods in white frocks will listen to a simple FBI agent? They think themselves unfailing in their work.’
‘It’s worth a try. Besides, we should concentrate on the manhunt for Lucia Lezzi and Kea Kuhn, which is still running at high intensity. I think, Mario is simply a tool in the hand of his sister,’ Jablonski guessed. ‘As soon as Lucia is behind bars, he’ll go to pieces.’
Borges took a long sip of coffee. She felt a little more confident.
‘I’m really glad you came, Chuck. I still don’t know if my suspension will be lifted, or even can be. But I can’t sink into a mire of self-pity.’
30
When Lucia returned from the back room, with two pistols and ammunition – but relieved of the burden of carrying several thousand Euros in cash in her bag –, Kea had disappeared.
The killer girl narrowed her eyes and inspected the room. There was only an elderly couple at a corner table, spooning their Wan-Tan soup.
Was it possible that Kea was connected to the kidnappers, despite everything she had thought?, Lucia asked herself. Had she simply acted the innocent from the backwoods, purely to fool Lucia or lead her into a trap? Were there now a few cutthroats waiting outside to deal with her, Lucia?
She sensed that her own suspicions threatened to overwhelm her. Maybe there was a perfectly harmless explanation for Kea’s absence.
She might have gone to the toilet.
Lucia took the way to the doors marked with the symbols for men and ladies, and kept her eyes peeled for any nasty surprises. And she congratulated herself having loaded the two purchased weapons, so they were ready for action. Nothing, however, pointed to an immediate danger.
In the room with a few sinks a fat man with dark blond hair lay on the floor, moaning softly due to a head wound that seeped blood. She heard an additional weeping sound that originated not from the wounded man.
She drew one of her pistols and climbed over him.
‘Kea?’
‘I’m here,’ the German answered.
There were three toilet cubicles. Kea had sought refuge in the last. The door was not bolted. When Lucia opened the door she saw her companion.
Kea sat completely dressed on the toilet. Except for the shoe she held in one hand. There was blood on the heel and tears on Kea’s cheeks.
Lucia pointed with her head towards the man on the floor.
‘Did fatty try to get into your underwear?’
Kea nodded. ‘I had to go to the toilet. Suddenly someone grabbed my breasts from behind and pushed me against the wall. I fell and slipped my shoe off. And then I hit him with the heel as hard as I could.’
‘Good reflexes.’ Lucia said with appreciation. ‘The shoe heel is the best weapon when you have nothing else to hand.’
‘Is he dead?’ Kea whispered, close to tears.
‘Heavens no. A hit with the heel it isn’t the best way to kill someone. Let’s get out of here. I don’t think the chinks will call the police, but we won’t risk it anyway. I managed to get us some artillery.’ She showed Kea one of the pistols.
‘A pity he didn’t have any throwing knives in his arsenal. That would have been too nice to be true. We had better get you another pair of shoes. Yours are good enough to deal with randy sex merchants, but sneakers are miles better for running away. It may be, we’ll have to do the odd sprint before we're through here.’
Before they left the ladies’ toilets, Lucia executed a hefty kick at the squirming pervert, aiming where it hurt most. Fatty moaned a
little louder.
‘Whoever troubles my friend can expect trouble from me,’ she hissed.
And then they left the restaurant as if nothing had happened,
‘Did you really mean it?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Lucia asked.
‘That I’m your friend.’
‘Oh, that was the only word that came into my mind,’ Lucia replied. ‘Don’t think I’m going soft on you. I trust nobody except my brother and Gordon. You can write that down and put it on your mirror.’
In truth, she found her relationship with Kea hard to analyze or express. But she pushed the problem from her mind. That was unimportant right now. All that mattered was Adrian’s fate.
A short stretch further on she purchased a cheap throwaway mobile phone and a Sim-Card. She switched the phone on and called the kidnappers.
31
Jablonski felt a grim satisfaction when he learned of the results of the investigation that had been conducted. They had found Mario Lezzi’s fingerprints on one of the weapons used in the crime.
Since his sick leave had ended, he was back at work. Together with agent Vince Orlando he drove to the Manhattan Psychiatric Center where the suspect had been held after his transfer from the FBI station.
Jablonski tried to call Borges, but all he could reach was her mail box.
‘Lenita! When you get my message, call me at once. For once Lezzi has played the innocent too often. He is implicated in the murders at the gas station in Staten Island. He must have somehow forgotten about that. Call me back when you can. I’m sure your suspension should be lifted soon.’
He ended the message. His new partner laughed softly.
‘You fancy Borges, I think. Have you managed to get into her pants?’
‘And have you ever had your nose broken, Vince? You’re speaking about an honorable FBI colleague.’
Orlando lifted his elegant hands in protest.
‘Hey, everything is cool. Relax, Chuck. How was I to know you’re a preacher of morals?’
‘You can’t know everything,’ Jablonski replied, somewhat sour. He was far from pleased having this self-appointed great womanizer as a partner.
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