by Jack July
“Did he leave a forwarding address? Anything?”
“No sir, we searched the apartment. It’s clean.”
“Oh bloody hell, now what?”
Amy rubbed his back and said, “I’m still waiting on a trace from the call. I’m sure they will have an address. We’ll get her back. Just relax, okay?”
“I just...I have a really bad feeling,” said Bogus.
Intuition was something Bogus had buckets of. Suddenly Amy got a cold chill; she began to feel his fear.
After Bogus and Amy left the kitchen, the pouch on the table began to vibrate. Micky picked up the pouch, unzipped it and took out an odd looking phone. It buzzed again, so he hit the green button and held it to his ear. A woman began speaking. “Fenian, I have the address, do you have something to write with?”
Micky reached across the table and grabbed the pen and paper. He didn’t speak, he grunted “Mm Hm.”
“Okay, according to aerial photographs, it’s a walled mansion just outside Bratislava on the Danube in a place called Sihot. The address is…”
Micky wrote it down then hung up. He felt responsible for Claire leaving. He could have stopped her. His fifteen-year-old mind flooded with his newly discovered sense of honor allowed no room for common sense. The Lady said I am the knight of the Castle. Is this true? Am I really? If this is true, then it is my job to bring her home. She is my friend, my responsibility. I brought her here. I’m going to go get her. I need to make this right.
Four hours after Adele’s discussion with Stinson, Masters came into her office. “What do ya know, John?”
“He doesn’t know where he went. It was just like Braddock. What we do know are the names of two senators and a congressman who leaked confidential information to him, and what that information was. The FBI will be dragging them out of bed and arresting them shortly.”
“Do the analysts have anything?”
“They’re still gathering info.”
Adele sighed, “I’m going to catch a nap on the couch. I suggest you do the same. We’ll go after it again in the morning.”
“It is morning.”
“Just give me a couple hours.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter 52
Micky walked out to the inner courtyard where the group stood trying to decide on a course of action. Micky went to Amy and said, “I’m going to the gatehouse. Would you let me know if you hear anything?”
Amy gave him a hug. “Yes, you’ll be the first to know. Why don’t you take a shower and get some rest?”
“Yes, My Lady.”
Kratos gave Micky a ride to the gatehouse. As soon as he was alone, Micky picked up the phone and called a taxi. He went to his bedroom, took the money from his dresser and counted it. Five hundred and eighty Euros, more money that he’d ever had in his life. He arranged pillows in the bed so it looked like he was sleeping. He thought about taking a change of clothes but decided he wouldn’t be gone that long.
Half an hour later, a taxi picked him and took him to Shannon Airport. There was one red-eye flight to Vienna available. Vienna was only 35 miles from Bratislava, so he figured he could take a bus or train. The ticket cost three hundred and forty Euros. He knew he wouldn’t have enough money to get them both home, but once he found her he would call the Lady, and he knew she would send the plane. Two hours later, he boarded the plane for the three-hour flight.
Adele read through the information provided by the analyst and came up with nothing. It was 9:00 p.m. when it occurred to her she hadn’t been home in almost two days. She called her husband and talked to him for about a half hour. She missed him. He wasn’t from that world. He was a Accountant and the simple, easygoing son of an Illinois farmer. When they met, Adele was in her early forties and never married. He was recently widowed; his wife of twenty years had died of breast cancer. He asked her to dance at a fundraiser. They talked for a while and she found that he scared the hell out of her. Not because he was frightening, but because she couldn’t read him. She had been in covert ops for so long she had forgotten that there were actually people who were what they appeared to be. Two months later, she asked him to marry her. He said yes.
Karen tapped on the door. “Ma’am, one of the analysts just dropped off some more information you may want to look at. It came off the AP wire. They’re running with it tomorrow.”
Adele opened the file, looked at the pictures and read the news story. The pictures were of Meyer Braddock and the murdered girl who had unwillingly donated her liver.
“Oh, shit. Get Braddock on the phone. I’d better give him a heads-up.”
“Ah, no ma’am, that’s not possible. The AP sent a reporter to his house this afternoon and gave him this package, asking him for comment. He shot himself an hour ago. He’s dead.”
She rubbed her temples and said, “Shit,” under her breath. “Okay, anything else?”
“Yes ma’am. Fenian requested a trace on a call from a home in Bratislava to her, well ah, castle.”
“What for?”
“They don’t know.”
“Get her on the phone.”
“Ma’am, it’s 2:00 a.m. in Ireland.”
Adele arched her eyebrows and looked at her over the top of her glasses. Karen snapped to with a, “Yes ma’am, right away.”
Amy lay in the bed with her head on Bogus’ chest, listening to him breathe. He was sound asleep. She couldn’t sleep, her mind wouldn’t stop creating senarios. Surely Claire was okay. It was just a matter of finding her and bringing her home. But there was something else, something that made her a little sad. This was the first night they had spent together when they didn’t make love. It wasn’t that either turned the other down; it was the emotions of life that had stolen the moment. They merely climbed into bed and turned out the lights.
The room was cool without the fireplace burning, so she reached down for the other comforter and pulled it up around her, then snuggled in closer to her husband. The SAT phone buzzed. She got up quickly and picked up the handset. They got the address, she thought. She hit the button and listened. “Hi, honey,” said Adele.
“Hi, what’s going on?”
“I was going to ask you the same question.”
“What do you mean?”
“Who do you know in Bratislava?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s a long story.”
“Really? Is it longer than the story I have of one of our analysts being killed there two days ago?”
“No way. Who?”
“Carter Spencer.”
“Oh no! I know him, he’s a great guy. His family...oh God. He’s an analyst, why?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Now, what business do you have in Bratislava?”
Amy related the story and Adele began to draw a parallel with hers. “So you say this German doctor’s name is Adolf Wirths?”
“Yeah.”
“Hold on a minute,” Adele called for Karen. “Karen, have the analysts find everything they can about this man. Tell them they have twenty minutes.” Then she spoke to Amy again. “Okay honey, now sit down. I have a story for you…”
Fifteen minutes later, Amy sat stunned. Then Adele said, “You have the address, what did you find?”
“I don’t have the address. They never called.”
“According to this they did.”
“No, no they didn’t. What is it?”
Adele read off the address as Fenian wrote it down.
Karen walked in and handed Adele a sheet of paper. “Hold on a second.” Adele began to read. “I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
“His grandfather is Eduard Wirths, the chief doctor at Auschwitz. His mother is Delana Wirths, member of the German Nazi Party. Son of a bitch, Braddock told the truth. They’re fucking Nazis.”
“
Wait a minute, you’re saying Claire is with...oh no, oh my God! BOGUS!” She yelled, “Get up, get up, call Tigger, we have to go.”
“Stop right there, young lady!” Adele barked. “I will have you a team in twelve hours. This will be a planned assault. You will not storm in there and get your ass killed. SVR is involved. You will wait for a team.”
“I’m sorry Adele, I can’t. This is family. I have to get there.”
“What’s going on?” asked Bogus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“DAMMIT FENIAN, THAT IS AN ORDER!”
“Sorry, Adele, I’m going.”
Shit, thought Adele. “Okay, just give me a second, let me think.”
Amy turned to Bogus and said, “Claire is in danger. I’ll explain to you on the way. I have the address and we need body armor and weapons, big assault.”
“What?” asked Bogus, still not fully awake.
“Okay, okay, Fenian?”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t Bogus’s security team made up of spooks and mercenaries?”
“Yes.”
“Put together a team. Please, dammit, be careful.”
“So I have your permission?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, send me some Aerial photos of the property.”
“I’m on it.”
“ROE?” asked Fenian.
“Kill ’em all.” replied Adele.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll call you when it’s over.”
Chapter 53
At 4:00 a.m., Amy and Bogus walked to the outer courtyard where the security team was waiting. Bogus asked her, “Do you wish me to run the op?”
“No, I’ll handle it.”
“Then you will have to tell them who you are.”
“They haven’t figured it out by now?”
“I think they have figured out you’re not the average housewife. Princeton knows, but the rest? If you want them to follow you, they need to know.”
“You trust them all?”
“With my life.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have to do.”
Luther, Allister and Kratos stood in black tactical gear as Amy approached. They hadn’t expected the Lady to be decked out in tactical gear complete with Desert Eagle and KA-BAR. They glanced at each other, then at Bogus who remained stoic
“Princeton should be along shortly,” Bogus announced.
Amy leaned over and whispered, “You think he might be a little old for this?”
Bogus shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to go at him.”
Amy nodded as the headlights of Princeton’s Land Rover illuminated the courtyard. Princeton jumped out and said, “Micky is gone.”
“What?” Bogus and Amy exclaimed at the same time.
“His bed was made up to look like there was someone in it. His money is gone from his dresser.”
Amy closed her eyes and realized, He was the one that answered the phone. He went to get her, dammit. She opened her eyes and addressed the group. “Alright, let’s get started.”
Amy’s Fenian voice and cadence was something they had never heard, so when she began to speak, they all looked at Bogus. Bogus shook his head, interrupted her and said, “She’s running the op.”
With force and volume Amy said, “Yes, I am. I am an operative for the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency. That’s all you need to know. Claire and now Micky have become involved in a black market organ-harvesting ring. We will be assaulting a large walled compound in a few hours with no idea what we’ll be facing. If you do not want to volunteer, I understand.”
Luther didn’t hesitate. “I’m in.” The others nodded in agreement.
They could hear the big S-92 Sikorsky approach as Amy continued, “We will stop at the house in Poland, arm up and pick up another shooter. I have the blessing of the CIA but we will have no back-up. We’re going in hard and fast with the goal of eliminating all occupants. Any questions?”
They all shook their heads. Allister turned to Luther and said, “Just like the old days, huh Luth?”
Luther nodded and did something he rarely did. He smiled.
After he landed in Vienna, Micky took the 6:00 a.m. bus to Bratislava. Forty-five minutes later, he sped in a taxi down the rural road to Delana Wirth’s country mansion. He asked the driver to wait while he walked to the front gate. With a chill he realized the place looked like some sort of prison surrounded by nine-foot stone and concrete walls, their tops lined with coils of razor wire. A twelve foot tall, twenty feet wide, black wrought iron front gate that was topped with spikes prevented entry. It appeared to open in the middle and swing into a courtyard. To the left Micky saw a smaller pedestrian gate with a gray speaker box. He pushed the button. A voice answered in curt Russian, “Da?”
“I’m here to see Claire Davis.”
There followed fifteen seconds of silence, then in broken English the voice said, “No one here by that name. Leave now.”
Micky didn’t believe it. He thought, She’s here, I know she’s here. He pressed the button again and spoke into the box, “I know she’s here. I’ve traveled from Ireland to see her. Please, I just need to speak to her.”
The voice boomed through the box, “Leave now or we will call police.”
Micky transitioned from defeated to angry in seconds. He knew she was there, she had to be there. Okay, he thought, this wouldn’t be the first place to try and keep me out. If I can just get in to see her, I can convince her to come home. He walked back to the taxi and got in. Two hundred yards down the road he ordered the taxi driver to stop. Micky paid him, got out and began to case the building and its defenses from the surrounding tree line. The wall was rough and craggy—plenty of places for hand and footholds. The razor wire stopped at the supporting pillars, he could climb over there. He didn’t notice the cameras placed along the walls and rooftop.
Aleksey called the Countess over to the video monitors. “Vat is that little urchin doing?”
“He’s climbing the wall.”
“How brave.” The Countess laughed an evil laugh and said, “Vell, if he vants to see Claire, ve vill show him Claire. Meet him on zee other side of the vall.”
“Yes, Countess.”
Micky jumped from the top of the wall, hit the ground and rolled. Out of nowhere he felt a large hand grab the back of his neck. “Come,” Aleksey commanded. He was roughly taken into the house where Countess Wirths met them in a parlor.
“Vell, hello young man. To vat do I owe the honor of dis visit?”
Though Micky was frightened, he tried to act tough. “My name is Micky Regan. I am a knight of The Castle Dunn, and I am here to see Claire Davis.”
Wirths’ eyes went wide as she clasped her hands together and smiled. “Did you hear dat, Aleksey? A knight. How exciting.” She playfully looked around behind him, “Sir Micky, vhere is your horse?”
Micky was starting to understand she was teasing him. “Um, at the Castle.”
Wirths threw up her hands and exclaimed, “At the Castle, of course. How silly of me.” She shook her head with a small laugh. “Okay, vell, if you vant to see Claire, follow me.”
Urged along by Aleksey, Micky followed Wirths to the end of a long hall and into an open elevator. Aleksey hit the button, and Micky felt the elevator descend. When it opened, Wirths stepped out and called, “Claire, Claire darling, you have a visitor.” She turned left, then stopped as though she heard something. She smiled at Micky and said, “She’s in here.”
Wirths led them into a cold dark room. Aleksey flipped a switch and the bright lights momentarily blinded Micky. The room was no bigger than a small bedroom, and off to one side was a gurney with a white sheet spread across it. There appeared to be something underneath the sheet. Wirths playfully called “Claire? Claire?” Then she turned and looked at the gurney. “Oh, there you are.�
� She stepped to the gurney, and pulled off the sheet. It took Micky a few seconds to recognize what he was looking at. Her pink Irish complexion was blue-gray with open holes where her eyes had once been. Her chest and stomach cavity were open, emptied of all contents. Then Micky saw her hair. “Wha…? No! NO! CLAIRE! CLAIRE—” he screamed and turned to run. Aleksey grabbed him and held him tight. The surgeon rushed in from another room to witness a maniacally laughing Wirths. Over Micky’s screams, she instructed, “Sedate him and see if he is useful. If not, dispose of him.”
The surgeon nodded. “Yes, Countess.”
Chapter 54
Micky lay shackled to a small bed in a basement room, sedated and drifting in and out of consciousness. Wirths asked the surgeon, “So, does he haf any value?”
“Yes, he is healthy and his blood type is O+, the most common, so I’m sure there is a market for him.”
“Very vell, I vill make phone calls and see if I can find a buyer. Meanvhile you can prep him for surgery.”
“Yes, Countess.”
Wirths took the elevator to the secong floor and entered the recovery room where General Sir Nicholas Goodkind, chief of staff of the British Ministry of Defense, lay still recovering from a heart transplant. “Herr General, how do you feel?”
He looked up, still mildly sedated. The countess smiled at him without waiting for a response, “Excellent. I look forward to discussing the rest of our deal. You rest, General. Ve have a friend arriving soon.”
The team suited up in Poland and was about an hour away from Bratislava flying as fast as the S-92 could go. They had added Robert Bertand, a former officer in the French Foreign Legion. He was in charge of security at Bogus’ mansion in Opole, Opolski. Fenian was all business as she went over the aerial photos of the Wirths’ estate. Other than Fenian herself, it was agreed that Luther was the best sniper in the crew. She directed him to a tree line where he was to climb high enough to get a shot anywhere inside the rear yard. Bogus, Allister, Kratos and Robert would assault from the rear. Princeton would be behind Fenian, out of sight at the front. She took a pen and pointed to the back wall on the far right, “I want you to scale the wall here, behind this fountain and statues. They will be less likely to get a direct shot at you, as long as Luther can keep them pinned down.”