by Simon Harrak
“Ms. Tuttman, The League has co-existed with your respective governments for almost three decades because we know our mission. We police inequality, and we do so because you cannot, or rather, will not. We are the only line of defence against greed and corruption. Policing your criminals was never our job. As a result, many have slipped through our net. This was a critical mistake, but be assured we will correct it. In the meantime, global stability is at stake. The files, by midnight. Otherwise I will count you as an enemy and will act accordingly. None of your people will be safe.”
“Fine,” said Tuttman.
Burley bit on his lower lip and looked down at the table.
“Mr. Burley,” said Kalakia with a firm voice.
“We’ll get you what you need,” said Burley.
“Good. Then that will be all. Unless you have further questions?”
Nobody spoke.
“Time is ticking. Francois will show you out.”
Francois signalled the way to the door with an open palm, and after a short hesitation, the pair stood and allowed him to usher them out.
A short time later Francois was at Kalakia’s side, while Kalakia remained occupied with the view of the Dubai skyline, which was sweltering under the afternoon sun. Francois remained patiently waiting with his hands clasped behind his back.
“It’s time,” said Kalakia after some time. “Convene a council of war.”
“When?”
“In two days. At the fortress.”
Francois prepared to walk away.
“Wait,” said Kalakia, still looking out of the window. “What of the bomber?”
“He’s still hiding in Poland. Scheffler gave the job to Frederich.”
Kalakia hesitated for a moment, gripped by a sudden tension in his chest. Then he nodded, and Francois’ footsteps disappeared out of the room. Kalakia considered this latest development. He understood Scheffler’s reasoning. The question was: would Frederich be able to cope with the war-time pressure? Perhaps it would be best to test him further in the field with a low-stakes assignment. Then Kalakia thought better of it. For what he had in mind, Frederich was exactly what was needed. In the worst case, Frederich would snap and unleash hell. Kalakia had no objections to that, not after what Stirner had done in Berlin. An unhinged Frederich fit perfectly into Kalakia’s plan. It would remind Stirner and anyone who supported him of the consequences of threatening The League.
For a time Kalakia descended further into the dark, twisted areas of his mind, imagining the brutal ways he could humiliate and punish Stirner. Finally, he went into his study with the sudden urge to refresh his reading on Otto von Bismarck.
6
Not again, thought Ida, her face and body growing hot and sticky. She was back in the vacuum with the screaming voices. Her eyes darted all around, desperate for a way to escape. There was too much to absorb. The wails from the people kept coming, begging for an end to the agony. She could hear them inside her head. There was nowhere to hide, nothing to shield her. She remembered how holding Frederich’s hand had helped her, steadied her, kept her from being devoured by terror.
A warm hand touched her neck and drew her out of her torment. She welcomed it, and focussed on how it felt; gentle, firm, reassuring. The vacuum began dissolving, giving way to the murmurs of the flea market crowd. The sunshine on her arm was next to break into her consciousness. Meanwhile, her breathing grew fuller and penetrated deeper.
“You alright?” said Chi, removing her hand from Ida’s neck and rubbing her shoulder.
Ida blinked multiple times and forced a smile.
“Yes, I..”
“You were thinking about the explosion?”
Ida nodded.
“It’s ok. Look,” said Chi, opening the metallic money box stuffed with notes. “We’re getting paid. The Virgin Queen Collection is taking off.”
Ida looked blankly at the container, wondering how money would make it ‘ok.’
“Stay with me today,” said Chi. “Our lovely customers need you.”
“Of course,” said Ida, now slightly more convinced. “We can’t let the customers down.”
“That’s right.”
Ida reached over the table and began tidying up the pieces of clothing that had been shuffled around by curious hands. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the people at the Bergmannstrasse Flea Market in Kreuzberg were shoulder to shoulder. The odd person sauntered by, giving the clothes a sceptical stare before moving along. The stall to Ida’s left was offering a mishmash of household antiques, including spoons, knives and decorative plates. There was also a collection of 19th-century-style wooden globes, which made Ida think back on her journey across the world to Berlin. The sun, the crowd, the turmoil inside her, it was still hard to believe how far she had come in a year, let alone what she had overcome.
“Ida, look!”
Chi was pointing toward a particular young girl in the crowd with long flowing black hair. She was wearing the cream overalls which Ida had designed. Ida gasped in delight.
“Oh, wow,” she whispered to herself.
The girl noticed Ida and Chi looking at her and she waved, pointing proudly toward her overalls and tensing her bicep before proceeding to do a brief jig. Chi and Ida burst out laughing and waved back, and the girl rejoined her friends and disappeared into the crowd.
“I knew those would be popular,” said Chi.
Ida remained smiling until her cheeks grew sore. Suddenly she remembered the people at the scene of the explosion, and an intense wave of guilt washed over her. The smile disappeared, and she grew serious again.
“Chrissi just messaged,” said Chi, looking at her smartphone. “She said they’ll be here a bit later, just as soon as Daria wakes up. Who knows what time they got home last night.”
“Probably late,” said Ida. “They never leave a party before 8:00 am.”
The song lyrics suddenly played back in her head in German: ‘You’re crazy my child, you must go to Berlin.’
“We need to pack soon, maybe tell them to meet us at your place instead?” said Ida, thinking ahead.
“We’ll work it out when Sleeping Beauty wakes up,” said Chi, looking up from her phone as a shadow appeared over the table.
An olive-skinned woman in her thirties had approached and was browsing through the freshly folded pieces of clothing. She had an intimidating face, along with exceptional posture and straight, shiny-black, shoulder-length hair. With her gaze narrowed and her red lipstick-covered lips pressed together, she searched sceptically through the pieces on the table. Her outfit was immaculate; including a white silk shirt, black satin blazer and pants, and black stilettos. She was not from Berlin, Ida decided. Probably on a business trip and curious about the ‘alternative’ side of the city. The woman held up one of Ida’s earliest designs for inspection; the white shirt inspired by Elizabeth I.
“These are.. interesting,” said the woman, hesitating for a moment. “Not boring, to say the least.”
“Boring isn’t inspiring,” said Ida.
The woman shot Ida a sharp glance, then looked again at the shirt, staring earnestly at the broad frilly arms and decorated collar.
“Can I try it on?”
“We don’t have anywhere to change here, but you can bring it back if it doesn’t fit. We come every week.”
“Yes, friends of mine have bought your clothes,” said the woman. “They were talking about you yesterday over dinner. One of them suggested I drop by and take a look.”
“I hope they were happy with everything,” said Ida.
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise, would I?” said the woman.
“You’re a small, right?” Chi chimed in.
“Usually, yes,” said the woman. “You never know with these brands. They fake sizes all the time, trying to fool you into thinking you’re skinner than you are. ”
“Show me,” said Chi, taking the shirt and holding it up in front of her. “Yep, that’ll fit. But as Ida said
, you can bring it back if you’re not happy.”
“Ok, fine. I’ll take it.”
The woman made her purchase, putting the shirt into her handbag.
“Thank you, ladies,” she said. “And thank you, Ida,” she added, looking deeply into Ida’s eyes.
Ida blushed and smiled back before the woman turned and marched away, the heels of her stilettos clacking loudly over the concrete.
The woman’s intoxicating presence lingered for a while, and Ida could not help but be reminded of María Félix, penetrating the environment with her sexuality and beauty. A person later approached and browsed for a long time before they smiled politely and left. Ida then turned and noticed Chi frowning and looking into the distance.
“What is it?” said Ida.
“Creep alert,” said Chi.
The words sucked the wind out of Ida. Vidrik. She backed away and took shelter behind Chi, not daring to look. Somehow she managed to turn her eyes in the direction Chi was staring. When she saw him, she grew giddy with relief. Frederich was standing against the wall of the pharmacy with one leg crossed over the other while looking directly at Ida and Chi.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Ida.
“What, you know that guy?”
“Yes. I’ll explain later.”
Ida handed the money box over to Chi and walked out from behind the stall and weaved her way through the crowd.
“Hi,” said Frederich with a shy grin when she approached.
“Hey,” said Ida, stepping forward and giving him a hug.
“Sorry for just showing up like this. You told me you were here on Sundays.”
“No,” said Ida, shaking her head. “It’s fine. We didn’t get a chance to talk after…”
“Yeah,” said Frederich as Ida trailed off. “How are you?”
“I don’t know,” said Ida with a shrug. “I’m still dealing with it, I think. How about you?”
“I’m fine,” said Frederich calmly, looking briefly into the distance.
“That’s good.”
“I just came to see you because I have to go away for a few days, maybe more.”
“Ok,” said Ida, trying to conceal her suspicious thoughts. Where are you going, Frederich?
“We also didn’t get a chance to finish the Vidrik conversation.”
“Was there anything more to say?” said Ida.
Frederich reached into his pocket and took out a folded piece of paper.
“As far as we know, Vidrik’s not in the country, and he’ll have to think twice before coming back to Berlin.” Frederich held out the piece of paper. “But just in case, here’s a number you can call if anything happens while I’m gone. If you feel someone following you, or anything out of the ordinary, you can call in.”
Ida took the piece of paper and opened it.
“Codeword: Abel? Whose number is this?”
“It’s League Intel. They can send someone if you ask.”
Ida studied the piece of paper for a long time.
“I don’t know about this,” she said, holding the paper at a distance and leaning back as though it were infected with something.
“Ida, take it. Kalakia promised you’d be safe, so this has to be his way to keep that promise.”
Ida sighed and lowered her hand.
“If it were up to me, you would go back home until we found him,” said Frederich.
“I’m not going to do that.”
“I know.”
Ida sighed again, then nodded.
“Ok. I’ll call if I need it.”
“Thanks,” said Frederich. “That makes me feel better.”
“Should I ask where you’re going?” said Ida.
Frederich gave a slight squint, appearing hesitant.
“It depends. You wanted me to be honest with you. But you also don’t want anything to do with my work.”
“That’s right. Does it have something to do with the bombing?”
“Yes,” said Frederich.
Ida shuddered.
“You know who did it,” she said flatly.
“Yes.”
Ida now sensed herself treading into darker territory. Reading Frederich’s voice and expression, she knew he would be going to kill the person responsible. How did she feel about that? Did she want that person dead? Yes, she did. Of course, she did. They deserved to die. No! How could she think that? Her cheeks burnt up, and she felt unsteady on her feet.
“I don’t want to know anymore,” she said, holding her palm up.
“Sure,” said Frederich. “It’s going to be fine, ok?”
“I need to get back to the stall.”
“Ok. See you when I get back?” asked Frederich, leaning his head expectantly.
“I.. I need to get back. Bye, Frederich.”
She turned around, nearly bumping into a man behind her who stopped walking abruptly and gave her an annoyed stare. She went around him and marched back toward Chi.
“Ok, I have questions,” said Chi. “Because that guy is cute. Creepy, but cute.”
Once Ida was back on the other side of the table, the hot flush in her face subsided as though she were out of the danger zone. She looked across toward the pharmacy, but Frederich was already gone.
“Ida, spill it. Who is he?”
“What?” said Ida, still distracted.
“I said who’s the guy?”
“He’s a friend.”
“And?”
“And we need to start packing.”
“Ugh! You’re impossible,” said Chi, slapping Ida’s shoulder softly. “Sometimes I think you’re the Virgin Queen.”
Chi walked around Ida and began taking the clothes off the table and placing them in their boxes. Ida went over next to her and started helping, trying to push the idea of Frederich committing murder out of her mind. Her body felt cold now, as she recalled the look in Frederich’s eyes while she questioned him. He was so calm that it spooked her. She hated that side of him, loathed being around it. It got under her skin, seeped inside her like thick black smoke which blurred her thoughts. As long as Vidrik was lurking out there, she had no choice but to tolerate it. After the danger passed, she would have to seriously rethink having Frederich in her life. See you when I get back, he had said. As though they were friends or something! Like he was going on a short trip to visit family. Damn him and his stupid, violent friends, she thought. Vidrik too, and his sick, twisted mind. Innocent people had died because of The League Of Reckoning, and now Frederich thought he could solve everything by adding to the death toll.
Ida was barely breathing now, and was stuffing the clothes into the boxes with too much force. She slammed the box shut, fighting with the flaps, then picked it up and thrust it onto the pile with a thump, causing Chi to give her a long, questioning stare. Ida giggled suddenly. It felt good to be angry, to let off some steam. If Vidrik showed up, she would let him have some of it.
Maybe violence was the answer, she thought. Well, sometimes, anyway. It had to have been put there for a reason in any case.
7
Somewhere behind that arched, stained antique door was Havel Drexler; the terrorist behind the Berlin Bombing.
Frederich stood in the middle of the quaint, cobbled street in the old town of Poznan while a stream of pedestrians casually worked their way around him. He was expecting a bright idea to come, a way to flush Drexler out or to get him into a position to make the kill. It was a chilly, overcast day, and Frederich zipped up his thick, black parka jacket. Tucked inside were his pistol and hunting knife, as well as two tear gas grenades. He lingered for a while, then figured there were better places to wait for inspiration to hit. Standing there was inviting Drexler to spot him out. The solution would come to him soon enough. It always did.
He went over to a cafe forty feet away across the street. While waiting for his espresso, he checked his smartphone for updates from Intel. There was nothing. Instead, he started flicking through Drexler’s photos. The
headshot showed a man with unsympathetic eyes, flushed skin and puffy cheeks. Another snap had a younger, fitter Drexler in military uniform standing in a dusty, African town with a Heckler & Koch held across his torso and the same grim stare. Whichever way Frederich decided to proceed, he could expect to meet someone with ample experience in weaponry and explosives, as well as the readiness to use them at any moment day or night.
The espresso came, and Frederich took a sip while turning his attention to the apartment block. It was a two-storey building, so he was not surprised at the lack of movement coming in or out. He settled in for the afternoon, eventually ordering another espresso, and remained watching the street. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred, except when a blonde woman left the building and came back with two young boys below the age of ten. She tussled with her keys as the boys chased each other in circles before they all went inside. Maybe it was the caffeine, or perhaps the pent up agitation from the bombing, but eventually Frederich felt the urge to act. Kraas’ voice of reason popped into his head: It’s too risky to go inside. Wait. The opening will come. Frederich dismissed the idea. Enough was enough. It was time to take a closer look.
‘David Anders’ paid with his credit card then left the cafe. He stood some distance from the front door and tried to look uninterested, stealing the occasional glance of the building. 3:45 pm. The workday was finishing, meaning somebody would have to come in or out. The door remained shut for some time further. Finally, a tall, dark-haired woman with a light grey trench coat and high heels shoes slowed down in front of the door while searching inside her hand-bag. Frederich braced himself, taking a step in her direction, before the woman took out her lighter and lit a cigarette. Frederich relaxed again, somewhat disappointed, then the door suddenly swung open from the inside, giving him a jolt. He scrambled forward and caught the door at the same time a man with dark cornrows and tattoo-covered neck stormed out. The man slowed down when he noticed Frederich, and the two of them locked eyes. The chances of the man being with Drexler were high, but Frederich had to be careful not to give himself away. He smiled at the man with a nod and continued inside. He immediately reached into the seam of his jacket and grasped his pistol as the door slammed shut behind him. He took the safety off. Each second felt like five, and his ears remained trained at the door. The occasional playful yell or laugh came from outside along with the sound of people shuffling by. The door remained shut, and as more time passed, the sense of danger gradually died away. Frederich flicked the safety back on. His breathing returned to normal. He knew he would look harmless enough to the man. With such a small building he would have at least roused the man’s suspicion, so better to be cautious than dead. He turned his attention back to the task of finding Drexler.