by Philip Bond
“Danka.” Timotheus heads into the entrance, producing an identification card from under his wet clothing.
Matt continues another hundred metres before stopping to rest; obviously, he’s going to be fitter at the end of this assignment.
*
“Allow him to lead, offer your thoughts, only allow him to compare to his experiences.” In offering her experience, Harry cautions… “This may take some time before he will allow an open Q&A.”
“We have two weeks. I’ll take it slowly.” Lifting himself from the bed… “Better get moving, it’s not raining, I’ll walk.”
“Love you, sergeant.”
“Love you, babe.”
*
The Journalist Emerges
Sitting outside Café Müller-Langhard, the afternoon is cool yet warming. Several couples fill all tables as the coffee arrives… “Bitte.”
Dressed in a dark grey suit with pastel tie, Timotheus is relaxed… “So, the journalist, are you?”
“Yes, recent career change.”
Adding three sugars… “From?”
Matt first sips his short black before… “Military.”
Timotheus’ turn to sample the coffee… “Stationed here in Germany?” As waiter hovers… “Bier und Pasta bitte.” Timotheus keeps it simple
“Die Suppe bitte.” The pasta is too much for Matt.
The day’s cool yet warming under the midday sun… “Once in the past, mostly in various places.”
The inquisition continues… “Why are you here now and not America?”
Both seem at ease with the other.
“To report world events, not be American-centric.”
“Americans are self-absorbed.” Timotheus voices his European prejudices… “Your media does not see beyond their shores.”
The surrounding tables begin filling as the offices empty for lunch… “The reason I chose to work here in Europe. However, there are similarities, such as the North-South divide.”
Two waiters return one with plates, the other Timotheus’s beer.
Tucking into the pasta… “Communism introduces this for Germany.” Timotheus continues… “Fifty years from 1945 we become two social systems; after reunification, remnants remain. White Sausage equator is this we call.”
Matt samples the soup… “Remnants remain in the US much longer, since 1865.”
It’s as if there’s a race as to who finishes first; Timotheus spins, loading his fork with pasta… “Yours is racial discrimination, ours is psychological ties to a political and economic system. This allows discrimination also.”
The soup’s hot… “Where do you sit in this?”
“Like you, definitely Southern.” Timotheus wins cleaning the remnants from his plate… “Colleagues above me are Northern.”
Spooning the soup… “You subjected to discrimination?”
“Of course. Not promoted to Berlin; instead, obscurity here in Bonn.”
“By one or many?”
Timotheus searches for a waiter… “One only.”
Matt’s only half way through the soup… “May I ask, who?”
A waiter appears. Timotheus instructs… “Petit Gâteau mit Doppel heißen Vanilleeis bitte.” Back to Matt… “Commissioner he is assisting the Immigration Minister, Dominik Beltz.”
Matt waves the waiter away; he’s still going on the soup… “Assisting the Immigration Minister; he’s in a position to influence decisions.”
Chancing his luck, Matt introduces names… “A colleague is followin’ people smugglin’, I hear names mentioned, Helmut Sperling is one.”
“Ja, know this name I do…”Emptying his beer Timotheus beckons a waiter for another… “Look into Dominik Beltz, issuing Carnet de Passages to all Bereit Air flights from Bucharest, Tirana and Sofia. Tie these to Carnet de Touriste documents for those aboard these aircraft and you have some proof; however, investigate further and you see many are granted visas also.” His beer arrives… “Study the link between Beltz and Sperling, you see the pattern. Look to Beltz investments soon after each Carnet and visa issue.” A largish mouthful empties half the glass… “These changes open doors for travel agencies granting visas. One particular benefits with many entries forced into prostitution.”
It’s like winning a lotto, Matt masks jubilation as the last of the soup goes… “Timotheus, would you allow me to pursue this with him without accreditation of any kind?”
In satisfying his revenge… “In Berlin is he and da, niederes Milieu is he.” Of course, he agrees… “Return now to my work.” Timotheus stands, offers his hand in departing, leaving Matt to pay the bill.
*
“A request from CNN,” the aide is nonchalant… “An interview they want.”
He’s not had an interview request since his university wanted to update class whereabouts… “Why, do they tell?”
“Nein.” The aid remains nonchalant
Puzzled, Dominik looks up from his paper… “Who does this?”
“Matt Leveaux.”
Oh well, why not… “French journalist, okay then, schedule this after breakfast. Book a room, make it thirty minutes, no longer.”
The aid notes the activity and time… “Ich werde.”
*
Putting documents on the table, Brigit adds… “I work in background for you. I sponsor private investigators studying Dresden property purchases.” Pleased with the results, exuberance bubbles… “Beltz visits, eleven times these past three years, Hirsch Jagdschloss is his contact address, owned by Helmut Sperling.”
Harry and Matt exchange looks of amazement… “These guys must believe they’re untouchable.” Matt exclaims… “We’re locked and loaded.” Brimming with confidence, adds… “Tomorrow will be interestin’, thanks Brigit.”
“No thank you necessary,” then gripped by unusual modesty changes language… “Holen Sie sich diese Fotze!”
“You now plan this interview.” With that, Brigit leaves.
Harry and Matt return to the document.
*
The door opens, Dominik steps into the conference room looking somewhat surprised.
Standing to produce his hand… “Good morning, Herr Beltz,” Matt announces… “Thank you for agreein’ to this interview.”
Expecting to see a French Caucasian and momentarily hesitating before… “It comes to me. Recall I do, you are party to ambush colleagues Schmitt and Meyer. Unforgivable is this.” He doesn’t sit, instead gestures his aide to open the door… “You do not do this with me,” and turns towards the door.
“Before you leave, Herr Beltz,” anticipating this possibility, Matt moves to limit door space… “Tell me about Bereit Flugreisen issuing Carnet de Touriste documents to minors from Montenegro, Kosovo, Macedonia, Romania, Bulgaria and Ukraine?”
“I know nothing of this, no more time for you.” Dominik attempts manoeuvring exit room.
Matt stands his ground yet leaving little wriggle room… “Yet Herr Beltz, we have evidence of substantial property purchases soon after regular visits to Dresden. What can you tell me about these?”
“Nothing other than, good with investments. Now,” he attempts squeezing by… “I leave Guten Tag Ihnen.”
Keen to not block while using his frame to limit passage, Matt fires a broadside… “Do you think Herr Beltz, with this evidence Bundeszentralamt für Steuern might look closer at your investments compared to income?”
Confronted, Dominik retaliates… “Do not threaten me, journalist. I have means to hurt you.”
“A threat, Herr Beltz?” Matt expression is intimidating.
“Nein,” he remains steadfast… “Das ist ein Versprechen!” Forcing space through the doorway.
Eye to eye, albeit with a height advantage, Matt lobs a salvo… “Herr Beltz, there is conclusive evidence.”
“Evidence,” effective, Dominik hesitates… “What is this evidence?”
Matt reveals the smoking gun… “Copies of vendor’s bills of sale, s
howing payment by bank transfer.”
His facial expression alters… “Not so unusual is this.”
“Agreed, however, one this one,” Matt produces a document… “Is short 200,000DM with the difference paid by a company associated with Bereit Flugreisen.”
“Is loan,” caught out, he panics… “Nothing more.”
“Herr Beltz,” Matt fires for effect… “Do you know or have you met Helmut Sperling?”
“Meet many people I do; this name is not familiar to me.” He steps through the door… “Now, I leave.”
“Unusual,” the reveal… “Given your visits to Hirsch Jagdschloss is owned by him.”
“Visit many places I do,” attempted deflection… “This is not unusual.”
The slam dunk… “There’s evidence he also is there each occasion you visit.”
“This ends now.” He exits, his aide closes the door behind.
*
“I know this name,” Brigit jumps on seeing… “Is Liechtenstein bank!” adding excitedly… “This also, Albanian Mafia.”
Harry points… “There are authorisations for each transfer from Abwechslungsreiche Investitionen.” Questioning Brigit… “Do you know this company?”
Jumping onto her computer; after a minute or so… “Ya, investigation some time back shows this controlled by associate to Helmut Sperling,” excitedly she allows… “On my radar for some time is Sperling. Now it comes together.” To Matt… “Liechtenstein banks use high-level encryption; how do you get this information?”
“From someone who also want this man brought to justice.” He’s unusually circumspect.
She fishes for detail… “Sperling is better protected than United States’ President, so too his business dealing. You have unusual help with this, the American National Security Agency?”
“No,” Matt’s unwilling divulging… “Most probably their greatest adversary, the FSB.”
“Russian?”
“Yes,” relenting… “With Grigori Vinokurov’s assistance.”
Recognising a valuable information source, she pushes… “Useful he is; can we again for other things?”
He offers just enough but no more… “Won’t push my luck; we met in Kosovo, events there didn’t go well for him. Best be thankful for what we have.”
“Then you both prepare report; I place this immediately you finish ya.”
First looking to Harry, he finishes with… “Done.”
*
The Report
It’s his time to shine. Days and hours of research, interviews and substantiation arrive at these following studio minutes live to camera. He’s pumped, not so intimidated, yet conscious of what he is about to do.
The countdown hits two, one… “Tonight,” Matt’s name appears closed caption on screen… “we reveal a disturbing and sickening story of abuse to our most precious commodity, our children. This man, Helmut Sperling,” a profile photo, albeit fuzzy, appears closed caption on screen… “funds kidnap, smuggling and exploitation of children as young as ten from the Balkan countries aided by Albanian criminals.” The autocue rolls; Matt maintains a serious yet forceful delivery barrelling down the camera lens… “I’ve been to Kosovo,” the director keys file footage in background caption… “I’ve witnessed first-hand the selective savagery of these criminals in stealing the youth, transporting them here into Germany to populate brothels. They are children who should be with their parents, in school, learning about the richness of life, not slaved to a bed servicing sexual appetite of the depraved.” Harry stands behind, away from the flooding studio lights proudly watching her man’s journalistic life chapter… “I lead with the person central to this; again, his name is Helmut Sperling, remember that; he owns or controls shipping and airfreight, travel insurance and investment companies.” Remaining steadfast, barrelling down the camera lens… “I agree, it’s not appropriate to name an individual without substantiation. I have it.” Again, the closed caption changes… “Albanian criminals, mafia if you like, are the muscle who enter villages in Albania, Macedonia, Bulgaria and Romania, selectively detain then kidnap not only girls, boys too,” the pre-emptive close up keys… “The sexual appetite for some has no limits.” Images of men leaving brothels, run in closed caption… “Even those elected to the Deutscher Bundestag.” Again, file footage is run in closed caption… “I’ve heard first-hand accounts for witnesses, as young as eleven, once arriving in Germany learning their debt doubles. Their availability to ‘service’ clients begins late morning into early morning the following day. Let’s return to the conductor of this sordid tragedy.” The director repeats the opening image in closed caption… “This man, Helmut Sperling, profits from the exploitation of young women and children. Bring him to justice you say; unfortunately, the Staatsanwaltschaf cannot. He recently flees to Israel, under Mossad protection immune to extradition. To them, he has uses, and they turn a blind eye to his horrific exploitations.” The director cues closed caption image changes showing copies of documents… “In our investigations, we discover documents transferring money from companies controlled by Helmut Sperling to the Albania mafia, proof enough to arrest this man and possibly convict. Again, he is a protected species living in immunity in Israel.” The director cues and Matt turns for a final close-up… “We can only hope the Israeli government sees no further use for this man, returning him to Germany to face justice.” Turning back to the main camera, he finishes… “Matt Leveaux reporting for CNN.”
Studio lights go dark, Matt sits back in his chair… “Wow, what a buzz!”
Harry hurries across the floor… “That’s powerful, honey! Perfect delivery, terrific emphasis and your screen presence is commanding.”
Brigit too… “A long on-screen future have you, Matt Leveque.” She leads the applause in the studio as Matt stands, somewhat overawed by the accolade. Brigit’s elated, looking into his eyes… “You do excellent work.”
Looking to Harry… “Due to my instructor.”
“Of course.” The silent sigh is felt if not heard.
Pausing… “There is another assignment I have for you.” She opens another dossier… “Liechtenstein, banking there is secret. It seems some German politicians are secreting wealth away from public view. I want you to investigate.”
“Thank you Birgit,” linking her arm into his… “Let me get back to you on that.” She pulls Matt close… “I want time alone with my man.”
Birgit looks to Matt… “But of course. You can have him for a week only. There will be much coming from your report. I expect a stormy time in the Bundestag.”
Matt pulls his arm free to place it around Harry, pulling her tight into him… “Let’s go see some of Germany.”
Harry ignores everyone on the flood instead looking into Matt eyes… “What do you have in mind, sergeant?”
“The Rheinland, maybe Köln.”
“Sounds great. Let’s go.”
Grabbing Harry’s hand… “Let’s get outta here babe and eat.”
*
It’s Not Business Harry, It’s Personal
They stand in the nave of the classic gothic Köln Cathedral… “Matt,” Harry’s moved… “Standing here now, I realise how much I love you and yes I want to marry you, today now if possible.”
“Babe, we’re standin’ in a church with,” he looks around… “A coupla hundred people.” He looks back to Harry before again looking around at the surrounding crowd… “Is there anyone present,” his voice booms… “who knows any reason why I should not marry this woman, let them speak now or forever remain silent.” His authoritative voice reaches to the corners of the massive cathedral stopping worshipers and tourists alike. Faces turn to look at Harry and Matt. A man standing a little away begins clapping, then another and another until applause echoes throughout the centuries old house of worship and into the surrounding plaza. Matt looks into Harry’s eyes… “I, Matt Leveaux, take you, Harrietta Reisner, to be my wife for richer for poorer, in sickness an
d in health, until death do us apart.”
Ignoring the growing audience, Harry recites… “I, Harrietta Reisner, take you, Matt Leveaux, to be my lawfully wedded husband, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death I thee part.”
A woman standing close by follows… “Ich erkläre Ihnen beiden Mann und Frau. Sie dürfen die Braut küssen.”
Their heads close together, their lips meet. They kiss to a tumultuous applause and engulfed by well-wishers. Many in the plaza outside push into the already crowded cathedral, causing a crush at the door and consternation to church officials.
It takes some time for normality to return to the staid and revered cathedral by which time, Harry and Matt are arm in arm walking across the Hohenzollernbrücke astride the Rhein. ICE trains provide the soundtrack, rumbling into and out of Köln Hauptbahnhof. The river is a mirror to the light of the city. The lovers are oblivious to others walking, riding bicycles or rollerblading the pedestrian walkway. No words are spoken. There is no need; being together is enough. Both are content with the company of the other. Barges labour against the Rhine’s current, determined to reach their upstream port. Harry and Matt walk slowly instep towards the eastern embankment; slight rain raises hidden umbrellas and causes some walkers to run. Neither lover could care less; love masks everything.
“How sad.” Both start from the voice behind… “Neither of you will get to complete your nuptials for real.” Their heads begin turning… “DO NOT look around. Keep walking towards Köln Messe-Deutz.” Both know the voice; it’s Sanders… “Harry, you have become such a pain, one that I cannot allow to trouble me anymore.” Matt’s experience suggests he’s less than two metres away… “Don’t even think about any heroics Marine, I’ve a UMP45 and you would know just how quickly I can empty the twenty-five-round magazine into your bodies.”
Harry remains defiant… “What do you want, Sanders?”
“For the both of you to keep walking across the bridge towards the station.” Trains continue passing both ways as they step off the bridge onto the walkway towards the station… “You know Harry, we missed you three times in Australia, you have to know that was just business. Now, however, it’s personal.” As they move along the pathway pedestrian traffic thins dramatically, Matt can feel Sanders lifting to aim the weapon. Two women and a man obviously drunk, round the pathway into view of the protagonist and his hapless prey… “Again, marine, no heroics. I can kill you two plus these drunks before you turn.” The drunken trio are singing a Bayer Leverkusen football song… “Stop here,” Sanders is cautious… “Wait until they pass.”