12 Drummers Drumming

by Diana Deverell

  Five minutes later, he arrived. Erika and van Hoof followed him, three sets of boot heels slapping decisively across the concrete floor. Holger took the chair facing Bert and me. Erika and van Hoof sat on either side of him. My muscles tensed, the arrangement into opposing camps too obvious. Holger shook hands with Bert. To me, he said, “Hellig tre Konger.”

  Three Holy Kings. I heard the mournful minor notes of the English carol: “We three kings of Orient are . . .” The three Wise Men paying homage to the infant Christ. The Epiphany. Krüger had used the word. Oddly out of place, but I hadn’t paid attention then, I’d been so focused on other problems. But now, as part of the religious calendar, I got the connection. I said, “January sixth. Wednesday is January sixth. Wednesday is Krüger’s epiphany.”

  Holger said, “Epiphany, yes. Gorm made the association. Something terrible will happen on Wednesday.”

  “Casey reached the same conclusion,” Erika said. “Most likely another airplane bombing.”

  “Gorm suspects it will be a much bigger disaster,” Holger said.

  “He’s upped the ante,” I said slowly.

  Holger said, “He is holding the information closely. Gorm cannot extract more without risking exposure. We must get the details from Krüger.”

  “You know where he’s hiding?” Bert asked.

  “Not precisely,” Holger said. “We will have to draw him out.” He stopped there, his gaze resting on me.

  “And you want to use me as the lure.” I shoved myself to my feet. “I proposed the best deal I could put together. Krüger rejected it. What else could I possibly offer him?”

  Holger leaned back in his chair so he could see my face. “This time, Krüger claims he has something to offer you.”

  “Something for me? What are you talking about?”

  Erika drew in her breath, a gasp of sudden understanding.

  And then I got it, too. “Stefan,” I said to Erika. “He’s not in Limburg, is he?”

  “No,” she said. “Danièle and Hilly-Anne took him there Friday. He was alone in the safe house when they left Saturday morning. Sunday, yesterday, they stopped by on their way here. He was gone.”

  “Do you think Krüger’s people—?” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “No sign of violence,” she said. “It looked as though Stefan waited until the women departed on Saturday. Then he left the house.”

  I rubbed my forehead, let my hand slide down to cover my eyes. Stefan hadn’t run away. He wasn’t a man who ran from trouble. Of course Stefan had come to Germany. “Krüger has him.”

  “So he claims,” Holger said.

  “But how did Krüger find him so easily?” I asked.

  “I think it more likely that Stefan found him,” Holger replied. “That cabin where you met Krüger? Stefan once told me that he and his father made a secret visit to such a place years ago. A clandestine retreat for Krüger’s mother. One that afforded maximum privacy. That cabin would be the first place Stefan would look for Krüger.”

  “You think Stefan was trying to get there before me?” I asked.

  Holger said, “We all know he did not want you to come into contact with his brother.”

  “But how could he prevent that? At best, he’d have arrived only hours before me. To stop us from meeting, he’d have had to kill Krüger. And he couldn’t do that—”

  “Or Krüger’s associates would have eliminated your father.” Holger shook his head. “For that reason, I’m certain Stefan didn’t intend to execute Krüger. I think he hoped to negotiate.”

  “Offer himself in place of my father.” I had difficulty saying the words.

  “He knew Krüger would give anything—even his American future—to capture him,” Erika said. “And if Krüger brings Stefan along, Tripoli becomes a more dependable refuge. When he turns his half brother over to Libyan intelligence, he’ll prove where his loyalty lies.”

  “Exactly,” van Hoof agreed. “He’s got Stefan and he’s taking him to the Libyans.”

  “That’s insane,” I said. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

  Erika covered my hand with hers and tilted her head to look up at me. Compassion darkened her indigo eyes. “Stefan made the best move he could to force a change of plans.”

  “Krüger abandoned his scheme to go to the U.S.,” van Hoof said. “And he released your father. That created a new opportunity for us.”

  “But we can’t allow Krüger to give Stefan to the Libyans.” And then I realized what my words implied. I glared at Holger. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s what your famous loyalty to your agents comes down to. To save Stefan, you’ll let Krüger have me.”

  “No . . .” Erika’s shocked tones were drowned out by Bert.

  “That son-of-a-whore,” he said. “What he’d do to her—”

  Holger interrupted. “An exchange of Kathryn for Stefan is not something I would consider.” His eyes held mine. “You know that.”

  No, he wouldn’t trade me away. But Krüger was the one forcing this meeting. He’d asked for me—no one else. My fate was sure to be at the top of his agenda. I had to make them understand that.

  But van Hoof spoke before I could. “We won’t allow the man to touch you.” He unfolded a map and smoothed it flat on the tabletop. “You were at Potsdam,” he said to me. “Where did you actually meet Krüger?”

  I traced my route to Krüger’s cabin on the Spree.

  “I know this area northeast of Dresden well,” van Hoof said, his finger replacing mine on the map. He spoke to Holger. “If you can persuade Krüger to meet her down here”—his finger slid toward Dresden—“we can snatch the bastard before he does her any harm.”

  I put my palms on the table and leaned toward Holger. “Here we are,” I said. “Right where you wanted us.”

  I moved my gaze to van Hoof, then to Erika, before I turned to take in Bert. “He’s got an undercover man who travels in the same circles as Krüger. Gorm could try harder to find out what plane Krüger’s going to blow up next. But he won’t risk blowing Gorm’s cover. Please, Holger, explain: Why is it you prefer to risk all of us?”

  “I have to trust my agent’s judgment,” Holger said. “Gorm insists he cannot learn more about the bomb. He says that Krüger holds that information too closely. Therefore, a second attempt to entrap him is the only workable option. We have fewer than forty-eight hours left. Krüger’s willing to expose himself in order to meet with you. We must exploit that opportunity.”

  The situation was eerily familiar. Four days ago in an Antwerp cathedral, Stefan had tried to stop me from meeting with Krüger. I’d pushed his objections aside. I’d been ignorant then of Krüger’s hatred of his half brother. Unaware that he’d probed my life for any point of weakness he could exploit. Four days ago, I hadn’t known my enemy. “We have to rescue Stefan first,” I said. “Where is Krüger holding him?”

  “Gorm has identified three probable locations,” Holger said. “I’ve got people working on it, but we will not pinpoint the exact spot in time.”

  “But I’m vulnerable while he’s got Stefan,” I said. “If he were to bring him to the meet—”

  “We can rule out that contingency,” Holger cut in. “Krüger will expect you to have backup. He won’t take a chance on losing his only bargaining chip. He’s got Stefan safely stowed away and he’ll leave him there until the deal is arranged.”

  “Stefan first,” I said again, the two words crushed into one by my urgent need to make Holger understand.

  “Not enough time to locate the prisoner, let alone set up the operation.” Bert shook his head, his voice thick with regret. “Can’t rescue somebody, you don’t know where he is.”

  I said to Holger, “You can access satellite photos of those locations. With intensive analysis, we can find him—”

  “Can you not recognize the flaw in your logic?” Holger’s voice was pitched low and it rolled across my passion with the force of an icy wave from the Baltic Sea. “If
we could rescue Stefan, what would be the point? There would no longer be a basis for credible negotiations. Krüger would not show up at the meet. At this juncture we cannot help Stefan. Later, yes. But now we must focus on capturing Krüger.”

  A scream was in me, trying to get out. Krüger had used my father against me. Now he was holding Stefan’s life in his hands. I was helpless in the face of that threat. Yet Holger wanted to send me to him again. I managed to say, “No. Not Krüger. Stefan is—”

  “I have suffered.” Van Hoof’s voice slashed through mine, brutal as a bullwhip. “In this struggle, I have lost a child. A wife. I don’t want to lose yet another comrade. But we have no time to waste flailing against reality. Accept that discipline, as I have.”

  My face was hot and I knew I had to choose my words carefully. Yes, he’d suffered. Erika, too. But their loved ones had been killed by faceless terrorists blasting into anonymous crowds. Stefan had been singled out by one man who wanted to hurt him badly. Krüger had spent months—perhaps years— figuring out how to inflict the most damage on Stefan—and on me. Finally, I said, “Sending me to that meeting is the same as giving me to Krüger.”

  “Enough!” van Hoof said. “If Holger tells us he has no better way to get the information, we must accept that. He’s not ‘giving you’ to Krüger. Your role is to draw the man out of hiding. If you do your part, we have some hope of preventing a great loss of life. Are you so frightened you can’t do that much? So selfish you care only about your own safety?”

  “I care about the safety of everyone.” I spoke with difficulty through the rage tightening my throat. “If you’ve miscalculated, this operation won’t save people. And Krüger will have me. I can’t risk that. My father needs me too much.”

  “And all the other fathers who will be on those planes?” Van Hoof’s tone was murderous. “They don’t matter to their daughters?”

  The cruelty of his words robbed me of any response.

  Metal shrieked as Bert shifted in his seat. His back to me, he turned off the hot plate. When he settled down again, he’d moved his chair an inch closer to van Hoof. Of course. He was looking after his own. I’d lost Bert.

  Didn’t anyone realize what this so-called negotiation came down to? Krüger was offering me Stefan—but what did he want in return? “Erika . . .” I began.

  When she raised her chin and looked at me full on with those bottomless eyes, I saw only pity there. She said, “We must follow Holger’s lead in this. Only he has a complete picture of what is going on.”

  “Don’t you see what you’re asking me to do?”

  “Try to look at the situation objectively,” Holger said. “We know Stefan’s value to Krüger. He would exchange Stefan only for something of greater long-term use to him in his relationship with Qadhafi.”

  “Me,” I said.

  “You, yes,” Holger agreed quickly, “but not as a prisoner. Stefan is a far better choice for show trial and execution. No, you are more valuable to Krüger as a pawn.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He waved his hand impatiently. “I could list a half-dozen problems you could solve for Qadhafi if Krüger could convince you to exploit your knowledge and connections on behalf of Libya.”

  “Convince her?” Erika echoed. “But after he released Stefan, how could he maintain a hold over Casey?”

  Holger said, “I’m sure Krüger does not view that as a problem.”

  His voice was cold, the sound so chilling that I felt a lump like ice forming in my midsection. Holger was right. I had no doubt that Krüger saw a way to control me for the rest of my life. “That’s what I’m trying to get you guys to see—”

  Holger cut me off. “You fear him, we all understand that. But we have no more time for debate. We must proceed with the plan to draw Krüger toward Dresden. You may participate or not, as you choose. But for the rest of us, there is no choice.” He turned to van Hoof. “Agreed?”

  “Absolutely,” said van Hoof.

  Erika didn’t look at me when she nodded.

  My chair was noiseless as I moved it back into place at the table. I centered it carefully between the table legs. I kept my body rigid, my footsteps silent, as I stepped toward the doorway to my father’s cubicle. If I expressed a fraction of my anger, I’d explode. They weren’t listening to me. They didn’t grasp how monstrous Krüger was.

  They were going to go ahead.

  But without me.

  I stopped before I reached the doorway. I couldn’t maintain my pretense of calm in there. Not if my father asked me again for that unattainable Time magazine. I tried to look casual as I turned back toward the table. Van Hoof and Holger were debating how to deal with Krüger.

  I stepped behind van Hoof’s chair to reach the counter where the pot sat on the hot plate. The main room was so chilly that fat had congealed on top of the liquid. I picked up a spoon, while at the same time I extended my other hand to turn on the burner.

  “Leave it alone,” van Hoof said without looking at me. “Moambe must cool undisturbed.” He resumed his conversation with Holger. “Krüger won’t know Casey isn’t with us. I’ll have him in custody before he reaches the meeting point.”

  Holger said, “We must be ready if you don’t succeed in your first attempt.”

  “We can make it difficult for him to recognize that I’m posing as Casey,” Erika said. “Get him to come out in the open while I’m still some distance from him.”

  “You have to be close enough to cover the major,” Bert said.

  I stared at the moambe. The grease layer was thicker now, the smell of chicken fat blocking the mingled odors of the spices. I still had the long-handled spoon in my hand. Carefully, I laid it on the counter.

  “It will work,” van Hoof said to Holger.

  It wouldn’t. Van Hoof and Erika against Krüger? An imbalance. One that only I could redress. I was the key to this. I wanted Stefan out first. But it wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I could rescue him on my own. No way I could get myself and my father back home again without their help. I couldn’t back out—I had nothing to back into.

  I picked up the spoon. When I pierced the greasy layer of palmnut sauce, the steam that rose through the gap made the skin on my fingers tingle.

  “No,” Bert whimpered as though I’d hurt him.

  I pointed the spoon at Holger like a sword. “All right,” I said. “I’ll do my part.”

  “Good,” Holger replied. “With Kathryn the plan will work. We have the advantage now. We’ve forced Krüger into hiding. Eliminated the henchmen he used as guards. Cut him off from his terrorist connections. He’s operating alone, in terrain that van Hoof knows as well as he does. He asked for this meeting, not us. This time, we are the stronger ones.”

  Holger stood, and for a half second I thought he was going to lift his arms in the same batwing gesture he used to end the Lutheran worship service, as if to invoke a divine blessing on our mission.

  But he looked at me.

  And his arms remained at his sides.

  25

  The Elbe moved swiftly between weedy banks, the swollen waters the same shade as the low-hanging overcast. Erika and I stood ten feet from the river, our bicycles leaning against a waist-high concrete wall. Buttoned into a padded blue cotton coat, her hair covered by a matching blue kerchief, Erika sucked hungrily on a cigarette. The smoke wreathed her head, another dulled-out shade of gray on this dour day. I glanced around, checking all directions for any sign that we’d been followed as we biked our way to this vacant lot near the river. I saw nothing alarming. On the hill above us, the spires of Albrechtsburg Castle stabbed upward, a brooding reminder of Meissen’s golden age in the thirteenth century.

  It was fifteen minutes past noon on Tuesday. My meeting with Krüger was scheduled to take place at twelve-thirty in Meissen’s only tourist attraction, the museum attached to the chinaware factory. Since the early 1700s, this village had manufactured so-called Dresden china, each hand
-painted piece identified on its back by the hallmark crossed blue swords.

  Crossed. And double-crossed. As I’d feared, Holger had ended up orchestrating every detail of the mission. For safety, he and van Hoof had gone elsewhere to communicate with Krüger, physically distancing themselves from the rest of us in the warehouse. I couldn’t fault the technique. But the secrecy made me ache all over, my muscles wired tight by edgy uneasiness.

  Shut out of the planning, I’d found a deck of cards and inveigled my father into an endless game of solitaire. Then I’d focused on Stefan. After we captured Krüger, we had to move immediately to free Stefan. Bert and I reviewed the detail maps, checking out the three places in Germany where Gorm suspected that Stefan might be confined. We found them scattered along a north-south line running through Berlin.

  Northwest of us, in Rostock, somewhere on the grounds of the former IMES armament factory.

  Far to the south, a villa on the shore of Tegern See.

  Outside Berlin, in a fenced-off section of the old Soviet garrison at Reisa. I was tempted to focus on that one, closest to Krüger’s cabin. But it was also the most likely red herring.

  Bert and I roughed out plans for a swift assault at each location. We rehearsed the best-case scenario, everything going right, Krüger ending up in custody, telling us where to find Stefan. And then Bert and I went through it again the other way, everything going wrong.

  Unnecessary, perhaps, with business moving smoothly ahead on schedule. By midnight on Monday, Holger and van Hoof had agreed with Krüger on a supposedly neutral site for the meeting. Years ago, during my stay in Denmark, Holger had described to me how this game was played, the tedious bluff and counterbluff required. Step by careful step, he worked toward that point where it was his adversary who proposed the outcome Holger favored.

  According to van Hoof, Holger’s moves against Krüger had been “brilliant.” The result was that Erika and I were in Meissen, a location that van Hoof deemed “ideal.”

  Nothing about it felt right to me. I scanned the riverbank in both directions. “I don’t like this,” I said.