by Brian Peters
“The paperwork will take maybe forty minutes or so. Another hour and then we can be on our way. You can drive the car to my apartment and pick me up, and then we can go. OK?”
“What about insurance?”
“I’ll take care of it, Luke. I’ll take care of all the paperwork; everything; now please don’t worry.” Kohler thrust the envelope into Luke’s hand impatiently and got out of the car. He made for the showroom but Luke remained seated in the car. Kohler turned round and made his way back to the car. “Luke, we have gone this far. I promise you that everything is above board. You can’t back out now. And we are running out of time. Please don’t let me down.” Luke couldn’t think of any more questions to ask. Or any more excuses. He reluctantly put the envelope in his pocket and followed Kohler slowly back to the showroom.
The delighted salesman asked them if they wanted a coffee. They both refused, Kohler expressing a desire for them to get away as soon as possible.
Luke was amazed at how quickly the deal was completed. Kohler did all the talking. Luke began to realise that Kohler seemed to know the salesman better than he had at first intimated, or was he just imagining it?
He signed whatever was put in front of him, resigned now to whatever the outcome would be and wanting to get to the airport and away as quickly as possible. And not having any idea as to what Kohler was explaining to the salesman or for what he was signing for. The vehicle was registered in his name; insurance was sorted out with Kohler presumably as an additional driver, and the documents were handed over to Luke. The salesman thanked Luke and pumped his hand enthusiastically. They were away from the dealers in just over an hour after the last test drive.
Luke settled himself in the new Mercedes and followed Kohler back to the apartment, surprised when Kohler took a wrong turning and had to do a U-turn before they got back to the apartment. Lack of concentration probably, he thought. Kohler parked the old car and came over to Luke.
“That was quite painless, wasn’t it? I will have to go back up to the apartment; I have some papers to collect. Wait for me down here, I’ll only be a minute. Oh, and you better give me the documents to the car, eh Luke?” Kohler opened his briefcase, put the documents inside with the remainder of the euros and disappeared into the building.
When he came back down he said: ” OK, I’ll drive now. We’ll stop somewhere and have a meal, we’ve got time; and then I can pay you whatever it is I owe you. It will be in euros though. OK?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I can change it on the boat. You’ll need to get some fuel though, it’s nearly empty.”
“Ah yes, OK.” He looked hard at Luke and gave him one of his dazzling smiles. “Please cheer up, Luke. You have nothing to worry about, I assure you. There is nothing illegal that we have done. I really am extremely grateful to you. I hope you never have to go through a divorce. It is extremely distasteful. And having met your lovely wife I am sure that you never will.” Luke wasn’t reassured at all. About the car, that is.
Kohler patted Luke on the knee and settled himself in the driving seat.
Once they had driven about forty kilometres on the autobahn they pulled into a service area, filled the car, parked it and went into the restaurant where they ordered a snack. Kohler paid Luke everything he owed him including the 400 euros bonus. Luke took the opportunity to visit the immaculate toilet, with its electrically operated self-cleaning seats, in complete contrast to a motorway service area in England, before leaving. The journey to Düsseldorf didn’t take long. Kohler was an aggressive driver, not taking risks but pushing the Merc along at close to 100 miles an hour. Luke was continually surprised at how fast the traffic travelled and how disciplined it was. More so than at home he thought. They arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare. Kohler already had the airline ticket and gave it to Luke at the dropping off point. Kohler said: “Would you like me to come in and wait with you until the flight is due?”
“No thanks, that won’t be necessary. Look, you get off home, save the car park fee, I’ll be OK.”
He shook Luke’s hand warmly, thanked him profusely for what he had done and promised to look him up the next time he was in England.
Before he knew it, Luke was boarding the Ryanair flight bound for Stansted.
He felt that he’d been on a roller coaster since he’d arrived at Kohler’s apartment. Now seated in the plane, he had time to reflect on the day’s events. He went over every minute and found it difficult to believe that he’d been intimidated into buying a car with a huge amount of cash and for a veritable stranger of whose background he knew very little about. And who was armed with a fearsome looking weapon. How would Asil take it? He dreaded to think. By the time the plane landed he had a thumping headache that more than matched his hangover from the morning in intensity.
And he still hadn’t managed to get Kohler’s mobile number- .
CHAPTER 3
It was April 1945. The American and Allied troops were making inroads across Germany’s borders. American and British air forces carried ot relentless bombing raids. Pieter Kohler was certain that the Americans would overrun the Lüdenscheid area within weeks.
He worked at the Bade & Rinscheid metal works, or in what was left of it; his son Dieter was a navigator in the Luftwaffe.
Pieter had known for months that Germany had already lost the war. As the bombing became more frequent he had reinforced the cellar under his bungalow and installed the bare necessities to survive a long stay. He had blocked off the access under the stairs and made a new entrance from the garden, just in case the property was bombed and the old access in the house became blocked.
His wife Irma had died the previous year of leukaemia and was buried in the local cemetery in Sondern. He placed flowers on her grave every Sunday after church.
His twenty-year-old son was all he had left and he prayed every day that he would survive the war and settle down with his beautiful fiancée Brigitte, a most charming girl whom he loved as if she were his own daughter.
Dieter did survive the war. When he came home in 1946, his father had aged almost beyond recognition. At sixty-one he was thin and bent, the result of the lack of food and the poor quality of it. The hard physical work at the factory had taken its toll too.
Brigitte had also survived the horrendous bombing raids of the spring of 1945. In spite of their separation she was still deeply in love with Dieter and as soon as they were reunited she was making plans for their wedding. But Dieter was a changed man; he became increasingly morose and prone to violent moods. He had shared the drinking parties celebrating the survival of his colleagues after every mission over England, but had also witnessed the deaths of many of those friends and colleagues. After the camaraderie experienced with his fellow aircrew, with whom he had experienced the constant danger of a raid and the adrenaline rushes in the heat of battle, life seemed deadly dull when the war was over. He was sometimes hostile towards Brigitte after a bout of drinking, although he still worshiped her.
Because of his worsening irrational behaviour, Brigitte decided to move away, hoping that Dieter would come to his senses and change his ways. She moved out one day, leaving him a letter explaining why she could not live her life with him unless he changed. She moved to Olpe, a large town not very far away and took an apartment, sharing with a single girlfriend.
But Dieter was too proud to chase after her and they never got back together.
He held down a good job at Bade & Rindscheid where his father had served so loyally, and threw himself into repairing and refurbishing the bungalow, where he lived a lonely existence. He had looked after his father Pieter who had suffered increasingly poor health until he died in 1955.
Brigitte learned of her father-in-laws death from a family friend. She did attend his funeral in Sondern because she had loved him as much as her own father and he had always kept in touch with her until just before his death.
At the wake held in the village hall aft
er the funeral, she spoke to Dieter and comforted him as best she could, recounting fond memories of his father. Pieter had kept his contact with Brigitte from his son for all those years, not wishing to open old wounds, knowing how guilty his son had felt about treating Brigitte badly after the war had ended.
She had married a local man on the rebound a year after their parting. He had turned out to be a lazy, abusive drunkard and they were divorced after only three years, fortunately with no children.
The old flame was rekindled between them at the funeral and they married in the February of the next year. It was 1961 before their first child, Elsa, was born. Their second child, Klaus, was born three years later.
Dieter’s employment at the factory had seen him rise rapidly as the business picked up in the years after the war. He was enjoying a good salary, enough to buy them one of the new houses on the outskirts of Olpe. The bungalow had become too small for the growing family. Dieter couldn’t bear to part with it, so he rented it out as a holiday home. He foresaw that the building of the Bigge reservoir would be good for leisure activities and tourism; he was pleasantly surprised at the number of bookings that began to roll in as Germanys recovery gained pace throughout the sixties and people became more affluent.
Over the years he added a conservatory at the back of the bungalow, covering the entrance to the cellar; landscaped the garden and added a small swimming pool and a hot tub. The garden was screened with high hedges and a room was added in the loft. A landing jetty sat at the end of the garden with a rowing boat for the use of the tenants.
Young Klaus grew up to be an intelligent and resourceful teenager, wheeling and dealing in cars and anything he could turn into a profit. Dieter, his father, frowned upon the company he kept. But Klaus was very much his own man at an early age. He was very good at manipulating people.
****
Asil met Luke at the airport arrivals. It had taken him forty-five minutes to get through baggage and the plane had been twenty minutes late leaving Düsseldorf, so Asil had been waiting over an hour and a half. During that time she had bought a book at the bookstall and sat down to a Costa coffee and an expensive and over-sweet piece of confectionery.
She wanted to know all about his journey and what had transpired with Mr. Kohler. Luke told her every thing as they walked from the airport to the car park. Everything, that is, except the bit about the gun. He knew that he was in trouble enough without mentioning that.
She remained silent until Luke had finished telling her the whole, bizarre story. They reached the car and got in, Asil in the driving seat.
“Well, what do you think, darling?” he said as brightly as he could. Inside his stomach was churning.
She didn’t answer, just stole a sideways look at him, tight-lipped, shaking her head. She started the car and said nothing as she drove out of the car park, paying at the meter at the exit and making their way to the A120 towards Colchester.
Luke became more apprehensive as the minutes rolled by and the silence continued. He could almost hear Asil’s brain ticking away, absorbing all the information that he’d given to her.
He could wait no longer and said impatiently: “Well?”
She said quietly “I don’t know what to say, Luke. I don’t like you being the registered owner of that car.” She paused and then said, with a definite edge to her voice:
“ Suppose he gets done for speeding, or has an accident, or maybe kills someone? Is it you that the police will contact? You said yourself that we don’t know anything about our Mr. Kohler. And how did he come by so much cash?”
Luke opened his mouth to reply but Asil carried on before he managed to get a word out. She was really angry now and in full flow, upping the volume. “What ever were you thinking, Luke? How could you have agreed to something so – so stupid?”
Luke was taken aback at the ferocity of this outburst, so uncharacteristic of her. All Asil’s old fears were resurfacing. Memories of her lost parents, her insane Aunt Morag, the agents Vasiliu and Alexandru who had kidnapped her when she was still a child; of the psychotic Romanian Campeanu who had shot Luke in the shoulder when they were escaping and would have killed both of them had he had the chance; that had happened only a few years ago, just before they were married. And now Luke was seemingly involving them in another dubious and dangerous set of circumstances. Her anger was also partly towards Kohler; a man she thought so much of, a man so like her father and who now had manipulated her husband into a shady deal.
Luke left it several minutes before replying. “Look Asil, everything happened so fast, I didn’t have time to think. He seems genuine enough and he’s a very persuasive man. You liked him too Asil. He paid me well, 400 euros on top of my expenses.”
Asil took her eyes off the road for a split second to throw him a wide-eyed look of incredulity.
“Paid you well? Paid you well? Luke you don’t need the money! We have more than enough to last us several lifetimes! What does the money matter for God’s sake?”
Luke loved her deeply and they enjoyed a very happy marriage in almost every respect. He had never met anyone quite like Asil; his affairs had been with local girls and he had not had more than a couple of serious relationships before they had met. And he had known nothing of her financial state at the time that they came together. But the fact that Asil’s inheritance was worth millions rankled. He felt that he needed to be self-sufficient when it came to money, for his pride more than anything else. That was one of the reasons why he kept his business going, to have a purpose in life, to be able to buy her presents with his own money, pay for meals at a nice restaurant, take her away for romantic weekends and holidays. He knew that she understood this. Nevertheless, he had overstepped the mark this time and he knew it and he regretted it deeply. It was part of his rather shallow nature that she was usually prepared to overlook.
Luke clammed up and stared out of the passenger window, tight lipped and angry with himself. Asil knew that she’d hurt him and immediately felt bad at losing her temper with him. She gradually calmed down after realising that she had been driving at over 85 miles an hour, her anger making her oblivious to her surroundings. After a few miles in total silence, she slowed down, pulled into a lay by and switched off the ignition. Luke stared straight ahead sullenly, not wanting to make eye contact. Asil turned to him, put her hand on his thigh, leaned across and kissed him gently on the cheek. Tears clouded her eyes.
“Sorry, my darling. I know that it’s hard for you not to be too kind-hearted and trusting. It’s part of the reason I love you so much. Let’s just hope that our Mr. Kohler is a careful driver, eh?”
Luke turned to her and smiled ruefully. “Sorry darling. I’m a bloody fool aren’t I? I really don’t deserve you!”
Only then when he saw the haunted look on her face did he realise how deeply upset she was. He gripped her hand and shook his head, a lump forming in his throat. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. He said nothing for a few seconds, and then smiled. He tried to lighten the situation.
“And let’s not forget that you were the one who was so keen for me to help our Mr Kohler in the first place!”
She laughed through the tears. “Touché!” she said. They embraced and kissed and held each other for a few minutes before Asil continued the drive home.
Luke however was full of misgivings the more he retraced the events of that day. The fact that the apartment had nothing in it that seemed to be personal to Kohler. The fact that Kohler was seemingly unaware that there was no ashtray when he lit his cigarette. The fact that he had taken the wrong turning when he was being followed back to the apartment and had had to turn round and go back.
And then there was the gun.
Asil could never stay cross with him for long. But she was still deeply troubled by what he had done. The more she thought about what Luke had told her, the more it convinced her that Kohler was some sort of con man. Or worse, a criminal involved in who kno
ws what. To what ends she couldn’t speculate. In any case, she felt sure that he would lead them into more trouble at some stage. Her woman’s intuition was to be proved right.
****
Arland Kennet disembarked from the Piper Cherokee onto a grass landing strip a couple of miles south of Düsseldorf. The same Arland Kennet that Kohler had been observing at the Kennet house a couple of months ago.
It was the beginning of August and a soft, warm summer rain blew into his face as he stepped out onto the wet grass. When he’d left the airstrip near Sudbury the weather had been fine and sunny.
A stocky, suited man with an umbrella stood by a dark blue Mercedes just in front of a low barn a hundred yards away from where he had parked the Piper Cherokee. Kennet hurried towards him shielding his head from the rain with his briefcase, cursing the fact that he had not been better prepared for this weather. His light blouson was getting soaked.
“Herr Kennet? Wilkommen,” the man said as he opened the rear door of the car. “It will take only a few minutes to get you to the office where Herr Seifert is waiting for you,” the driver said in clipped English.
The office was on the top floor of a large warehouse situated on an industrial estate just outside of the town. The big sign at the entrance to the complex read “Seifert Logistics.” Several container lorries were parked on the premises all decorated with the Seifert Logistics logo.
Franz Seifert’s office was Spartan; a large plain desk with a computer terminal and writing pad, and a coffee machine gurgling away on a table near the window. A water cooler was situated by the opposite wall. Two comfortable red leather chairs faced the desk. The whole back wall was glass, looking out onto the lorry parking area at the front of the premises.