by Hawk, Nate
Niko smiled as he thought about placing explosives at the base of one of the buildings and watching as he detonated them. Shaking the thought, he walked on, taking everything in. There were enormous ships in port and tall cranes and other machinery loading and unloading goods. He stopped and watched several of the containers and saw their markings: maritime equipment, coffee, sugar, flour and spices. Other containers accommodated oriental carpets and other home furnishings. He may have enjoyed it for what it was if he had been the tourist type, but he wasn’t. His walk was all an illusion that he created to take care of the problem at hand. He wasn’t exactly as captivated by the district as he seemed to be. This was all a way of feeling out his enemy. In his pocket, he gripped the knife that he had stolen from the café.
He was sure they wouldn’t miss it and he didn’t want to be seen purchasing one on the streets. The plan is going well, Niko thought to himself, as he looked into the reflection of a glass window and eyed the woman who was carefully following him.
***
Rick Quinn knew Niko had made the flight to Germany because he had breached the Lufthansa passenger manifesto on the company’s own encrypted system, right before takeoff. Then he was notified electronically when the flight touched down in Hamburg. He had followed all of the flight details himself, in real-time because he knew how important keeping eyes on Niko was. He wasn’t currently with the team in Hamburg because he had stayed in Berlin. He wished that he had more Agency assets to work with, especially more funding. He knew he had to be extremely careful while working without the Agency’s blessing. That was part of the reason he had insisted that Owen Tucker be transferred so quickly. He saw the genius in what he had done and gave himself an atta-boy. He had made up the whole 9-11 story to motivate Agent Tucker. He knew how important upholding morale was. That story was one of Quinn’s favorite motivators. He’d used it so many times before that he was beginning to believe it himself.
Quinn knew his team was following their mark and that all of the agents had confidence in each other’s ability to complete their individual duties. The team was way too close to the terror plot to let their guard down now. On the other hand, each agent knew that no plan survived contact with the enemy. That asshole Murphy always came in and screwed something up.
“Tiny, this is Big Dog, how do you copy, over?”
The irony of a medium-sized white man going by the call sign of “Big Dog” and referring to the much larger man as “Tiny” wasn’t lost on Special Agent Owen “Tiny” Tucker. Initially, he had an urge to punch Quinn’s cracker-ass right in the face. The idea never materialized into anything though and it had gradually been replaced by a growing appreciation for the man. Owen could see how the two of them were so similar in their obsessions with their work. He tried not to think about the hefty toll of having 3000 deaths pulling on his conscience. It just served as a personal reminder to push aside any uncertainties and for him to always do his very to help his team achieve their objective.
“Good copy, Big Dog, loud and clear,” he said confidently.
“Tiny, what is your mark’s 10-20?”
“He’s strolling through the Speicherstadt like a tourist. He’s moseying around like he’s got nothin’ but time. It’s all bullshit so he must have figured out that he’s being tailed. There is a lady in the mix too; maybe a Romanian. She’s been following Niko since the airport.”
There was silence for a moment as Quinn seemed to be thinking.
“Listen,” Quinn said firmly. “Don’t interfere with the Romanian woman. Got it?”
“Uh, yes sir,” Owen said understandingly.
He knew how to take an order.
“Be patient. Keep your distance. The usual. Let’s see what happens,” Quinn directed.
“Yes, sir. I’m on him,” Owen said, with the reassuring voice that he knew Rick wanted to hear. Owen eyed Niko from a distance and watched him wander on, obviously relaying to anyone that noticed that he wasn’t in a hurry.
***
Niko knew he was being tracked. He could feel people watching him. In fact, he was sure there were several sets of eyes. However, the only person that he had made was the woman from the train. But, he was sure that there were more. He didn’t need to look to confirm, plus he knew better than making direct eye contact. That would spoil his plan.
Niko was good enough to retain the edge of surprise from his enemy. Who is this woman that is following me? he wondered. If she was a CIA agent, what did they want? He’d already cleared customs from an international flight. Why didn’t they take him then? She didn’t look like an agent but more notably she didn’t smell like one. She had a realistic level of grit about her so Niko was sure it wasn’t a disguise.
He strolled on then, finished with burning the daylight hours by roaming around in the Speicherstadt. He walked by a torture museum and his mind filled with thoughts. On one hand, all he had to do was think back to the first half of his life to have all of the vivid images and sensations any hardened man could handle. In addition to the images, Niko knew the smells. He knew the horrific sounds. He knew the pain and self-disgust. He could feel the atmosphere of torture in his gut. On the other hand, Niko liked the power of torture when he was in control. He thought about all the fun he could have if he was the torturer. He knew he was a sadist. Well, a sadist and a hypocrite.
He continued thinking about pain as misery as he walked. The sun was long past its peak in the sky and the shadows had become so elongated that they cast a cover of darkness in the narrow streets between the buildings. Niko had put off the alluring seduction of the Reeperbahn long enough. He passed by his hotel without going inside of it. He was walking quicker now but still with a very natural composure. He smiled internally as he gripped the knife in his pocket.
He was anticipating that first moment of penetration. That initial instant when resistance is conquered and the cold edge of the knife infiltrates the body in a self-created passageway. Perhaps nothing pleased him more than when he had a deserving target to work over with a blade. Niko could feel the grungy woman getting close. His senses increased with her proximity. Seeing the upcoming break in the sidewalk, he put his plan into motion. He confidently turned into an alley. Immediately to his left was a second entrance to the shop that he had just passed. Its current purpose was to provide an entrance and exit for employees to take out the trash. He slipped inside the side door, where he could see through the shop and out the front window. He waited there in the back of the proprietor’s shop for the woman to pass him and turn down the alley. He could see through the front window that she made the same turn that he had. The lady following him was definitely the same one that had sat across from him on the train. He acted out an embarrassed expression as a worker from the shop took an interest in his sudden appearance from the private entrance. He excused himself and slid out the front door.
His relative position had changed. The woman surely thought that she was the predator. She was not. She never had been. She had been played, falling victim to Niko’s trap. hurried to move in behind the scarf-wrapped woman. Niko noted her arrogance, as if she were about to out-fox him. He moved swiftly and silently in the shadows, like the assassin that he was. The woman had messed with the wrong person. Niko advanced towards his unsuspecting victim. The concrete footings provided a fine surface for him to close the gap between them.
***
Chapter 37
As Niko had guessed, the woman was not with the CIA. Instead, she was a cunning thief. She had been carefully selecting her targets from the money-changer office for the last year. There was a great view from the café and newsstand across the hallway where she could inconspicuously choose her mark. What better way could she guarantee that her targets were pocketing lots of cash? Her scheme rarely failed and she’d only been caught once. Well, caught wasn’t quite the right word. Somehow she had weaseled out of it by only owing law enforcement a favor at some forthcoming date.
Despite that minor hiccup
, following single women was her preference. She could follow them clear of the airport and then snatch their purse. The men were more difficult but were also usually higher grossing targets with a front pocket full of cash. Some macho thing, she figured. Following her mark from the main station, paralleling in a taxicab, had become second nature for her.
This man was more elusive though. He had somehow managed to keep her at bay for some time. Looking down the alley, the woman had a moment of panic when she realized that the prey had seemingly escaped the huntress. The idea that he may have doubled around never occurred to the woman. She was blinded by the tunnel vision created by her own confidence.
She had no idea she had become the hunted, until it was too late for her. She picked up speed, approaching the intersection of the next alley, in hopes of getting a glance at her target. But where had he gone? Had she lost him? The cobblestone streets were more difficult to move quickly on so she moved to the edge of the alley where there was a concrete footing.
She was like a horse with blinders, unable to see any other distractions that may have been to her sides or rear. Suddenly, a powerful arm reached around her head. It covered her mouth and pulled her close to a man’s chest. She felt a sharp object being pressed into her side, making a controlled stop just before it would have punctured her clothes and body. It was still uncomfortable as the object poked her side. The man looked around to see if anyone had taken note of the two in the alley.
“Why are you following me?” Niko asked as perspiration slid down his temples and became lost in her hair.
The side of her head was being pushed with enormous force against his. She was terrified and was slow to respond.
“I… I…”
“Look here you gypsy bitch… I know you from the train and so I’m asking again. Why the hell are you following me?”
He applied more force, signaling that he would escalate his control on an as needed basis.
“I just… I saw you changing your money at the station. Times are hard, you know, that’s all. Let go of me. Stop. You’re hurting me.”
“Keep fighting me! I love it!” he said, with a sadistic tone. “You are telling me that you are a pickpocket?”
He applied more pressure and gnarled his tone for effect.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she sobbed. “My flat is close to here and I… I saw you again and I was hoping to lift some money. That’s all! Please let go of me!”
Niko covered her mouth, again. He wasn’t sure who this woman was. In his world, though, he knew that he had a great opportunity to send a message to anyone who was coming for him. He half-spun the woman around and forced her back to the wall. He looked deep in her eyes and all he saw was a tired old transient. Who was she, really? Did it matter?
Niko’s sadistic ways combined with his interactions with the woman proved to be enough to put him over the edge. The built up frustration and rage came boiling to the surface. He knew that he was going to kill her. He also knew, if he didn’t hurry up, somebody was going to see them. Maybe some other agents would capture and interrogate him.
He suddenly decided that he was done thinking and analyzing. He put all of his mental anguish into his arm and hand that held the steak knife. In one fluid motion he pulled back on the weapon and pushed it deep into her torso, penetrating just under her sternum. She tried to lean away and she gave a vain attempt to yell but her world had become hopeless. Niko slammed her head against the brick wall of the alley. You’re done picking pockets, he thought, as he stabbed her a second time. Her hands instinctively lowered to the wound on her stomach, which is what Niko suspected would happen.
Few people walked by the alley but none of them were observant enough to see the two struggling in the shadows. Additionally, the sounds of the crowds on the other sides of the alley were enough to mask any scuffling that may have otherwise been overheard. Then he permanently silenced his pursuer. He took the serrated edge of the knife and ran it across her throat, creating a deep red crescent. He pulled her head forward to momentarily control the bleeding so it didn’t spatter in his face. With the knife still in his right hand, he placed his palms near her temples and twisted it hard. He continued to apply as much force as he could until there was a snap. Niko was always amazed at how much force was required to break a neck.
Her body seemed to fight valiantly all the way until it had no choice but to accept its instant death. As he lowered the woman’s body, he tilted her head back to allow the blood to flow. Niko quickly searched the body for identification or communication devices. He found neither. Maybe she had told him the truth, he found himself thinking. Either way Niko was feeling much better. He wiped the knife on her clothing and calmly walked away. He was satisfied knowing that he had fulfilled his desire to implement a swift death to rid the world of her annoyance. Still, something was unsatisfying. Was there more to her reason to follow him than she admitted?
The other item that bothered Niko was that the killing didn’t sooth his nerves, as much as it once had. He had built up a tolerance to it. It was like a drug that he had taken too much of. He would need more and more to find the same level of satisfaction. In fact, this killing had felt too platonic. He yearned for something more exciting, something… dirtier. But, he knew that he had other concerns at the moment.
The first one was that despite his best efforts, he had the woman’s blood on his clothing. Fixing that was easy. He stuffed the knife in his jacket pocket and then turned the coat inside out, holding it away from his body as he pulled his arms out of the sleeves. After folding the jacket into a ball, Niko began carrying it carefully tucked under one arm. He walked past an assortment of dumpsters and recycle containers. Surely those dumpsters would be the first place the cops would search. He hadn’t evaded incarceration that long by being dumb. No, he had a much better idea.
He kept walking until he was back out on a main thoroughfare. He found himself still intrigued by the unique lighting in the red-light district. He melted into the crowd and passed all the types of shops that the Reeperbahn displays for consumer interest. There were smoke shops, sex shops, discotheques, and strip clubs. The only thing not present was shame. Everybody was there to satisfy one vice or another. There were hordes of people walking the streets. Some shortened their pace as they turned and entered buildings with varying levels of determination. Yet many others just walked under the neon lights with a drink or a cigarette in their hands. Their vice was staring at the debauchery. In doing so, they unknowingly added to the atmosphere themselves.
The district was clearly the underbelly of the great city of Hamburg and Niko craved the rush that its dirtiness engendered within him. He was feeling more excited with each step he took. Niko walked on further, until he saw the blue lights of the police station sign before him: Polizei. He held the coat tightly now as he slipped behind the police headquarters, and then tossed the bloodied coat filled with evidence of the murder into their rusty dumpster. He doubted they would ever look in their own dumpster for evidence.
An early dusk had quickly overpowered the daylight as unwelcome weather began moving into Hamburg. Dark clouds now blocked out the sun’s offer of a couple of more hours of sunlight. The clouds marched low in the atmosphere causing a fog like effect. The city of Hamburg had become dark.
A light rain joined the adverse weather elements marching through the urban sprawl. The foul weather was noted by those regaling in the streets, but just so. It was only enough of an inconvenience to inspire them to gravitate inside or underneath the many protective marquees that lined the street. The weather clearly wasn’t enough to stop the electronically enhanced bass rhythms that permeated the atmosphere. Or the excessive drinking. Or the constant partying.
Niko’s clothes were now damp with precipitation, especially the shoulder area of his polo shirt. He was likely the only person in the Reeperbahn district that was pleased by the inclement atmospheric conditions that fell on him like a blessing from Allah. The man knew that the
water on his dark clothes would help mask any bloodstains he might still have. He was still high from the killing but it was different than his first kill. After so many killings, the rush just wasn’t as good. Nonetheless, he knew which direction to point dial on his moral compass. Seeing an opportunity, he changed course and walked towards a men’s clothing store. Without further thought or hesitation, he went inside and was greeted by an eager clerk.
“Guten, Tag!” the man said.
“Moin Moin,” he responded neutrally, using the slang of a local city resident.
Niko had begun developing the required vocabulary to communicate as a local but his accent was clearly American. Knowing this, Ali switched to English and continued his dedicated quest to match his new customer with the most expensive menswear that he could sell him. Lucky for Ali, Niko was in a generous mood.
Half an hour later, Niko was back walking the streets and looking his best. The clothes that he had previously worn had been discarded in the business’s trash. His new clothes would surely provide him with the level of class to which his vision was set upon. But after that revealing thought came the next. It was a mental image of his mentor Abbas, his nose held high at the world. Niko shook the thought. No, he wouldn’t allow himself to act like Abbas.
Then he spotted a bar and sized it up. Feeling satisfied that this was the right place to begin, he engaged a barmaid’s attention and ordered three shots of their best vodka. As the fire of the clear liquid hit his lips he embraced the subtle, bread-like aroma. He was reminded of the best side that his home country had to offer. That sensation coupled with the crisp character of the winter grains, left his palate fully satisfied. He knew his nerves would soon be satisfied, too.