The Hunt (Mike Greystone, Book 1)

by Michael Sigurdsson

  "Gudrun, have you got that, you should drive to Philly Stadium," I repeated what Martin said.

  "Got that," she responded in a shaky voice. She probably realized the gravity of the situation. "Where the fuck is it?"

  "We'll give you instructions how to get there until the cops catch up with you. Then they'll lead you there."

  "Thanks," she said meekly. But then added in a barely audible voice: “I’ll kill this fucking bastard.” I think she wasn’t walking about Morgenthal.

  Dermot took over to guide her through the streets.

  "I see the cops now," Gudrun reported.

  "Good, follow them," I said.

  A few minutes later they entered the Stadium parking lot. The bomb squad were in place. The plan was to replace her with a specially-built machine so that any possible pressure sensors in the seat weren’t activated, and then to detonate the explosive.

  Two bomb technicians' cars were driving alongside Gudrun's car. They opened her car's front doors and gave her instructions. They had inserted a slightly curved plate under her bottom. She probably didn't like it. They fastened it and attached some weights to it. The car was moving all the time. Fortunately the parking lot was large and empty. One of the cops propped the accelerator pedal down with an elongated device. They lifted her out of the car and put in some more equipment that looked like legs and attached them to the pedals. The whole device was radio controlled and would allow them to stop the car when all involved were at a safe distance.

  The bomb disposal guys took Gudrun away from the parking lot and steered the car into the center of the car park. They had a camera and were streaming the footage to Dermot, who relayed it to Martin, who sent it live to my phone. The car was approaching the center of the parking lot and the radio operator started slowing it down until it stopped.

  We waited a few seconds.

  Nothing.

  We waited some more.

  Nothing.

  I heard Gudrun on the phone: "Mike, you bastard! I'm going to cut your dick off! I was scared to death and it was just a hoax. I don't want you talking to me again!" Her rant went on.

  I was puzzled myself.

  "I don't understand. Was this guy Loki just playing me?" I thought to myself.

  I didn't have to wait long before I heard a massive explosion on my cellphone and saw a wall of flames on the screen.

  It wasn't a hoax after all.

  "Gudrun, are you okay?" I asked.

  There was a period of silence.

  She said in a trembling voice: "I'm fine."

  "I'll drop by to see you’re all right," I offered.

  There was more silence.

  It seemed like she gathered herself before exploding:

  "Don't you ever dare to come near me! It was all your fault!"

  This was the kind of gratitude that I usually got for saving somebody's life. You try to be a hero, but end up being a nuisance. Where the fuck was the justice in this world?

  I called Martin. "Call Dermot from Research & Execution and get him to arrange 24-hour a day protection for Gudrun. I know she won't like it, but this is not a picnic anymore."

  "Sure, no problem."

  "And ask Norman to shadow her until I catch Morgenthal." I finished the call.

  Norman Ryan was one of our top guys. He was with the Marine Corps, but got bored. I suspect the most disappointing thing was not that it was so boring, but that the pay wasn't great. I enlisted him to my business and he was much happier, at least financially. I’m not sure if emotionally, as this was hard to fathom. His face rarely displayed any emotion. He wasn't the prettiest on my team, and Zara fondly called him Denis, by which she meant another branch of humans, Denisovans, who, as she said, lived at the same time as the Neanderthals. She’d read it and had seen the pictures recently in the National Geographic. Anyway, although I haven't seen any pictures, I'm sure the Denisovans couldn't have been more handsome than the Neanderthals. This nickname was meant by Zara to be a sophisticated allusion to Norman's ugliness. In fact, Igor Ivanov, the boss of the Russian mob, seems quite pleasing to the eye compared to Norman. Even though Ivanov he was a typical Neanderthal to my mind. The key difference between the two was that Ivanov looked Neanderthal stupid, but was smart. Whereas Norman Ryan looked really Neanderthal ugly, but was clever, none the less. Regardless of the nickname and derisive comments, Zara liked Norman. I wouldn't be surprised if there was some sexual activity going on between them. I’d heard rumors from a reliable source, i.e. from Maya. But gentlemen don't comment on that. Beyond what was already in the public domain.

  Anyway, he was very useful for our operations, so I didn't dwell on his appearance too much. I hated putting people into boxes, but sometimes you can't help it. If the job required seducing a beauty, he would not be the right guy. If it required killing or intimidating someone, he would be perfect.

  When Norman was on the job, Gudrun would be safe until I caught Morgenthal.

  21.

  MY PHONE RANG. It was my daughter, Sophia, who happened to be Gudrun's daughter too. It wasn't that much of a coincidence considering Gudrun was my ex. Sophia was still a link between me and Gudrun. We occasionally had to tolerate each other in the presence of our daughter, whether we liked it or not.

  "Hi sweetie," I answered.

  "Hi Dad."

  "Glad you're calling," we don't talk too often, busy schedule, no time.

  "I’d be glad if you called me more often," she said with reproach.

  I really tried to be an exemplary father, but considering my work commitments it wasn’t always possible. But I tried to see her every month, which in practice was probably more like every two months. I loved Sophia dearly and would certainly reconnect with her in the future. Perhaps it was about time to retire and reconnect with the family, i.e. Sophia? I wasn’t keen on reconnecting with Gudrun.

  "Sophia, I know I haven't been the best father so far. But don't judge me too harshly. You are my child and I love you above all else. I'm doing my best, you know that. I promise to do even better," I meant it.

  "You mean in the future?" she asked sarcastically.

  "Yes, in the future."

  "The foreseeable future?"

  "I hope so."

  "I hope so too."

  I didn’t say anything for a while. Sophia didn’t either.

  "So, how are things going?" I tried to change the subject.

  "Okay," she said. I heard an audible contraindication in the tone of her voice.

  "Sophie. Is there something you’re not telling me?" I asked.

  "No, not really."

  "Not really? Tell me what it is?" I demanded.

  “All is fine, dad. Don’t worry.”

  “I do worry. Sophia, tell me what’s going on, please.”

  She was a typical teenager. I had to extract information from her bit by bit.

  "I don't feel I fit in at my school."

  Sophia was nearly 16 and was in a private high school in Philadelphia. I paid for the tuition. Well, technically, I gave the money to Gudrun and she paid it. In fact, I gave her the money, she would pay with my credit card, and then she would demand I paid that too. Needless to say, she would spend the money I gave her for tuition in the first place. Clever girl. And I’m sure she was telling everybody that I was miserly and she had to pay for our daughter's education. I knew about some of the things she was spreading about me, as Dermot had told me about the rumors. I asked him to do me a favor and do some surveillance on Gudrun after our divorce to find out how she was doing and make sure she stayed out of trouble. Dermot told me I should talk to her if I cared about my reputation. I tried, but she was even more furious when she had found out I’d hired investigators to follow her. She was beyond any hope of fixing. So I just assumed a relaxed attitude. Besides, I didn’t really have that many friends, so my reputation wasn’t on top of my list. As far as my work was concerned, my reputation was impeccable, and Gudrun had no link to that world whatsoever, so she wasn’t a
threat to my professional reputation.

  "You don't feel you fit in there, what do you mean?" I still didn't understand.

  "Yeah, I don't like the people, the atmosphere, you know. A lot of the pupils at the school don't like me either. And we don't get any support from the school staff when we need it."

  "Are you trying to say you’re being bullied?" I was shocked.

  "No, it's just they aren’t nice to me."

  "Sophia, I know what that means, I've been to high school myself." She knew that was a long time ago at Cambridge in the UK, but she didn’t know it wasn't really that bad. "You're being bullied, aren’t you? Tell me it’s not true? Or rather, tell me the truth. I'll help you get through it."

  She hesitated. I suppose I wouldn't be the first port of call in case of that kind of trouble.

  "Tell me, it's better to deal with it right here, right now, and nip it in the bud," I encouraged her. "I may be able to help."

  I repeated the request a few more times. It was very hard to deal with a teenager.

  "Daddy, you may be right, it might be better to tell the truth now. I can give you a chance, but I'm really not sure how you could help." She still wasn't fully convinced.

  "Try me," I said.

  After a longer pause.

  "I’m having a very tough time there. It's horrible. I can't stand it anymore," she started sobbing.

  I wasn't sure what to say to be honest. I had to make life and death decisions in a split second in my professional life, but this seemed to be bigger than any of those. Not knowing what to say I just tried to calm her down.

  "Don't worry darling, I'll sort it out, I'll talk to the principal," I said.

  "No, don't do that! How will I look, like a pussy? I don't want you to talk to him," Sophia protested.

  "Sweetie, it's the only way. I don't want it to sound like a lecture, but adults do it that way. They resolve conflict by talking. I’m going to talk to the principal."

  "That won't help, I know it won't," she said.

  I could still hear her crying on the line, but I could also feel her last words were more of a question with a tiny ray of hope, rather than a statement.

  "I can be very persuasive. My stint at the CIA had honed my people skills beyond recognition. And I interview people a lot these days." I failed to provide any details, as my interviews are rarely pleasant for the interviewees, or healthy for them for that matter.

  "I don't care, do what you want. I just don't want any trouble at school." She seemed to be cheering up a little, although I could have been wrong.

  "You can't get into worse trouble that you're in now," I argued.

  "It can always get worse, believe me."

  "Leave it with me," I promised to fix it and asked: "What's his name, by the way? I mean the principal."

  "Gerald van Klompf."

  "I'll talk to him."

  "Thanks dad."

  "By the way, can you remind me of the name of the school?"

  "Dad, are you joking? You don't remember the name of my school?" Sophia was shocked. I wasn't.

  "It slipped my mind."

  "Dad, I'm really disappointed. It's St. Eusebia Girls’ School."

  "Thanks, I'll get it sorted."

  "Thank you daddy."

  "No problem, by the way, there was an incident with your mother. A bomb exploded in her car."

  "Oh my God, is she dead?" she cried, shocked.

  "No, everything’s fine, she wasn't in the car when it exploded. The bomb squad managed to get her out in time."

  "You scared me to death. I nearly died of a heart attack," she complained. "Never do that again!"

  "Sorry sweetheart, I started at the wrong part of the story."

  "What happened?"

  "I'm chasing a criminal. He's clever, but unstable. It seems he knows the government and I are after him and that’s making him nervous. He’s taking it very personally now and that's why he planted a bomb in your mother’s car, to get at me," I explained.

  "Will he try it again? Is mom safe?" Sophia asked anxiously.

  "He might, but I have my guys looking after her, she’s safe now."

  "Thanks Dad."

  "I'll ask my government contacts to keep an eye on you too, can you live with that for a while?" I asked my daughter.

  "For how long?" she asked.

  "I don't know, a few weeks max."

  "Am I really at risk too?"

  "I don't know, this guy is unpredictable, I'd really rather you were covered."

  "Okay."

  "I'll call my guys then."

  After a moment of silence.

  "So how's mom, should I call her?" Sophia asked.

  "Yeah, you'd better call her, she's a little shaky right now. A word from you might sooth her. Besides, she thinks it's my fault. To some extent it is. But she wasn't very grateful for having organized the rescue operation."

  "You know her."

  "I know, that's one of the reasons we're no longer together. She was never grateful."

  "You could give her a chance some day?"

  "Doubt it, we're too old for that now."

  "I'll call her anyway."

  "Please do, it'll do her good. And I'll take care of Mr. Van Klompf. Leave it with me," I said and hung up.

  22.

  THIS GUDRUN BOMB thing put me off balance. Morgenthal must have felt seriously threatened if he was making attempts on my family members. Well, ex-family members. I wondered what his affiliation was to this strange guy Erebus Loki? And most importantly, how did Loki know Morgenthal would be trying to kill my ex-wife Gudrun? This was seriously weird. On top of that, I had to watch my own back, and my daughter’s back too. And I needed to help my daughter Sophia to solve the school bullying problem. In addition, I was trying to establish a reasonable relationship with Dr. Jane Lockerby, and it seemed to be working well so far. I needed to find something valuable for Ivanov, so he would give me Morgenthal. And of course, first and foremost, I had to find Ron Morgenthal, dead or alive, although it didn't really matter that much if he was alive or dead, as he was going to be dead anyway for what he was trying to do to Gudrun. I would interrogate him first though. And my principal in this case, Dermot Clenaghan from Research & Execution, wouldn't mind him dead either. It's just numbers that mattered to him – he wanted 1 Ron Morgenthal delivered to him.

  That was quite a few irons in the fire. That was quite a lot on my shoulders to deal with.

  I took out the visiting card that Erebus Loki gave me. I dialed his phone number. I waited half a minute listening to the ring tone. No response. Will try again later.

  My phone was vibrating. It was Dr. Jane.

  "Hi Mike, are you in Pittsburgh by any chance?" she started the conversation.

  "No, in Philadelphia. Anything interesting going on in Pittsburgh?"

  "No, I just thought you would invite me to dinner, but since you're not here..." she sounded disappointed.

  "I could be there tomorrow morning, we can organize something together."

  "I’m working till 4pm tomorrow, but I'd love to have dinner with you in the evening, if you’re okay with that?" she said. She seemed very enthusiastic about the prospect.

  "Great, I'll pick you up from your place at six, okay?"

  "Be there at seven, I need some time to freshen up."

  "You need three hours for that?" I asked incredulously.

  "I need to get home first. But, in case you didn't know, women need much more time to prep themselves for a date. You guys just need to pee, brush your teeth and put on fresh pants, shirt and jacket. Mike, do you really know nothing about life?" she asked. The question was highly inconvenient.

  "I used to be married, but it was a long time ago, I must have forgotten how it was," I laughed, although it wasn't that funny. Did I really know that little about women? I wondered.

  "You'll find out all about it in due course," she comforted me. I just hoped she wasn’t talking marriage yet.

  "Great, see yo
u at seven at your place tomorrow."

  "Mike," she whispered hesitatingly.

  "Yes."

  "And afterward, we can go to my house, would you like to?"

  "Sure I would," I exclaimed, hoping she would like it too.

  "Or we could do the nice thing first and then go for dinner?"

  "Suits me as well," I smiled.

  "See you tomorrow then," she ended the phone call.

  I dialed Martin's number.

  "Martin, I need a favor."

  "Listening, what's the story?"

  "My daughter, Sophia, has some problems at school."

  "And you want me to threaten some teachers or pupils?"

  "No, I'll do it myself. I need all the info you can get on the principal."

  "What's his name?"

  "Gerald van Klompf."

  "And the school?"

  "St. Eusebia Girls’ School, here in Philadelphia."

  "If he has something on his conscience, I'll have all that by tomorrow morning. I'll get our guys working on it right away and I'll ask Dermot from Research & Execution as well. His guys may find something too."

  "Thanks Martin. Can you arrange a flight for me? I can use a commercial one tomorrow, as I’m in no hurry."

  "Sure, consider it done."

  "Thanks."

  I went back home, undressed, took a shower. I poured half a glass of Thomas H. Handy Straight Rye Whiskey. I took a sip and mellowed out immediately. As if all my worries were gone. After I finished the first glass, I had some more Thomas H. Handy. It was really good, a unique taste. I browsed a newspaper, but there was nothing interesting, just some crap about banker's bonuses, again.

  23.

  NEXT DAY, I woke up early. For breakfast, I blended some yogurt with raspberries, walnuts, goji berries and pumpkin seeds as a starter, and then prepared scrambled eggs with chives and tomatoes. I topped the eggs with smoked salmon cut in thin stripes, and had some rough oatcakes with butter. After that I brewed some coffee to wake me up.