“Jake, she has our passports,” cried Meg, pointing at Madeleine, “And my cell phone. In her purse, I think.”
He swung up his left arm and aimed the umbrella like a sword at Madeleine’s head.
“Give your purse to Meg. Easy, now. I’ve never shot a woman before, but you can be my first. My first Nazi, too. I can almost hear Grandpa Nate cheering me on.”
Madeleine, muttering oaths, tossed her purse on the ground at Meg’s feet. Quickly, Meg scanned the contents, gathered her and her grandmother’s American passports and her cell phone. Nothing else looked relevant, so she tossed it scornfully back at Madeleine’s feet. Something else nagged at Meg.
“I know why you wanted to exploit my grandmother, but how did you find her? How did you get her involved again in all this Nazi crap?”
Madeleine sneered while Pierre tugged harshly on her arm and mumbled something under his breath. Not such a bad-ass anymore, he appeared anxious to leave. With one foot, he nudged a stunned Wolf to a sitting position. Jake moved around to point his pistol at all three.
“We found her easily enough after an old Irishman came around to one of our meetings, asking questions. I wrote to her until I could establish her true identity. Your grandmother was quite a find. Quite a feather in our cap!”
“You couldn’t leave her alone,” accused Meg, “You made her dig up her Nazi past and made her believe again!”
Madeleine drew herself up and shot Meg and Jake imperious looks of contempt. “We didn’t make her do anything. She’s never left the movement. We don’t call ourselves Nazis anymore, but we’re powerful and growing in numbers. Every year we grow stronger.”
“Yah, yah, one day you’ll rule the world. Enough of your fascist bullshit!” growled an angry Jake. “Get out of here before I change my mind! Those sirens you hear—I called them. Medics are on their way. The polizei, right behind them.”
Jake turned and watched the three Neo-Nazis retreat down the walkway toward the small gate along the street. They were cursing in Schweizer-Deutsch the entire way, Pierre shoving the furious Wolf before him. Maintaining control, Jake’s eyes never swerved from the couple and their young thug as he sidled up to Meg.
A klaxon sounded the arrival of an ambulance just outside the gate. The screeching of tires and pulsing strobe lights beyond the high wall sent the threesome hurrying out of the gate. Their rapid exit convinced Meg that the couple was wanted by the German police and Interpol.
Her grandmother continued to lie motionless on her side.
Meg felt like she’d been holding her breath for minutes. She inhaled deeply, then let out a long, shuddering breath. Her mind cleared a little more.
Meg’s fingers touched her grandmother’s neck. Her pulse was thready. Panic and pity churned together, making her woozy.
“She’s barely breathing. They’ve got her carry-on, Jake, with all her meds. In the black limo.”
His eyes glued to the gate, he dropped the umbrella.
“I’ll go meet the medics and check on your bags.”
He sprinted to the gate, then motioned at her. A minute later, he was back, nodding at Meg and carrying her grandmother’s and her carry-on bags. Their suitcases leaned against the wall by the gate. To her amazement, the Le Blancs had complied with Jake’s bidding. His pistol was no longer in sight as he snapped open his cell phone.
Fast on Jake’s heels strode uniformed medics in white shirts and black trousers. They barraged Meg with questions in German, then quickly switched to English when they realized she was American. Her mind and emotions in turmoil, she understood the basic message: Her grandmother’s heartbeat was weak and she wasn’t responding. They were giving her oxygen and taking her to the nearest hospital. Would she take the woman’s purse and other valuables with her? Would she and the man follow in their own car?
Another siren alerted Meg. It sounded nearby, then faded. For a moment, while the medics attended to her grandmother, Meg watched, aware with half her mind that Jake’s back was turned. She had no idea whom he’d called but she hoped it wasn’t MI5, alerting them to their whereabouts. A moment later, Jake snapped shut his cell phone, then gave his full attention to her and her grandmother. Sick with worry, Meg’s head swam and she listed to the side. Jake caught her around the shoulders. Leaning her head into his body, she let loose with another stream of hot tears. The emergency team placed her grandmother on a gurney and carried her down the walkway to the gate.
“Meg, the polizei have put out a bulletin on the black limo. I identified myself and told them about the kidnapping. You’ll have to verify it and possibly press charges if they’re caught. They don’t know about your grandmother’s identity so let’s keep mum about that. Okay?”
Meg understood and nodded. She let Jake support her with a strong arm, welcomed because her knees felt rubbery.
“I called your uncle, Commander Snider, yesterday from Dublin. Just called him again, told him you both were safe but that his mother’s very ill. He’s in transit to Germany.”
Uncle John—who possibly knew the true identity of her grandmother—was coming. Thank God! She’d felt overwhelmed by everything that had transpired this past week. Slowly, her heart rate returned to normal and she calmed down. Relief flooded her and new tears leaked from her eyes. She felt foolish but couldn’t will them to stop.
Thanks to Jake, they were safe! For the moment, anyway.
When her weeping subsided once they were in his rental car, following the white and red ambulance, Meg stared at him. He wore two-day old stubble on his face, looking haggard and depleted.
“You tracked us? Does MI5 know where we are?”
“All the way from Berlin. It was good luck they never saw me.” He glanced over and shot her a reassuring smile. “No, I ditched the Brits and came alone.”
“Are you in trouble, Jake? For helping us?”
“With MI5, maybe. Not the FBI. I squared it with my supervisor, ADD. Thompson. Your uncle, Admiral Snider, contacted DOJ and DOD, did most of the work for us to smooth things over. I convinced the FBI to give me the approval to track you on my own. It wasn’t exactly by the book, but we felt justified in spinning it our way. I’m usually by the book—” He glanced over at Meg. “Well, not this time. I made an exception in your case.”
“Oh, Jake, how can I thank you?”
“No need,” he said, smiling, “but I don’t think MI5’ll be asking for any more favors in the near future, and they won’t be reciprocating anytime soon. Here’s the deal, Meg. You and your uncle’ll have to get your grandmother back to the States as soon as possible. Before Interpol and MI5 come swooping in.” He frowned, turning the wheel as the ambulance took an abrupt left into a hospital driveway. “Speaking of tracking, where did you hide that GPS beacon?”
She grimaced. “You don’t want to know.”
He swerved into the nearest parking stall and stopped.
“No, I really need to know. Professional curiosity. And I need it back in case MI5 catches up to us.”
She told him. Jake stifled a laugh with a cough.
“You should join the Bureau. You’re a natural.”
In a rush of appreciation, she seized his hand and brought it to her lips. Kissed his big knuckles, then let his hand go. “You really want it back?”
He laughed again. “’Fraid so. When you get the chance…y’know.”
“You didn’t let me down,” she breathed, watching his expression.
Poor Jake. Exhaustion lined his face and the dark shadow of stubble made him look like he hadn’t slept in days. Nevertheless, Joy flooded her chest and warmed her. Tears threatened again but she managed to keep them in check.
“I promised you, Meg.” He threw her a quick smile before opening his door. “I keep my promises.”
Some men did keep their promises. Men like Jake.
Men like Jacob Bernstein didn’t let you down.
Chapter Forty-Three
“The truth is, Agent Bernstein, I didn’t kno
w what to believe. She told me about Clare Eberhard and the Nazi spy, Hummingbird, two years ago, when she started getting phone calls from this Madeleine Le Blanc. But I thought it was just her old age talking. Y’know, mild dementia playing tricks on her mind. Maybe the story coming from an old movie she saw. I ignored it because I couldn’t believe it possible.”
Commander John Snider shook his head in sorrow. “All this time, she was living a lie. Covering up her past. Living in fear that she’d be discovered.” His eyes swimming with unshed tears, the Navy admiral cleared his throat, embarrassed at his emotional display in front of a stranger.
Jake made a curt nod, wondering whether Meg’s Uncle John was revealing all he knew. He didn’t know and didn’t care. What happened now was out of his hands. The FBI would be in touch with MI5 as soon as Mary Snider, alias Clare Hillenbrand Eberhard, returned to the U.S. No doubt I.C.E. and the State Department would get involved and there would be another investigation, possibly hearings. Possible deportation and criminal charges brought by the Federal Republic of Germany’s War Crimes unit of the Deutsch Bundesriegerung.
He’d enabled Commander Snider to get legal counsel for his mother and that was all that mattered. One Navy man to another, Jake had extended the man and his family a courtesy based on a timeless code. A code of honor which superceded all others, as far as Jake was concerned. He owed Meg and her uncle that much.
If Mary McCoy Snider, or Clare Hillenbrand Eberhard Snider, was eventually brought to trial for war crimes, it wasn’t up to him or the FBI. Another organization would determine the woman’s fate.
“I’m just glad,” Admiral Snider continued, “you contacted me and told me my mother and Meg had been abducted, how you were tracking them. I’m afraid in MI5’s hands, there would’ve been a media circus. Like vultures, the tabloids would’ve dined on this scandal for months. There’s a possibility I would’ve lost my command. Maybe more. The Navy—well, you can imagine the fallout. They wanted this hushed up as much as I.”
“I’m happy I could help,” Jake said. He meant it.
Assistant Deputy Director Thompson, Jake’s boss, had approved his contacting the decorated Navy commander days ago when it was certain that the Brits were closing in. With the Pentagon brass’s approval, the case was now classified and they’d kept Commander Snider’s reputation and career intact.
The Brits, MI5’s Major Temple included, didn’t like it one damn bit, but for the present, they were kept at bay. For a while. The major had learned more and had called Jake with the news. The Le Blancs had eluded the German police but Interpol agents were hustling to pick up their trail. Disappointed that Jake had let them go, the man had telegraphed his anger over the phone line. When the circumstances were explained, the Brit had calmed down, but Jake could hear him take out his frustration on his pipestem.
The Le Blancs, one of the couple’s many aliases, hadn’t been on any of Interpol’s criminal databases. However, their photos matched those of a wealthy German Swiss couple by the name of Brommer. Red-flagged by Interpol, the Brommers held elegant fundraisers in a number of European locales for various extreme right-wing causes. They had a post-office box number in Zurich but their residence was unknown.
When they surfaced, either agency would pounce. Still, Jake had to admit to himself, something about this case was missing.
In the hospital waiting room, Meg mentioned what she’d learned about the Le Blancs while she was their captive: a diary belonging to a woman named Sarah, and Madeleine’s father taking possession of this diary for the purposes of blackmail—actually, money for their fascist causes. When Jake passed on this information to Major Temple, the man was ecstatic. Here was the key to the blackmail scheme that had plagued the Earl of Wexford’s family for two generations. At least, now MI5 knew where to search.
Retribution? Well, there was no doubt in his mind that Clare Eberhard had suffered greatly. Both mentally and physically. She had learned that she had lost her entire German family. But, technically, she’d escaped the legal justice she deserved.
Redemption? Who was he to judge that? In raising an American patriot, Commander John Snider, and guiding both Meg and her brother, Jack, to be law-abiding citizens and caring individuals, Jake supposed Clare had redeemed herself, in a way.
But did that make up for all the deaths she and her husband, Horst Eberhard, had caused? A higher power would be the judge of that, he concluded philosophically.
“Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” Admiral Snider proposed, “and you can tell me about your Navy SEAL days.”
The commander lifted his Navy officer’s cap and placed it on his head. The man was shorter than Jake by a few inches but carried his slim build with full military bearing. Dark-hair flecked with gray, he resembled his American father more than his German-born mother. Yet, he had the symmetrical features and pleasant smile that made Clare and Meg such pretty women.
Jake nodded, suppressing the urge to give a Navy salute, and was about to fall in beside the man when a tall, stocky nurse appeared at the doorway of Clare’s hospital room.
“Please, come and sit with Frau Snider,” she urged Jake in German. “Only you, Herr Bernstein. For the moment, she wants to see only you.”
Jake threw a puzzled look at Admiral Snider, shrugging his shoulders and implicitly asking for the man’s permission.
“Go ahead, Jake, if I may call you that. I’ll get some coffee and bring some back to Meg. She must be exhausted. She hasn’t left my mother’s side since yesterday.”
They all were exhausted, Jake realized. He and Meg had been at Clare’s bedside, rotating in and out, maintaining a vigil for over twenty hours. While the nurses fed the old woman intravenously, monitored her vital signs, and explained the effects of a series of mini strokes, they’d waited for Meg’s uncle to fly in from San Diego. Jake had gone to meet him at the airport that morning. Meg’s half-brother was flying in later that day from San Francisco. At long last, Jake was looking forward to taking a backseat in this family crisis.
When he entered the hospital room, Meg looked up. She was sitting in the same chair beside the bed as two hours ago, holding her grandmother’s hand, stroking it silently.
Such devotion! He loved her all the more for it. When Meg loved, it was deeply and to her very core. He was sure of that.
That quality in her bode well for him…he hoped.
The expression in her deep blue eyes changed from sorrow to warm approval. She communicated with them in a way she hadn’t before. Jake felt her love and gratitude emanating from them, and the naked emotion humbled him. At least, she no longer blamed him for what had happened. For that, he was relieved.
Meg rose and came to him. Her arms encircled his waist and she buried her face in his chest. She was exhausted to the point of dropping. He held her for a moment, happy to give her solace and comfort, aware her grandmother was watching them. He kissed her hair, then her temple.
Tearing his gaze away from Meg, he glanced over at Clare. She was fingering the hummingbird pin with her one good hand; her other hand lay lifeless, paralyzed, as was the entire left side of her body. One side of her face dragged down, marring the last of her attractive looks. It was as if one side of a wax image of her face had melted.
Despite his own deep feelings of indignation against the spy he knew as Clare Eberhard, Jake felt sorry for the woman, Mary Snider, who’d raised Meg—the young woman he’d hopelessly fallen head over heels in love with.
Meg took his hand and moved them over to the door, out of earshot of the elderly patient.
“Grandma wants to talk to you, Jake. She wants you to bring a recorder later tonight. She wants to give you her story.”
“Okay,” he said, “I’ve got a recorder with me. We can do it right now if she’s up to it.”
“Yes, now.” She moved out of his arms, darted him a tremulous, encouraging smile.
“I need a break right now. You talk to her, okay?” Meg fished something out of her pants pocket
and passed it to him. He took the tiny, cellophane-wrapped packet and enclosed it in his fist. “That horrible woman slipped that into Grandma’s coat pocket,” she whispered into Jake’s ear. “It’s a capsule of some kind. Poison, I think.”
“Sure.” He glanced at the little packet in his hand. The FBI lab would analyze it when he returned to Headquarters, but he’d bet a month’s paycheck that Meg was right. Probably cyanide. That Le Blanc/Brommer woman wanted Clare to commit suicide. Like a good Nazi should.
He held Meg back for a moment longer.
“Does your grandmother know I’m a federal agent?”
Meg leaned into him and whispered in his ear, “I told her you’re an FBI agent, you’re my boyfriend and you’re courting me. Would that be an accurate statement, Agent Bernstein?”
He suppressed a surprised laugh with his fist. Still smiling, he slipped a small, white box into Meg’s hand.
“You bet,” he said. When she opened it, her eyes widened. “Bernstein is also the German word for amber. It literally means warm stone.”
She took out the gold chain with the yellow-colored amber pendant attached and hooked it around her neck. “This isn’t your way of saying goodbye, is it?”
“Hell, no.” He was taken aback that she’d regard the gift in that way. “No way. This is only the beginning.”
He was thinking in terms of Clare’s recovery and possible war crimes trial. He’d be called to testify against the old woman, which naturally would stir up Meg’s resentment. There were still many hurdles for him and Meg to jump over before they could have a normal relationship. He wasn’t counting on anything going smoothly.
“This is…uh, just in case we don’t see each other for awhile.”
“I see. Thank you, Jake, I love it.” A shadow passed over her face a second before she kissed him lightly on the lips. Then she left the room.
Jake approached the elderly woman’s bed, confusion creasing his forehead. Did he say something wrong? Meg hadn’t sounded entirely pleased although it was apparent she liked the gift. Maybe he should’ve given her a definite time frame for their meeting again. But the hospital environment and the situation with Meg’s grandmother had discouraged him from committing to anything more.
A Bodyguard of Lies Page 35