Jacques checked his iPhone calendar. “You lucked out. I’m between assignments.”
“This should only take a couple of days. I want to check Kurt Brandt’s apartment. Did you hear his wife was a hit and run victim?”
“No. Do you suspect foul play?”
“I do, and Kurt may be in danger. We need to find out if he took a binder from his father’s safe, and if he did, what was in it.”
“Understand. Where are you?”
“I can be at Dulles International in two hours for a six o’clock Lufthansa flight to Munich. Can you meet me there?”
“Of course. Why me and not Ian or Desiree?”
“Both of them are unavailable for the next few days, and your skills would actually be better suited.”
“For a burglary.”
“Yes, but we won’t take anything.”
“I’m in.”
Serena ended her cell phone connection. She didn’t believe Kurt would destroy whatever he took out of the safe in the jungle house. The sniffer had confirmed the safe had held a plastic binder and a stash of Euros. The binder Karl kept in the jungle house safe, instead of the laboratory safe, might provide some leads into the terrorist society he belonged to. During his months in Guantanamo, Karl had not given away any of his co-conspirators, or shed any light on their activities.
As they walked down the hallway of Kurt’s apartment house, Serena whispered, “Moira informed me that Kurt will be at the hospital for the next 47 hours. He sleeps on a cot in the intern’s quarters during his six hour breaks between his twelve hour shifts, and she doesn’t think anyone else will be in the apartment, so all we have to do is get in, and get out, without being observed . . . or leave any telltale indications someone broke in.”
Jacques listened at Kurt’s apartment door while Serena attacked the simple apartment door lock with her hook and eye burglar tools. She had the door open in four seconds.
The apartment looked like the occupant was a single young man who had recently lost the love of his life, with clothes, newspapers, magazines, empty fast food wrappers and containers, and probably every dish Leora had collected in her short life strewn across sofa, coffee table, and floor in careless fashion. Having just lost his wife and unborn child, it was a wonder the apartment wasn’t in greater disarray, with punched in walls and kicked down doors, and that Kurt wasn’t laying in a pool of grief feeling sorry for himself on the floor, instead of completing his internship at the medical school hospital.
Serena sympathized with his situation. Maybe he was made of stronger stuff than she would have guessed. Maybe work and study was all that could help him maintain his grip on life. After all, Kurt had not missed a beat in completing his internship, taking only 3 days off from the hospital to attend Leora’s cremation slash funeral, and recover from a day long drinking binge.
She would have liked to know his state of mind, anger, grief, sense of loss, maybe all of the above, but she could not approach him directly. He would recognize her as the woman he met in the Cuban bar, and then briefly again when she arrested Karl. He would suspect her intentions if he saw her. She would remind him of his father’s imprisonment and his grandfather’s death. Breaking into his apartment was their last, and only, resort to find out how wide and deep the Brandt’s conspiracy ran.
Serena had observed that people hide things in the most obvious places, and Kurt was probably like most people. Serena could toss a place in minutes all by herself, and leave no telltale signs. Having Jacques assist was mostly her wanting his company, but four eyes were better than two. Serena and Jacques methodically searched the closets, cabinets, dresser, under the bed, and between the mattress and box springs.
Whispering, “Bingo,” Jacques removed six clear zip-lock baggies of Euros from between the mattress and box springs. Jacques held up one of the baggies for Serena to see. He hefted one of the five full baggies, studied its contents, and said, “I’m guessing these six bags hold between 150 and 200,000 Euros, given the number of packets of one hundred and two hundred Euro denominations. Kurt may have spent a few thousand Euros from the one bag that’s not completely full.”
Serena nodded agreement and continued her search for the binder. “Put the money back exactly as you found it. The money indicates Kurt also probably took the binder, and likely still has it hidden somewhere in the apartment.” Serena dug through a stack of bankers’ boxes in the closet. She pulled out the bottom box and set it on the foot of the bed. The box was full of medical books, which she placed methodically in a pile on the bed, so she could replace them in the original order, until she uncovered a white plastic three ring binder at the bottom of the box. She opened the binder to the first page labeled ‘Select.’ She thumbed through the pages and found three sections labeled, ‘A History,’ ‘The Mission,’ and ‘Members.’ She glanced briefly at the pages and whistled a low note, “Jacques, this is what we’ve been looking for. Break out the camera.”
Jacques pulled a stainless steel micro-camera from his shirt pocket. Serena turned the pages one at a time while Jacques photographed each one. They worked fast, quietly and efficiently, like a human Xerox machine until all sixty pages were captured at twenty megapixels per inch resolution.
Serena replaced the Select binder at the bottom of the bankers’ box and the rest of the books on top of it exactly as they were, and then replaced the box at the bottom of the stack in the closet. Serena exited the closet and motioned for Jacques to follow her out of the apartment. Only after they drove away in Jacques’ BMW rental did they speak to each other.
“That went well,” Jacques said as he turned on the BMW’s MP3 player to Jim Croce’s greatest hits on low speaker volume.
Serena reached over and turned the audio down even lower, “I think we found what we wanted.”
“Yes. I put the 200,000 Euros in my pocket,” Jacques teased with his Wicked, Wicked Ways Errol Flynn grin.
Serena ignored his attempt at humor. “No, dummy, the Select binder. The Brandt’s operation wasn’t limited to the two of them. The Select extends to many rich and powerful people.”
“Well, I don’t feel as sorry for him now, as I did this morning,” Jacques stated.
“We suspected he took a bundle of cash and a plastic binder, so our suspicions have been confirmed. Seems like he could’ve been living a grander lifestyle with all that money,” Serena said.
“Unless someone realized he had it hidden under the mattress and robbed him. He couldn’t very well put all that money in the bank.”
“I wonder about Leora’s so called accident. A group that calls itself the Select might not deem a female Indian nurse warrants membership in their society. If Leora’s so called accident was an intentional hit and run, we need to find out who did it and why.”
Jacques parked the BMW in the Novotel Hotel’s underground parking area and the two of them rode the elevator to the eleventh floor. Jacques followed Serena to her room which was connected to his via an interior door. Jacques turned on the room’s flat screen TV to a medium sound level to mask their discussion in case they were being observed. Serena had checked both their rooms for audio and video bugs when they first checked in and repeated the process again.
Satisfied they were secure, they sat on the couch, faced the computer screen to a blank wall and Serena plugged the camera into her Apple notebook. The images of the Select pages came up clear with fine detail. The Photoshop software zoom in/zoom out feature allowed them to examine the pages to the pixel level for micro-inspection if information had been encoded on the pages, in the photos, or in the text.
They read each page of the Select material and studied every photograph. Conditioned by their operational paranoia, they still spoke in low voices. Jacques read slower than Serena, so she waited until he signaled he had completed each page before she turned to the next.
Once they had examined all the material, they stepped out onto the balcony and closed the sliding glass door.
Serena said, �
�The binder might not contain an up to date synopsis of all the members, but even though we may not have a complete list of all the members, and all the details we need on each of them, this is a dangerous organization of rich and powerful people. Their goals to wrest control of the world from, and I quote, ‘the spoilers and the undeserving’ gives them carte blanche to commit all sorts of terrorist acts against humanity. Our encounter with the Brandt’s is only one example of things to come. Besides trying to kill off everyone with deadly viruses, it appears the Brandt’s charter was to develop a fountain of youth potion, or serum.”
“I think it’s ironic they’re looking for a ‘fountain of youth’ to provide them with immortality. Little do they know what that’s like,” Jacques said with a note of sarcasm.
“I don’t think Karl’s imprisonment or Rolf’s demise will stop the effort.”
“Do you think they plan for Kurt to continue the effort?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. If Kurt didn’t know what his father and grandfather were up to all those years, he does now, since he took the binder and the cash,” said Serena.
“I give him the benefit of the doubt that he knew very little until the night we arrested Karl. Whether he intends to continue their work, or open a clinic for indigenous Brazilians, or run the pharmaceutical company, or all the above is anyone’s guess. I’m sure Leora’s death is having a huge impact on his future choices.”
“The dossiers hint that Karl intended for Kurt to marry Aloisia von Hapsburg, and Kurt seemed adamant when he told Karl he intended to marry Leora the night we arrested Karl. We need to check out the Hapsburgs, and their involvement in this Select group.”
“And dig into Leora’s death. I agree.”
Serena retrieved two 64 gigabyte thumb drives out of her carryon bag. She broke the images’ file into two parts, one containing the History and Mission of the Select, and the other containing the single page glossy dossiers of some of the members. She copied the page images onto the drives and deleted the images off her computer and her camera.
She handed one thumb drive to Jacques, and said, “We won’t share the contents of the Select Mission and History files with anyone, but I will take a copy of the dossiers to Alicia at the NSA and have her check out their backgrounds for us. We need to know everything about the Select members; what they’re doing, where they live, how they’re connected, and anything else Alicia can dig up on them from phone calls, email, and other Intel she may have.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I need you to stay here in Munich for the next couple of days. We have to find a way for you to get closer to Baron von Hapsburg and dig into Leora’s death.”
“Isn’t Leora’s death a job for the Munich police?”
“Not if her death is a part of the Select’s conspiracy. I’ll catch the next flight to Baltimore and meet with Alicia. We’ll work up an entrée to the Baron for you, and create your new ID. Just stay flexible for a few days and do some sightseeing. You should probably visit Colonel Beauchene in Paris.”
“He’s in semi- or full retirement. He may not be able to accommodate me anymore.”
“I’ll talk to the Chairman when I’m in D.C.”
“OK, I can do some Munich sightseeing in the meantime.”
“I know you can. Do us all a big favor when we work up your new ID.”
“What?”
“Shave off that beard. Kurt may recognize you if you run into him.”
“I doubt he’d recognize me, with the dark and briefness of our encounter . . . but I’ll shave it off. I’m kind of tired of it anyway.”
Sixteen
Kurt felt guilty about looking forward to his get-togethers with Aloisia, but not guilty enough to turn her down. Their respective schedules were still too busy for much interaction, but they managed to arrange as much time together as possible. They planned to meet for lunch at a small cafe near the hospital. Both had hinted to the other that they had something important they wanted to discuss.
Kurt assisted Aloisia with her chair and took his seat across from her. The waiter hovered over them expecting a quick drink order. “Two dry martinis, please, Justin,” Kurt requested.
“Dry martinis for lunch, this must be a serious lunch date,” Aloisia commented.
“Yes . . . can we wait ‘til we have our drinks before I begin?” Kurt asked.
“I’m too excited to wait to tell you my news. Do you mind if I start?”
“No, go ahead.”
“I talked to my father yesterday and told him I wanted to accompany you to Brazil to help set up your clinic.” Aloisia paused looking for Kurt’s response.
Kurt smiled and looked relieved as the waiter arrived with two martinis on a tray. The waiter placed one each in front of Kurt and Aloisia. “Would you like to order your food now?”
“Please bring our usual, Justin, and bottled water.”
“Very good, sir.” Justin walked away.
Kurt took a long swallow of his drink, not looking Aloisia in the eyes. “Well . . . how did your father respond?”
“He said, and I will try to quote, ‘if you’re set on doing charity work, I won’t stop you, even though every indigenous Brazilian is not worth one Aloisia.’”
“Sounds like your father,” Kurt replied and swallowed half of his drink in one long gulp. He thought, sounds like my father also. I wonder if some of the flu epidemics, like the one that wiped out the Umutina tribe, were started by my father, paid for by environmental rapists.
“I thought you would be excited,” Aloisia said with a slight twinge of disappointment in her voice.
“I am. Maybe too excited. Things are going so fast. I’ve just completed my internship and ready to practice in the real world, I’m suddenly single, and now one of the most desirable female doctors in the world has volunteered to help me start up a clinic in Brazil. I’m having trouble processing everything that’s happened in such a short time.”
“We have to take life a day at a time,” Aloisia took Kurt’s hand in hers and gave it a firm squeeze. “We have so much to contribute to the world, we must move forward.”
“You’re right.” Kurt sat up straight in his chair.
Justin arrived with their food, a bratwurst sandwich with a side of sauerkraut for Kurt, and a chicken Caesar salad for Aloisia, and two glasses of water.
“Justin, could we have two more martinis?” Kurt asked.
“Yes, sir. Are we celebrating something special today?”
“We are!” Kurt announced.
Aloisia protested, “I have barely touched my drink. I don’t know if I can drink two martinis with lunch.”
“Aloisia, please, humor me. . . Justin, two more drinks, please.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll be right back.”
Aloisia raised her glass, showed her support with a good sport downing of her martini in three swallows. “I was afraid you weren’t going to be a hundred percent behind my going to Brazil with you.”
“You stole my thunder. I was going to tell you I had booked two flights to Brazil for next Friday. I have a hundred details to go over with you about how we set up the clinic. Where to locate it, how large we should start out, do we hire some support staff, how many . . . and on and on,” Kurt’s thoughts tumbled out in rapid fire.
“Slow down cowboy, we’ll take it all in stride. You didn’t let me tell you everything. My father is also willing to provide some financial support to get us started.”
Kurt stared at Aloisia for a moment and studied her face. His smile faded. “What does he want in return?”
Aloisia hesitated and then blurted out, “He wants us to meet with a researcher in Sao Paulo and send him a report on the doctor’s progress.”
“What’s this researcher working on?”
“He’s continuing your father’s development of a longevity protocol.”
Kurt pushed his chair back away from the table.
“Please, Kurt, his work is strictly searc
hing for a way to prolong our life spans, not trying to develop some virulent disease. My father always believed in your father’s ability to someday develop a life span enhancing serum, or virus, or whatever, and would like to see the work continue. Your father was a brilliant man and it would be a shame to lose the progress he made. You do want me to help you with your clinic, don’t you?”
Kurt relaxed slightly in his chair, stared at his drink, considered his response, and finally said, “I haven’t been able to think of anything else these last few days, but I don’t want to continue my father’s development of plagues. I’m a trained healer, not a killer.”
“And neither am I. We can do so much good together. I don’t think my father would have given his permission to go if I turned down his request.” Aloisia paused to let her plea settle in. “Let’s talk about your ideas for the clinic.”
Kurt pushed his chair back to the table, picked up his knife and fork and cut off a chunk of the bratwurst and placed it in his mouth. The flavorful sausage helped put him back into a good mood. “I brought a map of the area around Sao Paulo, so we could pick out some potential clinic sites.” Kurt reached into his valise, pulled out a Sao Paulo area map, and laid it down on Aloisia’s side of the table.
Seventeen
Serena and desiree settled into the cushy chairs in Alicia’s executive level office at the NSA. “Nice digs you have, Alicia. You’re moving up in the world, a corner office with teak furniture,” Serena commented, looking around the supervisor level office.
“Yes, thanks to the four of you. Helping you appears to be doing me a lot of good. Every success you have seems to bring me a perk, or a promotion.”
“Perfect,” Serena said, “maybe you can take us all out for dinner at Supano’s Steak House some night. I’d love one of their Bogies 10-ounce dry age filet mignons.”
“The pan seared salmon Française sounds good to me,” added Desiree.
“OK, OK, let me know when you’re all available at one time, and we’ll do it. I love that place too. . . with Sinatra playing in the background while I eat my steak.”
The Noble Mercenary Page 18