“He’s in there. Go on in. I’m sure he’ll be pleased you’re back.” Greta eyed the blonde woman, miffed that she knew nothing about this new hire. She handled all new hires. It was her job and Knudson knew this. She wondered what the old bastard was up to. They had no need for any new talent at this time.
“Can I get you all something? Coffee? Water?” Ever the good hostess, Greta asked.
Paul, remembering his role, said, “I need some water.”
Outside on the opposite side of the street, Oleson pulled the earpiece out of his left ear, and gave Limmer the thumbs-up. Limmer spoke into his two-way receiver and gave the order for the tactical unit to move in closer but stay out of sight. Now, they must wait until the trio exited the building.
Chapter Twenty-Five
PAUL GAVE “NADIA” AND “Antonio” a look that asked ready? They returned his look with imperceptible nods. Anthony held tightly to Sarah’s hand. He had no intention of letting it go. The sooner they got out of here, the better. He had a bad feeling about it in the pit of his stomach. Again, Paul took the lead and walked to the wooden door that led into his uncle’s office. He knocked twice and waited. His uncle was anal about people just walking in without invitation.
“Enter,” a gruff voice barked from inside.
Paul walked in and Sarah and Anthony followed. As they turned right beyond the door, Paul began to speak, but was instantly cut off by his uncle.
“You!” Peter Knudson’s face turned thunderous as his eyes settled on Anthony.
Anthony took one look at the dark eyebrows, white goatee, and broad shoulders and instantly recognized Paul’s uncle as the same man he stared down at the dock—the same man who he had photographic evidence of beating a young male hustler in Berlin. The same man who now had a fourteen-year-old boy that he kidnapped out of his own home.
“Fuck me! You?” Anthony moved to stand in front of Sarah quickly. Paul looked back and forth between his uncle and Anthony, clearly confused, and alarmed.
“What is the meaning of this, nephew? Who is this, and why have you brought him into my office?” Knudson turned his ominous visage upon Paul, all traces of the charm he could exude when he so wished vanished from his countenance.
Paul, thinking to try and salvage some of their cover story launched into his explanation. “This is Antonio. He’s Nadia’s man.” He waited for his uncle to offer his own explanation as to how he seemed to know Anthony.
Peter’s eyebrows lowered further over his ice-gray eyes, indicating the answer did not please him. He spoke low and slow. “And who is Nadia, Paul?” He waited for his nephew to continue as he deliberately walked back behind his desk where he pulled a drawer open and reached inside.
Paul watched his uncle, feeling nauseated and realizing this was all falling apart fast. “That’s Nadia.” He tossed a glance over at Sarah, who was standing behind Anthony. “She’s your new hire.” He placed his hands on his hips and tried for casual sarcasm. “Remember? I texted you about her.”
Knudson had yet to take his hand out of the drawer and straighten up. He stood with one palm flat on the desk and the other hand out of sight, menacing and coiled like a snake about to strike. A slow smirk spread across his lips. “Is that so?” He turned to Sarah. “You’re the Italian, yes? Si sculacciare gli uomini per vivere, vero?” (You spank men for a living, do you?) He waited.
Sarah, knowing she hadn’t understood a word he just said, went with a shrug. Her heart was racing. Anthony, who did understand Italian since it was spoken still in his parents’ home, answered for her.
“No. Fa niente del genere. Ma tu...tu sei un vigliacco, un bastardo che ama i ragazzini.” (No. She does no such thing. But you...you are a coward, a bastard who likes little boys.) The expression on Anthony’s face warned of murderous intent. He knew the jig was up, and was going south fast.
“A bastard, am I? A coward!” Peter stood up raising a Luger in his right hand and aimed it at Anthony.
“Uncle, no!” Paul spoke up, trying to distract and diffuse the situation. “What is this? How is it you two seem to know each other?”
“I caught your uncle eyeing two little boys just a couple of days ago down on the dock.” Anthony spat out the words. Knudson, if at all possible, looked even more evil as his smirk turned to a full-fledged smile that was at odds with the hateful look in his eyes. That look quickly turned to surprise and stunning outrage as Anthony made another revelation. “I also caught him on camera beating a young male hooker nearly to death with his cane in Berlin about six months ago.”
“That was you?” Knudson’s voice was almost too soft to hear, but the sinister tone didn’t escape anyone’s notice.
He worked to compose himself. His nephew had brought this man into his office under false pretenses. He didn’t know what Paul was up to, but he knew there was one more lie to expose, and then he had a decision to make about this monumental betrayal.
Peter turned his malevolent gaze upon “Nadia.” “And what, exactly, is your purpose here...Miss Sarah Brown?” Paul’s mouth fell open. He knew then they were fucked. His uncle must’ve had him followed. Gruber had obviously been in Berlin doing more than just planning a kidnapping. Peter continued. “Just last night you were on a romantic date with my dear, pathetic nephew, and now I see you hiding behind this man who seems ready to defend you to the death? You do get around, don’t you? Perhaps you would make a decent hoeren for my brothel.”
Outside, Limmer, Oleson, and Touchard scrambled to come up with a plan B as they listened to what was going down three floors up. They were found out, and now Christiansen, Sarah, and De Luca were in real danger. Heinz stepped outside the vehicle while Touchard spoke rapidly on the two-way with Limmer. He pulled out his last cigarette and lit it. Inhaling deeply, he blew out the smoke and stared up at the three-story structure.
Inside, Anthony saw red. Hearing that Sarah had been on a date with the pretty-boy next to him had him ready to rip Paul’s head off. Seeing Knudson pointing a gun at Sarah and calling her a whore had him mentally fantasizing about bashing the old bastard’s face in until only a bloody pulp remained. Knowing the evil fuck still had the kid lit the fuse, and Anthony roared as he ran straight at the man intent on disarming him, then pounding him into the floor.
Caught off guard, Peter stepped back, stumbling a bit. He raised his arm to aim at the enraged bull of a man charging him and fired. POP! The Lugar fired poorly afield and the bullet slammed into Anthony’s left shoulder. He went down just short of reaching the old man.
“Anthony!” Sarah screamed and ran to his side, trying to staunch the flow of blood oozing from the bullet wound. Peter reached down and grabbed a fistful of Sarah’s hair, yanking her up. She screamed in pain. “Let me go!” She began to kick, then stopped when she felt the hot tip of the gun burn against her temple.
“You’d be wise to settle down, Miss Brown.” Peter looked to Paul and barked, “Help that one up. We’re getting out of here. If you make one single wrong move, I’ll put a bullet through her head.”
“Uncle, please. She’s innocent. Let her go and take me.” Paul looked at Sarah and cringed at the fear in her eyes.
“Care about her, do you,” Peter asked.
“Yes. Yes, I care. Please, just let her go.” Paul pleaded for Sarah’s release.
“I don’t think so, nephew. You see, you’ve let me down. Betrayed me. You deprived me of something I cared about long ago, and again, recently when you fucked up a simple recruiting mission, tearing another angel away from me. I can’t let that pass.” The maniacal look in Peter’s eyes told Paul he would have to tread carefully. On the floor, Anthony clutched his shoulder, trying to stem the bleeding and alleviate the pain. He watched as nephew and uncle circled each other verbally. He kept his eyes on Sarah too. He knew the moment he had a chance, he was going to kill that miserable bastard.
“You can’t just take a boy away from his family, Uncle. You can’t do that. Please, just tell us where Anno is, and the
n I’ll come with you anywhere you want to go. I’ll protect you. Just let everyone else go. Please. I love you, Uncle.” Paul added the last as his voice broke, and the child inside him, the one trapped forever within a nightmare came to the fore.
“I love you, too, but it’s too late, Paul. You’re all grown up now, and you know how much I despise that. But you will come with me. All of you will, now get moving!” He jerked Sarah’s hair, eliciting a loud yelp of pain from her.
“I’m going to kill you, you motherfucker!” Anthony rose unsteadily to his knees as Paul leaned down on his right side to help him stand.
“You can try, ‘Antonio,’ but she’ll be dead before you get within ten feet of me. Tut, tut. Don’t want that now, do you?”
Knudson waved Paul and Anthony ahead of him and followed, forcing Sarah along with her neck cocked at a difficult and painful angle. The gun remained pointed at her head. As they entered the outer office, Paul noticed that Daniel and Greta had fled. Fuck! Does no one think to call the police? And where the hell are they? Didn’t they hear all that downstairs? Where’s the fucking cavalry? Paul looked down at his shirt, thinking of the wire beneath. He hoped it was still on. He looked back at Anthony, who was bleeding steadily. He reached for a handkerchief in his jacket pocket and handed it to the man, not that it would do much good, but he didn’t want him to die. Sarah would never forgive him if he let the American bleed out.
“Thanks.” Anthony snatched at the cloth and wadded it up, shoving it onto the wound. It hurt like hell, but seemed to be slowing down. He glanced back at Sarah, wanting desperately to take her into his arms and protect her. The sight of the gun pressed to her head kept him conscious and walking. He prayed an opportunity would present itself so he could get her safely away.
Sarah caught Anthony’s eye through the blur of tears in her own. The pain she felt in her scalp was nothing to the pain in her heart seeing Anthony go down when the bullet hit him. She thought for a moment he was dead. When she realized he’d been shot in the shoulder, a portion of her terror subsided to be replaced with sickening concern and a driving need to help him.
“Down the back stairs, Paul.” Peter pointed toward an alternate stairwell used only by the staff.
Paul had reached a point where he would no longer beg, whine, or allow fear to rule him. He was through. His uncle was obviously out of his mind. His only concern now was to save both Sarah and Anno.
“Where are we going, Uncle?” Paul began descending the back steps.
“To my car. You’ll drive.” Peter quickly reached into his pocket where he grabbed his keys and tossed them at Paul’s head. Sarah experienced a momentary relief before that large hand was back pulling her hair.
Not expecting this, the keys flew past him, and landed a few steps down. Paul leaned down as he approached and picked them up.
“I want to see Anno. I need to know he’s okay.” Sarah, feeling some fight return to her, spoke up.
Peter yanked her hair harshly. “Shut up, bitch. You’ll be seeing him soon.” They reached the ground floor landing and exited out the back.
Sarah now had an idea of where they were going. She hoped Touchard and Limmer heard all that through Paul’s wire. It was their only hope. With any luck, they would follow. If they didn’t, if for any reason the wire wasn’t strong enough to transmit outside of the building or across whatever distance they happened to be apart, then any chance of being rescued was out the door, and Anthony could die. They all could, because Peter Knudson had crossed the line from vicious pedophile to desperate criminal intent on murder; at least that seemed his intent when he shot Anthony.
Rain that threatened earlier began to fall in earnest as Knudson forced everyone into his vehicle. Paul was to drive with Anthony sharing the front seat, and Sarah was shoved in the back where Peter climbed in next to her, never once lowering the Luger. As Paul started the car and put it in gear, a man with graying hair at his temples strolled past on the sidewalk smoking a cigarette. He barely glanced in their direction seeming to be lost in thought.
Paul looked over at Anthony who kept his eyes forward. Sweat trickled down the side of his face from the exertion of trying to remain conscious and focused while fighting through the pain in his shoulder. Paul hesitated a moment longer and then pulled onto the road. Behind them, a car drove up and pulled over to the curb. The gentleman tossed his cigarette down and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Well?” Touchard asked as he rejoined the traffic.
“De Luca’s been shot. Looks like an arm or shoulder wound. Christiansen is driving, and Knudson has Miss Brown in the backseat...at gun point.”
“Shit!” Touchard grabbed his two-way and relayed the information to Limmer. An electronic sound beeped at regular intervals as they drove. Heinz looked down at the screen sitting on the console between them.
“Signal’s strong. How far back can we remain without losing it?” He glanced at the side view mirror and saw Limmer’s car come up behind them, then pass and take the lead. It was unmarked, which helped keep them from being spotted.
“Usually, it matters not, but in this weather...” Touchard looked up at the dark, cloudy skies releasing a torrent of rain that had him upping the speed of his windshield wipers. “...in this weather, it could be a problem. Those bugs depend upon 3D triangulation from satellites, and you know what happens to anything receiving a signal from a satellite during a downpour.”
Heinz blew out a frustrated breath. “Can Oleson still hear anything coming from the wire? Maybe he can at least get some idea where they’re headed just in case.” A detective was always thinking ahead.
“Good thought.” Touchard radioed Oleson. “Timon, come in. Over.”
“Oleson here. Go ahead. Over.” Static crackled through the speaker.
“Timon, are you still able to pick up any conversation inside the car? Over.” Touchard opened the vent to let in the air as the window fogged up.
“We’re monitoring. Over.” Static.
“Listen for any clues as to where they might be going in the event we lose satelitte connection from the storm. Over.”
“We’re on it. Over and out.” Oleson signed off to get back to monitoring the inside of Knudson’s car.
Ahead, Paul drove not knowing where he was supposed to be heading. “Where are we going, Uncle?”
“Turn right at the next corner and then take the first left.” Peter kept his eyes on all three, but he knew he had only to control the one to keep them all in line—the girl. Both his nephew and this ‘Antonio’ or Anthony cared for her, cared about what happened to her. He’d keep the immediate threat on her until they got to their destination. She would get to see young Anno one last time.
Paul followed the directions. They were in an industrial neighborhood near the wharf. “Now what?”
“The red brick warehouse on the right. Pull into the side alley, and then stop the car.”
Paul did as bid, then turned off the engine. The sound of the rain grew louder without the car running. “What is this place,” he asked as he eyed the building. He knew nothing about this, and he knew all of his uncle’s buildings; at least, so he thought.
“It’s one of my businesses. A sort of studio, if you will. Now, get out, everyone, and no nonsense.” He yanked Sarah from the backseat into the rain, causing her to scream and then curse.
Anthony grew weaker on the ride over and had trouble standing. Paul came around to offer his arm to lean on. Everyone quickly became soaked as Knudson indicated they should enter through the side door.
A spark burned Paul’s chest and he grabbed at the wire, trying to rip it away without being noticed. It had gotten wet and electronics never behave when wet. Anthony saw this and deliberately stumbled, reaching out to wrap his good arm around Paul’s waist.
“Get up, and walk!” Peter barked out the order. Sarah noticed something was going on, so she tried to distract the man. “He’s hurt, you bastard! Can’t you see that? You shot him. You
shot him!” She let herself get a little hysterical and then began to cry loudly. Knudson hated crying women, and turned his attention to her.
“Shut your gaping hole, woman, or I’ll shut it for you with this!” He slid the gun from her temple until the tip forced its way into her open mouth. Sarah stopped immediately, knowing he had not seen Anthony remove the wire from under Paul’s shirt and stuff it into his pocket where it wouldn’t be exposed to wet skin.
“Now walk! Go straight down the corridor and turn left.” They entered into a large, open space filled with massive metal equipment. The high ceiling was mostly scaffolding overhead, and the floor, concrete. As they approached the far side, their ears picked up the tones of soft music. Childish music, like the kind one hears in fairytale movies.
Around the back of a rusted vat sat a stuffed chair, a side table, a bed, and a video camera on a tripod. In the chair, Aleks Gruber lounged leafing through an old magazine on mechanics. On the bed lay Anno, turned on his side. As they approached, he rolled over to see who was coming in. He sat up slowly, fearfully. Then he saw her.
“Sarah! Sarah, you’re here!” Anno started to get up, and Gruber jumped up and pushed him back onto the bed.
“Sit your ass down!” Gruber pulled out his handgun from his backside where it was holstered in the waistband of his jeans. He aimed it at Paul and Anthony.
Anno’s face was a mess of tears and misery. Sarah’s heart broke and she tugged and pulled until Peter let go. She ran to the boy and wrapped her arms around him.
Peter looked at the boy and was moved by the child’s tears. He was mesmerized by his angelic looks, and wanted to be the one he clung to, not the damn woman!
“What’s this, boss?” Gruber asked Knudson as he looked from him to the two men and the woman.
“Change of plans. Still, it could all work out rather well.” Peter stood watching the boy as if hypnotized.
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 20