The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set

by Michele E. Gwynn

  “Elsa, you said the older man was threatening you. Why?”

  She blew out a breath. “Before I became a police officer, I worked in an industry that although isn’t illegal, wouldn’t go over well with my captain. Somehow, Ivchencko found out. Well, because of some nosy, jealous bitch, he discovered my past career. He tried threatening me with that information, but why, I’m not sure. Something completely stupid about his prejudice toward women of color, my boyfriend, and how he doesn’t like changes in plans. The man is a psycho.”

  “It’s true. I think he’s also a germophobe. He is always going on about being clean. He keeps a jar of hand sanitizer over there by you. I think that’s why he only watches. He’s afraid to get his hands dirty.”

  Elsa chuckled darkly. “Great. I’m kidnapped by a psychotic clean freak. No wonder it was the other man who did the dirty work.” She looked down at herself noting her jacket, gun, and belt had been removed. It was dim in this room, one that was obviously somewhere in the basement. Her eyes had adjusted by now, so she cast them about, finally finding her items on a chair in the corner not too far from her left foot. Somewhere in her coat pocket was her cell phone. She prayed that Anno had called someone by now, hopefully Heinz. He would know what to do. If her phone was still on, and her kidnappers hadn’t discovered it and shut it off, then she could be traced. She just prayed it was still in the pocket, and that it wouldn’t ring. Even though it was on vibrate, it would be heard in this quiet room.

  “Liliya, how old are you?”

  “I’m seventeen.”

  She sounded young. The idea that she’d been caged down here for weeks suffering rape at the hands of an animal made her blood boil. What the hell was their deal, anyway, these two men? “What’s Greg’s connection to Ivchencko? Are they related?”

  “No. I thought the old man was family, at least, that’s what he led me to believe at first, but now I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “He never calls him anything except Gospodin Ivchencko, it means ‘boss’. And the old man is always ordering Greg about. In fact, Greg isn’t his name, apparently. Ivchencko calls him Gregor.”

  Elsa thought about that for a moment trying to piece anything together that she could. “Have there been any other girls?”

  There was a pause, and then finally, “Yes. There were two others here when I first arrived. One girl named Anna, and another named Natasha. The old man ordered Greg to ‘move them to storage’ whatever that means. I don’t think he did it right, though.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “That night, Greg came down here in a foul mood. He was pacing around and saying things like ‘I didn’t mean to do it. Then he did the oddest thing. It was quite sickening.”

  “What?” Elsa waited wondering what could be sicker than raping a young girl.

  “He stripped off his clothes and knelt in the middle of the floor. He had one of those whips on the wall over there in his hand, and he started praying out loud. He whipped himself until he bled. And he also...” Her voice trailed off.

  “Yes? He also what?” Elsa turned her head to the right and saw, finally, the items hanging on the wall. A whip, a flogger with metal barbs, a metallic rod, and medieval-looking clamps. These didn’t alarm her. She knew how to use each item, quite effectively, actually. But it was the trays of knives and large mallets that had her worried. She was trained to inflict pain without causing harm. Ivchencko obviously wished only to inflict pain with maximum harm. The kind a person wouldn’t recover from.

  “He...he spilled other fluids from...” The shame in her voice clued Elsa in.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it.”

  “I never knew such things about boys before. My papa wouldn’t even let me date yet. If I ever get out of here, if I do, I just can’t tell him. He can’t ever know.” The sheer misery in Liliya’s tone broke her heart and caused tears to sting Elsa’s eyes. She blinked them away and tried to keep a clear head.

  “So, this boy is religious, you think?”

  “Yes. He makes me pray with him after he...after.”

  “He sounds very messed up, but maybe we can use that to our advantage. And Liliya, none of this is your fault. You have no shame in this. You understand?” She tried, again, to twist enough to see her.

  “But I got in his car.”

  “No! You did nothing wrong. He had no right. No right to touch you. You didn’t ask him to, so he had no right. Tell me you understand.”

  She sniffed. “I understand.” The whispered words carried very little conviction.

  Just then the door opened, creaking loudly on rusty metal hinges. Both women grew quiet and waited to see who was entering the room and walking down the stairs. Each step down had Elsa rattled. Once the bottom step was reached, the soft soles of the shoes made little sound on the concrete floor.

  “Finally awake, are you?”

  The low tone of Ivchencko’s voice sent a feeling of dread through Elsa. She kept quiet, refusing to say anything.

  “Good. Comfortable?” He tugged on the strap of her right hand finally coming into view.

  He’d changed his clothes from earlier, and now wore black slacks and a long-sleeve black T-shirt. He still looked cold and evil.

  “I’ve been waiting all day to try out my new toys. Would you like to see them?”

  He walked over to the table with all the knives and picked up a wooden box. He carried it over and stood at her side. Slowly, he opened the lid, and tilted the contents to show her. Inside, a curved short-handled knife resembling a small scythe lay next to a glove with razors attached to the ends of each finger. Both looked quite old.

  Elsa’s eyes grew wide as understanding set in. He was going to torture her. And it wasn’t going to be the pleasant variety. She tried for bravado.

  “What’s the matter, Ivchencko. Can’t get it up? Need a little help, do you?” She saw the flash in his eyes before his hand snaked out and smacked her hard across her face. The sound was loud in the small room. The sting on her cheek burned. She heard Liliya suck in a breath and whimper.

  Using the only knowledge of him she had, Elsa spat, “Did you like touching my skin? I’ve been around dirty criminals and filthy beggars on the tube. I wonder when is the last time any of them bathed?”

  Ivchencko put down the box and went quickly to grab the hand sanitizer where he slathered it all over his hands and halfway up his arms. His anger made his movements jerky. “Watch your mouth, you filthy slut!” The look he sent her way promised she would be sorry. He reached out and plucked a pair of rubber surgical gloves from a box next to his torture devices. As he pulled them on, he turned to look at her, composed once again. “You’ll regret your hasty words, Mistress Elsa. But I am eager to know your opinion of my skills at inflicting pain. I’ve not yet had a guest with your professional background before. I trust you’ll appreciate this more than my past submissives.”

  His conversational tone, and the fact that he referred to her as a guest put Elsa on edge. The man was truly insane. Still, she tried to maintain her composure. She’d be damned if she’d let him see just how scared she really was.

  “Oh, I’m a guest now? If that’s the case, then shouldn’t the guest get to choose the device?” She hoped to stall for as long as possible while she worked on a plan. Any plan.

  “Too soon for these, you think?” He looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

  “Well, you have to build up to that slowly. Otherwise, it’s like sex without foreplay.” She smiled seductively hoping to charm him into trusting her.

  He leaned on his hands, mulling over her words. “Well, I’m certainly not a barbarian.” He stood up and clapped his hands. “This is exciting, Elsa. By all means, please choose a device for me to start with. I assure you, I’m an expert in all.” He swept his hand out magnanimously, showcasing the items hanging on the wall.

  Elsa knew her time was growing short, and if she didn’t come up with something so
on, she was going to be tortured by a man who did not know the meaning of the phrase ‘safe word’.

  “Come, come. Which one!” he prompted her.

  She scanned the wall trying to decide which would be the lesser evil. She took a deep breath and pointed with her restrained hand. “That one.” He followed her eyes where they lingered on a leather whip.

  “It’s a bit amateurish, but lady’s choice. The whip it is.” He walked over and grabbed it off the wall giving it a hard flick that snapped in the air.

  Her heart sped up, but it didn’t begin to pound out of her chest until he came back, laid the whip over her legs, and plucked the small scythe from the box.

  “I thought you were starting with the whip?” she asked, trying not to sound alarmed.

  He smiled. “I am. But we must dispense with these first. I hate to waste a single lash.” And with that, he began slicing off her shirt, her pants, and then her underclothes. Before long, she lay there naked. Ivchencko reached under the side of the table and hit a button. A motorized sound filled the room as the table slowly lifted her into a standing position. With nowhere to put her feet to support her weight, she dangled by her wrists and ankles. It hurt. She clenched her teeth and fought back the tears, anger flooding her. If she got out of this, if she broke loose of her bonds, she was going to kill this man.

  Yuri Ivchencko moved to stand a few feet in front of her. He held the whip as he let his gaze travel up and down her body. “No wonder Lukas wants you. You’re quite perfect. Lovely skin. So white and smooth.” His expression was much like the one she first witnessed when he was looking upon Paul’s art, a sort of sick rapture. “You’re a blank canvas, my dear.” His words echoed the one’s Lukas uttered in passion only the night before. The parallel wasn’t lost on her, but now, she knew she would be experiencing terrible pain instead of incredible pleasure. She had no control over this situation that she could see. She needed to think harder.

  “Ivchencko, you don’t really want to do this.” Her eyes pleaded.

  He laughed. “Oh, but I do!” He raised his arm and prepared to swing.

  “WE’VE GOT SOMETHING.” Mahler crooked her finger at Heinz who just ended a rather long and awkward conversation with Anno. He tried reassuring the boy that everything was being done to find his sister. Somehow, he hadn’t quite done so, but he did manage to calm him down enough to get off the phone. He promised to send an officer over to sit with him and be liaison for all information as they received it. Then he’d called Hugo Beimer, who was now on his way over. He didn’t seem at all surprised that Lukas was Heinz’s first person of interest in the disappearance of his partner.

  “Where?” He went quickly to look over her shoulder at the small screen on Mahler’s tablet.

  “The tube. She never got off at her stop. Closed circuit shows her continuing on and exiting three stations up, then switching to another train to Charlottenburg.” Birgitta turned and looked up at Heinz. “Street surveillance from a storefront opposite the exit from the UBahn showed her walking toward Baumgartenstrasse. The time was right about when we left. Joseph, she may have gone to Ivchencko’s home. But why? How is she caught up in this?”

  The sickly green pallor that was now Heinz’s complexion showed how truly worried he was. “Get HQ to run a trace on her mobile. If it’s still on, we can triangulate her position. But tell them not to call. If she is in trouble, we don’t want anyone to know we’re tracking her.”

  Heinz looked over at Lukas who appeared bewildered and upset. “You said Ivchencko was at the gallery last night. Did he have any contact with Elsa?”

  Lukas leaned his forearms on his knees and looked down, nodding his head. “Ja. They met.”

  “And?” Heinz prompted the man.

  “And she may have pissed him off.” He looked at Heinz.

  “How so?”

  “She berated him for liking Christiansen’s art. Told him only diseased minds would find it fascinating. It did not appear to be well-received.”

  Heinz nodded, understanding Elsa’s swift anger in the face of any reminders of that dark time. He’d had his own run-in with her redheaded temperament back then. “Her tongue can run away with her. Did he say anything to you?”

  “No. He just reminded me to make sure his purchases were delivered today.”

  “And that’s when you had Ms. Bishop take over?”

  “Yes. She’s good at her job. Trustworthy. But I can’t think of any reason why Elsa would go to his home, if that’s where she went. She didn’t like him. I could see it all over her face. She doesn’t hide her emotions well.” The doorbell buzzed. “I’ll get that.”

  Mahler approached. “We’re getting a hit off her cell. She’s still in the area. We can accurately narrow it down to within five miles all the way around Ivchencko’s house.” Her voice dropped low. “Joseph,” she placed her hand on his arm. “there’s nothing else around that locale where she might be as far as we can tell. Her last text to Anno came from that exact spot. If she’s there, and we’re right about Koslov, she’s in danger. We need a plan.”

  Hugo Beimer barreled past Lukas when he opened the door. Behind him, three people followed, looking at Trommler and the detectives in bewilderment.

  “Kommissar, what’s the situation? What has happened to my partner?” The calm on Beimer’s face ended at the deep concern in his blue eyes.

  Heinz nodded at Hugo and pulled him aside where he gave a brief, private explanation, and then turned to look the newcomers in the eyes one by one. “No doubt you’re wondering just why you’ve been called over here.” Imani, Otto, and Bruce looked at each other, and then back at Heinz.

  “Yes, we are. Just what is going on here?” Imani asked, irritation in her tone. She thought Lukas might have come to his senses when he phoned and asked her over. His words had been aloof, deceptively evasive, but they’d sparked hope in her. But now, with all these people here, she was confused and annoyed.

  “Sit down, everyone.” Heinz indicated the couch while he stood facing them, Mahler at his side. “I’m Detective Heinz, and this is my partner, Birgitta Mahler. And this is Officer Beimer.” He indicated Hugo who opted to stand off to the side. “Before you get worried, you’re not in any trouble.”

  “Then why are we here?” The terse question from Imani shot out. Lukas was quick to reply.

  “Imani, please. They need our help. Elsa has gone missing, and it’s somehow mixed up with their investigation of some missing girls.” His tone was gentle, but firm. Still, worry laced his words.

  Imani, however, couldn’t quite hide the small lift to her lips. “Oh, really? Well, what does that have to do with us?”

  The look he threw her told her in no uncertain terms that she’d said the wrong thing. “Detectives, please proceed.” He turned his head away and let Heinz have at her.

  “Today, you delivered paintings to the home of Yuri Ivchencko. Mahler and I tracked a suspect to that same home. We noted your delivery truck parked outside at the time. Did you happen to see a young man with dark hair, early twenties while inside?”

  As he spoke, Imani’s face fell. She could still hear the foul, old Russian asking her questions about Elsa, questions he would not have thought to ask had she not run off at the mouth. Ivchencko was not a good person. She knew this. She saw it in the way he treated her with disdain, and the way he spoke to her. He was a man filled with hate, but was he capable of kidnapping? She thought it best to keep her mouth shut from here on out, and limit what she said to this detective. If Lukas knew what she’d revealed to Ivchencko, he’d never talk to her again. But if she kept quiet, and the man had Elsa, the redheaded bitch might be harmed. Did she really want it to go that far?

  Otto spoke. “We only saw Herr Ivchencko, and briefly at that. Imani spoke to him more than we did.” Bruce nodded.

  Imani seethed, promising to make Otto pay for that later at work somehow. Heinz turned to her. “Well? Did he happen to say or do anything that might be considered suspic
ious?”

  “No. He was perfectly pleasant. We simply hung the paintings and then left.” She smiled sweetly.

  Otto’s eyes popped. “But you told us—" He looked at Imani who cut him off quickly.

  “Yes, Otto. I know.” She turned back to Heinz. “There was one small thing, but it may have been just my perception.”

  “And what was that?” Mahler asked, facing Imani. She didn’t like what she read off the woman’s face.

  “Well,” she turned to Lukas. “He seemed a bit prejudiced. I got the feeling he might have an issue with women of color.” She cast her eyes down.

  Lukas leaned in, concerned for his co-worker. “What happened?”

  “He made it very clear that he was expecting you to make the delivery. He didn’t seem pleased to find me on his doorstep.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me immediately? Did he say anything else? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “No, Lukas. He showed me where he wanted the paintings, and Otto and Bruce did their jobs. Then we left. That’s all. And I didn’t think it was important enough to remark upon. I’m sorry.” She reached out and touched his hand. Lukas pulled back, clearly uncomfortable with the gesture.

  Mahler watched this interplay with interest. “Would you be able to draw a map of the house? The parts you’ve seen?”

  “Of course. Any help I can offer, it’s yours.”

  Beimer addressed Lukas. “It would help if you could get paper and a pen.”

  Lukas tried not to roll his eyes at Hugo as he rose to retrieve the items from his desk. His dislike of the man needed to be put aside. Elsa was more important, and the level of his worry escalated with each passing minute.

  He returned, and Imani began making a map of the home of Yuri Ivchencko.

  “He has a very strange butler.” Bruce, who’d been quiet the entire time, surprised everyone when he spoke.

  Heinz walked over to where the younger man sat. “What do you mean? Strange, how?”