“Well, while were in the gallery hall, I saw him taking a tray of food through a doorway on the far end.”
“What’s strange about that?” Heinz’s brow furrowed, irritation emanating from his brown eyes.
Bruce continued, unaffected by the detective’s expression. “Herr Ivchencko was in the library with Imani at the time. So, who was he taking food to? Plus, it looked too much for one person.”
“Did you happen to notice what kind of food?” Mahler asked.
“Sure. Some bottled waters. Fruit. Bread. Cheese.” Bruce shrugged. Mahler looked at Heinz.
“What did this butler look like? Was he young?” Heinz broke in.
“No. He’s an older man. Short, and round like a barrel. But not fat. More like, stocky. He seemed pretty strong, too. He helped me hold up one of the large canvases while Otto hung it.”
“Did he have a name?” Mahler was writing down the details in her notebook.
“Ivchencko called him Dutch,” Otto offered.
“Bruce, can you indicate on Imani’s map where this door is that the butler went through?” Mahler picked up the paper Imani had drawn the map of the house on and brought it over to him.
“Ja, sure. Let’s see.” He looked at the picture. “It was here.” He made an X in the far corner of the long hallway off the entryway.
Heinz stared at it. “Could be a basement. Or it could just be a guest room. Hugo,” he turned to Beimer. “Call the city hall in Charlottenburg and ask them to fax the blueprint of Ivchencko’s address to Herman Faust. He’s LKA.” Heinz fished a card out of his wallet and handed it over. “This is his fax number.”
Beimer pulled out his mobile and made the call. Heinz grabbed his phone and dialed.
“Faust. It’s Heinz. We may have a break in the case. I’m having a blueprint faxed over to you. I need you to check and see if there’s a basement off the gallery on the first floor. And Faust, one of my officers has gone missing. We have reason to believe she may be in the hands of your murderer.”
“Christ, Joseph, I just gave you this case a few days ago!” Faust swore.
“And already I’ve found us a break. Listen,” Heinz walked to the French doors that led out to the terrace and stepped outside. Mahler watched him go, knowing he needed to give a report to Faust. Her woman’s intuition told her things were bad. They were right about Koslov, and Elsa was in grave danger. Time was not on their side. But then, in their line of work, it never was. She turned to look at the group gathered in the living room. Beimer was working on getting the blueprint. Otto and Bruce were sitting together looking confused as hell, and Lukas was pacing around like a caged animal. Everyone was either working to help, or deeply concerned. But Imani Bishop did not look concerned. In fact, she seemed rather pleased although she tried to hide this whenever Lukas made his way in her direction with his endless pacing. Her expression would go from unfazed to sympathetic as she stared at his shirtless form. It was clear the woman fancied Trommler. What was not clear was whether she’d been telling the truth earlier. Something wasn’t right, and Birgitta decided to go push a few buttons.
“So, you work with Lukas?” She sat down next to her.
“Yes.” Imani scooted down giving Mahler more room.
“And how is that going?” She leaned back.
“It goes well. He’s very easy to work with.” She stared at Lukas as he stood watching Heinz through the glass.
“He’s very easy on the eyes, isn’t he,” Birgitta replied stating the question more as a casual observation.
“Yes, I suppose he is.”
“And single, too. I understand he was on a date with our Elsa last night. Did you meet her?”
Imani took a deep breath, then said, “No. I can’t say that I did. I only saw her across the room.”
“Oh, so Lukas didn’t introduce you two. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were not close like that. You’re just co-workers then.”
Her spine stiffened, and she flashed a look at Mahler. “We’re not just co-workers. We’re friends.”
“But not the kind of friend he would introduce his girlfriend to, it seems,” Birgitta said with innocence.
“She’s not his girlfriend! It was only a first date. Nothing more.” Imani’s anger bubbled to the surface, and her attempt to quell it didn’t work as well as she intended. “I mean, they only just met. Who knows if they’ll even see each other again?” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Well, I’m no expert, but I’d say the way he’s pacing through here like a caged lion says he’s already hooked.”
Imani looked at Lukas who’d resumed his pacing. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Like you said, you’re no expert.” She let the insulting words roll off her lips as she gazed at the man in question.
Mahler watched the woman, knowing now, that Bishop truly hated the idea of Lukas dating Elsa. But did it have anything to do with Elsa going missing?
“Hmmn. I wonder how Ivchencko met her. Lukas doesn’t know him half as well as he knows you, yet he introduced them.” She said this as if just speaking out loud to herself.
“The way I understand it, she insulted Herr Ivchencko, so I wouldn’t exactly say they were politely introduced. It was probably just Lukas’s way to smooth over a situation she caused with her lack of culture.”
“Lack of culture? How would you know Elsa lacks culture? You’ve not met her?”
Imani wouldn’t look at her. “I don’t need to meet her. I know her type.”
Mahler sat forward, stifling her own anger under a calm exterior. “And what type is that?”
The ebony woman finally turned and looked at Birgitta. Her expression was calm, until she noticed her eyes. They flashed dangerously, and Imani knew she’d said too much—again.
“Cops. Schutzpolizei. You know...”
“No, I don’t. Tell me.” Mahler never lost eye contact. It was a method detectives used to cause suspects to be ill-at-ease. The more nervous they got, the more they babbled. The more they babbled, the harder it became to keep their lies straight.
Imani squirmed a bit in her seat, pissed at the detective. “I don’t know, really. It was just something Mr. Christiansen said.” She dropped eye contact and looked away, but she could still feel Mahler’s eyes on her. They never wavered.
“And what was that? What did Paul say about his friend Elsa?” She stressed the word ‘friend’.
“Something about her past career, before she was a cop.”
“Paul told you about Elsa’s past career. And what career was that?” Birgitta’s voice was sharp. Lukas looked up and noticed the two women talking.
“What about Elsa? What are you two talking about,” he asked, then sauntered over to stand in front of them.
Mahler finally looked away from Imani and focused on Lukas. “Ms. Bishop was just telling me of her conversation with Paul Christiansen about Elsa.”
Lukas looked confused. “When did you talk to Christiansen? He was with me all night?”
Imani fidgeted, her eyes looking everywhere but at Lukas or Mahler. “Some time in the evening. I don’t remember.”
“And what did he say?” Trommler placed his hands on his hips and waited for Imani to explain herself. He knew she couldn’t have possibly talked with Paul because Paul had been with him and Elsa most of the night. Prior to that, he was surrounded by adoring fans, and Imani was working with the buyers. Something wasn’t right.
“It was just something about what she did before she was Schupo.” She looked at her lap knowing she was cornered.
He addressed Mahler. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”
She stood and looked up at him. “Nein. And Ms. Bishop better start explaining why she’s lying, why she lied earlier.”
“I didn’t lie!” Imani stood up.
“Woah!” Lukas found himself between two very angry women. He addressed Mahler. “What do you mean? What did she lie about?”
Biemer got off the phone and joined them. “What the hell i
s going on here?”
“She’s not told us the whole truth, have you Ms. Bishop.” The stare was back in place.
Heinz stepped back inside to find his partner giving ‘the look’ to Imani with Lukas and Beimer standing around her. All eyes were on the tall, lovely black woman, even Otto’s and Bruce’s. The woman in question looked like she was about to blow a gasket. He waited, standing by the French doors. He knew better than to get between two pissed off women, especially when one was his partner smack in the middle of an impromptu interrogation.
“I told you everything.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Lukas, tell them!” She pleaded with him with her big brown eyes.
He finally saw what, apparently, Mahler was seeing. Imani was hiding something. “What else happened at Ivchencko’s? And don’t lie to me, Imani. Your job is on the line.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but they were not tears of sadness. They were angry tears. “He knows about her, okay?”
“He knows what,” Lukas asked. He took a step toward her.
Imani backed up and blew up. “That she was a whore! Did you know that? Your new girlfriend used to work in a sex club. She spanked men for a living. That’s what you think is so great! That’s the woman you dated last night. And Ivchencko knows it, too. I don’t know if that means anything or nothing. I just know he was interested in Elsa and asked about her.”
“Who told you this shit?” Lukas’s anger blasted their ears.
“Paul Christiansen. I already told you that.” She gave him a look of evil satisfaction.
“When?” Heinz spoke from the back of the room. “When did he share this with you?”
“Yes, Ms. Bishop. When,” Mahler asked.
“Last night,” she snapped.
“But you weren’t around him at the exhibit. Not at all. You were working the buyers.” Lukas’s eyes now looked like the very animal he appeared as earlier when pacing, wild.
“I met him at his hotel, Lukas.” She let that sink in, hoping to see some sign that he cared, that it bothered him. She was grasping at straws now knowing her chance with him was blown.
He didn’t blink. “After we dropped him off?” His eyebrow rose in question.
She sighed, defeated. “Yes. After you dropped him off.”
He looked at Mahler. “He was very drunk last night. He could’ve said anything. So what?”
It was obvious he didn’t believe it. Beimer stood behind him wearing the same expression. He, too, didn’t want to believe that Elsa was anything other than who they believed her to be.
“Paul is quite the joker. I imagine if he was drunk, it would just be worse.” Heinz approached the group, but his eyes were on Mahler. They said, “Work with me!” His words were carefully selected to protect Elsa.
“That’s true,” she said.
“Still, if you repeated this to a man like Ivchencko, then you may very well have put Elsa in danger.”
“I don’t understand,” said Imani. “What do you mean ‘a man like Ivchencko?’ What kind of man is he?”
“Didn’t you tell us that earlier? I thought you’d already drawn that conclusion. You said he mistreated you,” Heinz pointed out.
“But that may only have been my perception.” She waited.
“Perception is instinct, and people should trust it more. Some years ago, a young girl was abducted. The trail went cold at the port in Hamburg. It’s the very port where Ivchencko Enterprises docks all their commercial shipping vessels. I’ve reason to believe he was involved. And now that Elsa has gone missing at a time when Mahler and I are investigating three missing girls who all had contact with a suspect living at his residence, well, it’s not just a coincidence. You said he asked about her. A man like that doesn’t ask idle questions. Now, from the beginning. Tell us what happened.” The coldness in Heinz’s eyes sent a shiver up Imani’s spine. She started over and told them everything. When she was done, Lukas spoke.
“You’re fired. Don’t bother to come back to the gallery. I’ll have Otto bring you your things. Now please get out of my house.” He turned his back.
“Lukas...” She reached out. “I’m sorry.” Her hand dropped to her side. Imani turned to grab her purse and leave. Heinz stopped her and handed her his card.
“We’ll be in touch.” He said it like a promise, and not the good kind.
When the door shut behind her, Beimer looked at Heinz and Mahler. “It’s not true, is it?” He looked hurt.
“What,” Heinz asked.
“Elsa didn’t actually work in a sex club, did she?” Beimer sounded like a little boy asking if Santa Claus was real and expecting the worst.
Mahler noticed Lukas’s shoulders were stiff, and he stood stock still while waiting on the answer. She patted Beimer on the arm. “No, Hugo. It’s not true.” She lied through her teeth sounding for all the world as if she were telling the truth.
Heinz’s eye caught hers. He mouthed ‘thank you’ behind the backs of the other two men.
Lukas’s shoulders slumped in relief. He sat down.
“Why would Mr. Christiansen say that,” Beimer asked. He was struggling with his opinion of Paul, a very favorable opinion of the man except for his flirting with Sigrid, saying something so degrading about his partner.
“Paul has a very weird sense of humor, Hugo. Remember, he was abused growing up. You know the story. It was all over the news,” Heinz added.
This made sense to Hugo who latched on to the explanation. “He’s going to therapy for it,” Mahler shared.
Hugo nodded. “That’s good. But I don’t want him maligning my partner ever again, and I’ll tell him so if he comes back to Berlin.”
“But right now, Elsa is in danger as far as we can tell. What are we going to do about it?” Lukas turned, speaking up.
“That’s what I came in to tell you before I saw Birgitta boring into Ms. Bishop.” He smiled at her, then looked at Lukas and Beimer. “We have a plan. Faust will meet us in Charlottenburg in an hour. Hugo, you ride with us.”
Hugo stood tall, puffing out his chest. He was ready to ride in on his white horse and save Elsa. Lukas waited to hear what he was supposed to do.
“And what about me?”
“You’ll wait here,” said Heinz.
“The hell I will!”
“Trommler, you’re a civilian. We can’t bring you into this. You’ll just get in the way, and I can’t focus on finding Elsa if I’m having to look out for you.” The two men glared at each other.
“You don’t need to look out for me, detective. I can look out for myself. I’m ex-military,” Lukas stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“What? When? I didn’t see that in your background check.” Heinz looked perplexed. There was no such information in Trommler’s file, only a period of four years where no job was listed. He’d assumed the man was just an unemployed bum.
Lukas’s eyes narrowed hearing that Heinz had run a check on him. “I spent four years as a Marine. Kapitänleutnant Trommler at your service. I was attached to a select group. What we did was classified, and that’s why you would not find record of my service in a simple police background check. You’d need higher clearance.” The insult was apparent, and Birgitta could see Heinz’s eyebrows get even lower indicating he was about to explode.
She stepped between them whispering under her breath, “Oh, lord.” Mahler addressed Trommler, putting an end to their staring contest. “Can you handle a weapon, Lukas?”
“I can handle all manner of weapons, and even make weapons if need be, detective. I spent my first two years in Kosovo, and the last two in Afghanistan. My specialty is explosives.”
“Why’d you get out?” Heinz asked, still stunned by this turn of events, and still looking for a reason to dislike the man.
“That’s my business. Now, can we please go find my girlfriend?”
“No,” said Heinz.
Lukas started to protest.
“Not until you put on a damn shirt,�
� Heinz stated angrily. Lukas relented, walking to his bedroom to grab a shirt.
He came back out in jeans, black, long-sleeve shirt, black boots, and strapping an MP7 at his side, and a Glock 17 tucked into a rear pants holster. He slid a large knife up his sleeve into a sheath, and then put on a long trench coat to cover the lethal weapons. “Ready.”
Beimer gave a grudging thumbs up. Mahler grinned. Heinz blew air out of his nose like an irritated old bull, and then said, “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twelve
ELSA HUNG FORWARD IN her restraints, covered in welts. They were hot, swollen, and hurt like hell. The angry red lines crisscrossed her torso and thighs. Amazingly, there was no blood spilled, not yet, but Ivchencko said he was just getting started.
“You see? What did I tell you?” He smiled, proudly standing with arms wide open waiting for praise. “Did I not say I’m an expert?” He stepped forward and traced a welt that ran across her breasts with his gloved finger. “No broken skin, and not a single drop of blood spilled.” He admired his handiwork. “Lovely. They match your hair, my dear?” He looked up at her and casually swept the hair aside hanging over her eyes.
Elsa panted; her shallow breaths taken with great care since deeper breathing seemed to stretch her tight, inflamed skin painfully. Despite this, despite her need to scream, and possibly faint, she maintained as much composure as possible. “You did. You did say you were adept.”
He smiled. “There now. Was that so hard to admit?”
She looked him in the eye. “You know, of course, I’m going to kill you.”
He laughed. “That’s the spirit, my dear!” He patted her arm causing her to flinch and wince in pain.
Elsa could hear Liliya sobbing behind her. Every crack of the whip brought forth an involuntary yelp from the girl who watched from her cage as Ivchencko tortured her.
Yuri wandered over to his wall of tools and picked out the next device, a long metal rod. He smacked the table with it a few times for effect, and then came back to stand in front of Elsa. “My choice now. This has always been a favorite.” He eyed the instrument, stroking up and down in a sexual manner. “Women just can’t seem to get enough of my rod, Mistress.”
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