The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set

by Michele E. Gwynn

“I’m ready.” She sat up straight.

  His face grew serious. “To begin, you’re going to help me monitor a situation, one that is under the radar, unsanctioned, and only has two names approved for clearance on the matter, yours, and mine. You cannot speak of it to anyone no matter their occupation or personal relevance in your life. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “Good, because if it gets out, it’s both our asses.”

  Elsa sat quietly as Faust began briefing her about a new lead on a cold case, explaining how she, herself, helped bring about this new information with her involvement in the Ivchencko affair. Her eyes grew wider as her new superior shared that the case itself was the very one that nearly derailed the career of her mentor, and that Detective Heinz was now deep undercover, and deep into the former Soviet Union where diplomatic relations were only surface niceties. It was clear by the end of the telling that Elsa understood the very real danger Joseph Heinz was in, and worse, she couldn’t tell Birgitta, couldn’t express her concerns out loud to Lukas or even answer her own brother’s queries as to Heinz’s whereabouts, which she knew would eventually come. All she could do was utter the lie about a training getaway in Sweden.

  Faust watched her face looking for any reaction beyond the large, green-eyed stare. “Well? You see now why this must be kept under wraps?”

  Elsa drew in a deep breath letting it out slowly. “I do, and if I may speak plainly?”

  “You may.”

  “This sucks!”

  Faust raised an eyebrow. “It does. Welcome to the world of the LKA, Kreiss.”

  “So, you and I are the only two people who have Joseph’s back, and we’re too far back to be effective. If something goes wrong, we won’t know until it’s too late, if at all?”

  “That about sums it up.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. She tried to tamp it down. “What in the world made him think he could just go off like this, without one of us with him?”

  The Direcktor sighed. “It is not unusual for an agent to undertake a solo mission, Kreiss. It happens every day.” He pointed to a stack of files on his desk. “There are seven in front of me.” He lifted the first file and opened it, scanning it with his eyes. “One in Syria undercover with the resistance...” He pulled another, “...two in Saudi Arabia not even aware of each other set in motion to infiltrate the Kingdom’s highest echelon,” Faust flipped open yet another, “and several inside the United States awaiting orders.” He stacked them again, pushing them off to the side. “These are the risks these agents take, the very risks you, yourself, will one day take upon completion of your training to my satisfaction.” He folded his arms on the desk, leaning forward.

  Elsa sat forward at the same time locking her eyes with his. “Yes, but Joseph is not one of your agents. He’s a police detective,” she pointed out.

  “Heinz is better than any agent under me, and I trust his instincts even if I don’t agree with his methods. He’s also a friend, and I owe him the opportunity to find peace within himself. He’s been haunted by this case for too long.”

  Elsa read the lines in Faust’s face. Something in her softened. “And you know what it’s like to lose a child.”

  They stared at each other in silence. Finally, Faust grunted, “Exactly.”

  Accepting her new role as co-conspirator, Elsa sat back. “What now?”

  “Now, we wait for him to contact us, and...” he turned to his computer. “...we see if my inside contact has any news to share.” He leaned around and looked over the top of the screen. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t provide him some kind of backup?” He typed in his password.

  “Herman, you softie. You do care.” Elsa smiled and waited to hear if there was yet any news of Detective Joseph Heinz inside Russia. “Does he know?”

  He scanned his inbox. “No, and that’s the way we shall keep it. Heinz would be pissed to know he is being followed. The agreement with my insider is for surveillance only, just so we have some way of knowing if he’s safe, and a pathway in case we need to get him out sooner than planned.”

  Chapter Six

  BIRGITTA MAHLER REPORTED to her superior, Erster Hauptkommissar Karl Levitz. The tall, blond man sat at his desk aggressively banging on his computer keyboard. He didn’t even bother to look up when Mahler walked in, but simply lifted one hand to wave her to a chair on the opposite side of his desk.

  “Mahler, have a seat.”

  Birgitta sat down and waited for him to continue.

  “I know your leave begins in two weeks, but I have an urgent request out of the Federal Ministry of the Interior, and since Heinz is in Sweden for a seminar,” he rolled his eyes, “you’re next on my list.”

  Mahler remained silent knowing Levitz didn’t like being interrupted even when it seemed he’d stop talking. She knew better. Experience taught her that he was gathering his thoughts.

  He finished whatever he was typing with a final bang of his fingers, and then sat back focusing his blue eyes on her. His short, military-style haircut framed a rectangular face with an unusually sharp chin. There was a small dimple in it, but it did nothing to soften his otherwise austere countenance. Two lines furrowed his brow showing the years of worry he’d shouldered in his life, and career. Levitz was a former Major in the German Army, and an artillery specialist. He was ranked as the number one sniper in his division, and he brought that experience with him into the police force.

  He cleared his throat. “There have been threats made on the life of the Minister. Several have been issued anonymously through email, voicemail, and post.” He pulled out a packet from his drawer and tossed it onto the desktop. “These are the email copies with IT reports that show the ghost IP used to send them has been routed through so many servers, we have yet to be able to determine the original owner. The voicemails are being analyzed by our lab to see if we can match to any registered convicts in our system, and there are three physical posts that are clean of fingerprints. I want you to go over everything, and in the morning, report to the Minister’s home address. It’s all inside the packet. You’re being assigned to shadow Ritt Obermeyer throughout the day from the moment he wakes until he arrives back home. I have another officer assigned to guard him overnight with patrol units going by every hour until we neutralize the threat.”

  Birgitta bit her lower lip. She’d planned to finish tying up the loose ends for her wedding, but now she didn’t know how she would accomplish that massive task while babysitting the Minister of the Interior. She would need to rely heavily upon Elsa which, while she trusted the younger woman to handle things, still didn’t seem fair. She was a hands-on person, and relinquishing control to someone else irked her.

  “Are there any suspects yet? Anyone he’s recently angered, a co-worker, a lover?” Mahler knew all about Herr Obermeyer’s penchant for young, beautiful women, and his politics were not popular, especially among the police state that he and his under-secretaries oversaw.

  “That’s what I expect you to determine. This is a shit assignment, I know. None of us are fond of Obermeyer, but it is still our sworn duty, despite his recent cuts to police funding, to protect him.” Levitz’s nostrils flared. It was plain he did not like having anyone in his department running to the rescue of the man who had cut the budget for new protective equipment and was hell-bent on privatizing law enforcement retirement pensions. “Do your best. If you manage to keep whoever wants him dead from killing him, you’ve done your job.”

  “What if I fail?” Birgitta asked, a delicate, dark eyebrow raised.

  Levitz looked her in the eye. “I’ll recommend you for a commendation.” He turned back to his computer.

  That was her superior’s idea of humor. If one didn’t know him, they would believe he was serious, and perhaps in this particular case, he was. She rose, picking up the packet from his desk, and quietly walked out of his office. At her own desk, she pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text to Joseph. New assignment protecting the MP o
f Budget Cuts. Yay, me! Someone wants to kill him. Can’t imagine why. Miss you. B.

  She set her mobile down and opened the packet, dumping the contents out on her desk. Sifting through, Mahler placed the emails to one side with the small flash drive on top of that short stack and reached for the physical posts. Those interested her the most because while most people who sent death threats through email were often disgruntled, angry people typing out their frustrations in a moment that was usually gone by the time law enforcement showed up on their doorstep, delivering an actual, physical post showed more disturbing intent. Snail mail took far more time to hand-write, or in this case, cut out what appeared to be individual words that came from several newspapers. Each word was carefully cut into a square and glued down onto standard white typing paper creating an obviously well thought out message.

  Herr Obermeyer, Money cannot buy silence. Money cannot protect you. Money cannot save you.

  That was the first message. The second showed a picture of a Euro with a bullet flying through ripping the paper. It was underscored with the words ‘Money cannot stop a bullet.’ The last one simply said, ‘How does it feel to be scared to walk out your front door?’

  Someone was definitely mad at the Minister, but Birgitta reread all three posts before going through the emails. There were more of those, and each was crazier than the last. The perpetrator was engaging in full-out psychological terrorism dating back a month but had yet to strike beyond the delivery of threats. It was as if the real purpose was to terrorize him, not physically harm him. Still, without investigation, she would not be able to make that determination with certainty. She picked up the flash drive. The voicemail recordings were contained within. She plugged it into her computer and pulled up the mp3 file. One mouse click on the play button revealed a low-pitched, mechanical voice with a sinister warning.

  “You will know no peace and will suffer until the moment when your suffering ends!”

  It was obvious that the pitch and tone of the voice had been altered, but what could not be determined was whether it was originally male or female. The message itself was vague. All that was certain was that whoever was threatening the Minister, wanted him to be fearful. Mahler unplugged the flash drive, and then put the contents back inside the packet. She would look over each email again later, and tomorrow, she would meet up with Herr Obermeyer at his home, and escort him to work. On the way, she planned to grill him about any knowledge or suspicions he had as to who might be making these threats. For now, she needed to use the rest of her day to finish off a report, and then make a list, a very long one, of things she would need Elsa to do in order to cement plans for hers and Joseph’s wedding. Joseph. Thinking of him made her reach out and pick up her mobile checking for messages. Nothing. He still hadn’t responded to her text. Perhaps he was in one of the many seminars and had his phone off. She sighed. The next two weeks were going to be long and grueling, and she didn’t look forward to providing protection to the Minister while investigating the threats to his life. She just hoped it was nothing more than a scorned lover, and she prayed the time would fly so she could walk down the aisle and marry the man she loved. She’d waited long enough, and now, the moment was drawing near. Birgitta pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing out her list. She was sure that with everything planned out to a T, the wedding would go off without a hitch.

  IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON already, and Heinz still hadn’t seen anyone come into or leave the warehouse. He had, however watched a few cars roll into, and out of the parking lot where he sat. Dock hands and sailors left from and came to work. He’d also drank two bottles of water and had eaten a package of nuts and dried fruit. At one point, he’d even climbed out after making sure no one was around, stretched his legs briefly, and took a piss behind the car. Now, the sun was beginning its descent, and temperatures began to drop. He desperately wanted a hot cup of coffee, and a hotter meal. He was about to call it a day when a dark limousine pulled around the corner up the road and headed toward number 214.

  Heinz pulled out his binoculars to get a closer look.

  The limo rolled to a stop just outside of the massive double doors, doors that had been closed the entire time he’d surveilled the building. A large, muscular man in a dark suit got out on the passenger side, walking to the front of the car where he inserted a key into the lock, and then punched in a code on the black box above that lock. The doors began to slide open automatically. He stood aside leaving room for the limousine to drive past him and through the doorway.

  Heinz aimed the binoculars down to get a look at the license plate. He reached blindly for the small notebook at his side and scribbled down the numbers. When the limo stopped, only a small portion of the trunk was visible. He cursed. “Damn!” He could not see any more from where he sat. He craned his neck around, straining to gain more visual access. The man standing outside walked in and approached the trunk. He popped it open and reached inside. Another man came around to join him. He was shorter, broader, and bald. The slowly setting sun glinted off of his head making it appear waxen. Together, they bent into the trunk, and when they pulled back, Heinz could clearly see a large, dark green duffel-style bag being lifted out. It moved, bucking them. He couldn’t see the rest of it as the two brutes handling what seemed to be a body blocked the rest from view, but it was clear someone or something was struggling, putting up a fight. As they carried their squirming load around the car, a third person came into view following them. He was a tall man, distinguished-looking with an expensive haircut. Even his salt and pepper beard was meticulously groomed. His attire was tailored—dark suit, probably Armani or an equally fashionable brand. He was speaking, although Joseph could not hear what he was saying, and gesturing. Probably giving orders. Something sparkled on his hand. Heinz zeroed in noting a gold pinky ring, but it was the tattoo on the back of his hand that held his attention. A five-pointed star, insignia of the Russian mafia commonly showing the number of years a man spent in prison. Below the faded blue star, tattooed around his index finger was a crown. Heinz was not familiar with that one, but the Cyrillic acronym spelling out SLON across his knuckles in between the other two symbols, that one he knew. It meant ‘From my early years, only misery.’

  Given his appearance, his seeming to be issuing orders, and those tattoos, Heinz knew the man held high rank within the Bratva. How much was another matter. He made a mental note, and watched as the man glanced outside, casting a look around before retreating to the interior. The large doors began to close, running mechanically on their metallic tracks. The screeching of the gears echoed across the divide and reached Heinz’s ears. He waited another hour. The light grew dimmer, but finally, the gears began to grind once again, the doors opening wide. The limousine pulled out, and the same large man from before stood outside waiting for the doors to close. He inserted his key, turned the lock, and punched in a code, presumably setting the alarm. When he was finished, he climbed into the passenger side, and the car drove off, back around the corner and out of sight.

  Heinz scribbled a few words into his notebook. He thought about the wiggling bag he knew the men took out of the trunk and hauled into the warehouse. Possibly one of their own, or someone on their shit list. He wondered if he should try and get inside because the prognosis for someone in that position was not good. Still, he had no way of knowing if the person was still inside. He could even be dead already. Heinz knew he didn’t have enough information, and he also had neither any official capacity to investigate what he saw, nor any backup to help him. It was hard to walk away, but it was what he needed to do at the moment. He knew he needed more than what he’d just witnessed. He started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot, heading back toward his hotel. It had been a long day of sitting around and waiting. He was tired from traveling, tired from his stakeout, and ready for dinner, and a good night’s sleep. He would return in the morning to see if the limo came back and, perhaps, revealed more activity. With the grit of weariness in his eyes,
and upon his soul, he didn’t notice the small, dark sedan that pulled in behind him merging with traffic.

  Chapter Seven

  THE HOTEL ROOM WAS quiet. Usually, Heinz enjoyed this, but after spending the day alone on a stakeout, it was unnerving. He’d grown used to spending his nights with Birgitta, that is, until she would send him home. He smiled. Her no sex before marriage ban tickled him. It was fine for the moment, but as soon as she said “I do”, he was going to make her pay dearly for every night spent nursing a tender pair of blue balls, and by ‘pay’, he meant to mercilessly make love to her until they both collapsed from exhaustion. But he also missed talking to her, something he’d been doing long before he fell in love with her. It was 6:30 in the evening in Saint Petersburg, but it was only 4:30 in the afternoon back home in Berlin. He would need to wait at least another hour and a half before he called. She was still at work, and then there was the text message he just noticed popping up on his burner phone.

  New assignment protecting the MP of Budget Cuts. Yay, me! Someone wants to kill him. Can’t imagine why. Miss you. B.

  According to the time stamp on the message, and the current time on his bedside clock, the relay time HackTwice set up was more than five hours. Maybe that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t know, but that was going to prove problematic if Birgitta texted him again. He would need to find creative ways to explain why it took so long to answer. He noted the content of the message and frowned. He was no fan of Obermeyer, and he knew it was his own absence that put Mahler on the case. The Minister of Parliament was scum in his eyes, not only for his policies or lack thereof, but also his well-reported personal activities. He didn’t like the idea of Birgitta being assigned to the man. He planned on talking to Levitz about it when he got back for surely there was someone else he could have put on a security detail for the MP who wasn’t female, beautiful, and also his woman. He ran his hand over his face. Christ, listen to me. When did I get to be such a Neanderthal? Heinz didn’t care. His protective instincts were now activated, and he felt frustration set in at being too far away to do anything about the situation.