The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set

by Michele E. Gwynn

  Heinz noted the stubble on his chins. Apparently, the man enjoyed his food, but was loathe to use a razor. He looked like a fat, disgruntled bulldog.

  “Is this the one?” He asked the guard in Russian.

  “Da, this is the intruder.”

  Heinz caught about every other word, but he understood the gist of it.

  “And what am I to do with him?” The bulldog seemed annoyed.

  The guard’s eyebrows lowered, taking affront on his boss’s behalf. “What Gospodin Brezhnev pays you to do, Comrade. Take care of the problem!”

  The policeman’s nostrils flared. “The hassle isn’t worth the paycheck,” he grumbled.

  “Take it up with the boss, then. I’ll be happy to get him.” The guard smirked.

  The bulldog seemed to shrink in on himself for a moment before puffing out his chest and addressing Heinz. “You, let’s go.”

  Heinz sat there, unmoving.

  The guard laughed. “He’s Austrian. Deutsch sprechen.”

  The cop sighed, then said in stilted German, “You there. Let’s go.”

  Heinz stood. The cop stepped aside indicating Heinz should walk ahead of him. Out in the foyer, the butler waited. As soon as both men were ready, he led the way through to a side door that came out to a separate covered driveway. It wasn’t clearly visible from the street as it was partially hidden by three tall evergreen trees. It seemed ironic to Heinz that it smelled like Christmas in a Bavarian forest on a night when he might well find himself dead in a ditch somewhere in the former Soviet Union.

  “Where are you taking me?” Heinz asked as he stopped just shy of the dark sedan parked under the carport.

  The bulldog stopped, his dark eyes assessing the taller man. “To your car, Herr Lintz. I will follow you back to your hotel, the Kseniya, da?”

  So, the man had already been informed. “And then what?”

  “Get in.” He offered no more.

  Heinz hesitated, and then slid into the passenger side.

  The bulldog got in, cranked the ignition, and pulled out onto the winding drive. At the gate, they waited as the wrought iron slid open, and then drove through. The car turned right, and then right again at the crossroad. A third right confirmed they were heading to the back alley where Heinz left his rental. They stopped.

  “Get out. I’ll follow you back.”

  Heinz stepped out, walked to the Volga Siber, and bent down to retrieve the keys from behind the wheel hub. As he got in and prepared to start the engine, he paused. A little voice in his head screamed, “Don’t do it!” He took a steadying breath. There was no way they would blow up the car here right behind all of these homes, and so close to Brezhnev’s residence. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and turned the key. The engine purred to life, humming low.

  Air left his lungs in a whoosh. Relief flooded him, and he put the car in gear, reversing back down the alley. The bulldog cop did the same, backing out first, and just enough to allow Heinz to come onto the road. Then it was Heinz who led the way back to the hotel. It was quite a way to go to return to the Kseniya, and he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  As he pulled onto the highway, he remembered his phone was stashed in the glove compartment. He reached in, fumbling around, and pulled it out, sliding it inside his coat pocket.

  At this time of night, the highway was void of traffic. The windshield began to fog. Heinz turned on the defroster. As the haze cleared off the glass, snow began to fall. The asphalt ahead looked shiny. Black ice. In the rearview, the headlights that had remained right on his tail appeared closer.

  “What the hell?”

  The car tapped his bumper.

  “Dammit!” Heinz hit the gas. “You sonofabitch!”

  The sedan revved, and again, rammed into him. The Volga Siber lurched, and slid. Heinz corrected the wheel, speeding up, frantically trying to remember which exit to take. By his calculation, he was still at least ten minutes away from his turnoff, and at this rate, he wouldn’t make it. He eased to the right, and then let off the gas allowing the sedan to come alongside. When Heinz looked to his left, the cop was once again staring him down...over the sight of his gun. Heinz yanked the steering wheel hard to the left slamming into the sedan. The shot went wide missing the car, but the persistent police officer aimed again, firing. This time, the bullet shattered the driver’s side window narrowly missing Heinz’s head. The officer took advantage of the chaos and slammed the sedan into the side of the Volger sending Heinz skidding out of control.

  He tried to turn the wheel in the opposite direction, letting off the gas and avoiding the brake, but the icy road did him in. The car went off the highway, over the embankment, and landed hard in the ditch below.

  The sedan slowed down, rolling to a stop, and then slowly reversed back to the sight where the tire tracks blended into the dirt on the roadside. The police officer stepped out of his vehicle and walked to the edge of the embankment. In the dark, he could see the taillights glowing in the ditch. He raised his hand, aimed, and fired two shots. The first missed, but the second one found its mark as the gas tank exploded. Satisfied, the bulldog returned to his car and drove away.

  FLAMES LICKED THE NIGHT sky as black smoke swirled creating a hellish fog. The frozen ground was unforgiving, but a far better place to be than the inferno that was now his rent-a-car. Pain shot through his ribs with each breath, and consciousness threatened to flee. A fleeting thought had him reaching into his coat pocket. The mobile was still there. He tapped the screen with his finger, then found and hit the CALL button next to the contact marked EMERGENCY. It rang three times before an unfamiliar voice answered. Heinz’s vision dimmed as he choked out, “I need help.”

  “Where are you?”

  He coughed and winced. “I don’t...know.” He tried looking around, but a sharp jolt in his side from the action, and dizziness robbed him of speech. Heinz tried to focus but failed. “Help...me...” Another coughing fit wracked his body painfully as the world faded to black.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “ANY WORD YET?” FAUST poked his head into the small office two doors down from his own.

  Elsa Kreiss looked up from her computer screen. She shook her head. “No, and I’m starting to worry. He didn’t call last night either, and you know how he is about checking up on me and Anno.”

  Faust stuck his hands in his trouser pockets, staring down. “Hmmn, yes, I know.” He stepped inside the office and stopped short by the narrow window. “It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet, so we’ll give it a little more time.”

  “Time for what? Who else do you have besides this one contact that you haven’t told me anything about, Herman?” Elsa leaned back in her chair, watching the Direktor with concern.

  “No one else, unfortunately. But I have operatives at my beck and call, and if need be, I can send one in.” He turned to the window, muttering under his breath, “Hell, I was one. No one more qualified.”

  “But how would they even know where to begin? Your operatives, while I’m sure are more than capable, don’t know Heinz like we do. They don’t know the case or the history. And how on earth would they even begin to track down his alias?” Elsa stood. Her worry forced her to her feet, unable to remain still any longer. Something was wrong. She was sure of it. Every instinct she had said so.

  “Elsa, you must understand that there are protocols...” Faust held up his hands.

  “What protocols could there possibly be in this case, Herman? It’s unsanctioned! You said so yourself. There is no contingency plan. No team waiting to be called in. It’s just Heinz out there by himself with only some unidentified contact keeping tabs on him.”

  Faust stared at the redhead. His natural reaction to borderline insubordination from a fledgling agent was to put that person firmly in their place. Inexperienced officers did not question their superiors, but this was Elsa, and the long-dormant father inside of him recognized her tone for what it was, fear. She was scared for Heinz. Truth be told, so was he. He b
it his tongue and counted to ten.

  “There is always a contingency plan, Kreiss.” He addressed her by her surname, trying to regain some control over an uncontrollable situation.

  She walked to the window and stood next to him. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “I spoke out of turn. But I don’t know what to do. What do I do, Direktor Faust?” She backed off her verbal attack, ashamed for her outburst.

  Faust averted his face, a half-smile on his lips. He reached over, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She was right. No one knew Heinz like they did, or the case history for that matter. And this wasn’t state business, it was personal. Helping to send Heinz in made him responsible. He knew that from the moment Joseph guilted him into assisting in this hair-brained idea. His decision was made. “We wait until the twenty-four-hour period expires. And then, Elsa, we get on the first flight to Saint Petersburg.”

  She looked at him. “How?”

  “Plan B,” he said. Glancing down, he smiled at her. “I already had our faux passports and identification prepared days ago...just in case, daughter.”

  She blinked, then chuckled. “Daughter?”

  “Yes, a father-daughter trip. Fitting, don’t you think?” He nudged her shoulder.

  Elsa threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. “You old softie!”

  Faust rolled his eyes. “If you ever tell anyone, I’ll have you hanged.”

  She smothered a laugh, then straightened. “Yes, sir.”

  He pulled his arm away, stepping back. “Now, you should go home and pack a small suitcase, enough for a couple of days because we won’t have time for anything else. When you’re finished, meet me back here. Oh,” he said, as he walked to the door, “don’t tell Lukas where you’re going. Just tell him I have scheduled a training assignment for the next few days at the academy. If Heinz checks in before then, you’ll have to stay in a hotel to cement the ruse. Of course, if you don’t run into Lukas before then, you’ll save the department some money and just go back home.”

  ELSA FINISHED FOLDING her jeans and sweaters. After placing them inside her suitcase alongside her thick socks, underthings, and toiletry bag, she zipped it up. She decided to wear her boots on the flight since packing them would be impractical. She’d already thrown in a pair of black running shoes and leg warmers. Saint Petersburg was the only place she could think of colder than Berlin, and she needed to be sure she kept warm while there.

  Lukas came in as she lugged the suitcase out.

  “Where are you going?” He stood inside the door with one eyebrow raised.

  Elsa took in the sight of him wearing a dark gray suit that made his hazel eyes seem greener than usual, and smiled. “No need to panic. I’m off for a little training for a couple of days. Boss’s orders.”

  He relaxed. “For a minute there, I thought you were leaving me.” Lukas closed the door, and then walked to Elsa, taking the suitcase from her hand and sitting it down.

  “And if I were?” She grinned as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in.

  “I’d have to remind you why you should stay, of course.” He ran his hands down her back until they rested on her bottom.

  “I see. And why is that again,” she asked, playfully running her own hands up over his chest and around his neck.

  “Well,” he gave her ass a squeeze, “I happen to know exactly what you like.”

  “Meh, I can train anyone to know what I like.” Elsa gave him a saucy grin.

  Lukas’s lip twitched, but he fought the grin threatening to burst forth. “I suppose you could, but not many are as talented a student as myself,” he ground his hips into hers, “nor are they nearly as well endowed with the proper tools for the job of pleasing you.”

  Elsa felt the tool in question grow hard against her. “Hmmn, you mentioned tools, as in plural?”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “How much time do you have before I have to let you go?”

  “Oh, I think just enough. But no dilly-dallying. My Direktor is a hard taskmaster.”

  “I’m a rather hard taskmaster myself, woman,” Lukas whispered before taking her lips in a scorching kiss. His tongue swept the inner recesses of her mouth as his hands worked to quickly unbutton and tug off her slacks. He noticed she wore her high-heeled leather boots beneath. “We’ll leave those on, but nothing else!”

  The rest of her clothing joined her pants in a pile on the hardwood floor. Before she could draw breath, Lukas had lifted her up, carried her to the sofa, and set her down. He threw off his jacket, pulled off his shirt, and knelt between her knees, pushing them apart. With one last smoldering look in his hazel eyes, he dove into her crevice, tongue first, and licked her into submission.

  “You’re right,” she panted, “you’re a keeper. Oh, yes, yes, yes!”

  When she neared orgasm, he pulled back, and with one hand, freed his cock from his pants, positioned himself, and thrust home. Their lovemaking was frenzied and furious. Nails scratched, hair was pulled, and groins rammed together smacking hard.

  “Oh, God, Lukas!” she screamed.

  “Fuck, I love you!” he said, shooting his load.

  Elsa’s eyes popped open. He’d said it. He actually said it, but did he mean it? She glanced down. He was resting his cheek on her breasts, and she could only see the top of his head.

  Her fingers caressed his scalp. She waited while he caught his breath. It gave her time to think.

  “So,” he said, “how long will you be away?”

  “A few days. No more than three, I think.” She spoke softly, absently running a finger around his ear.

  He turned his head, taking a moment to lay a soft kiss on each breast. “I’ll miss you.”

  Elsa smiled. In the afterglow of their lovemaking, she felt more strongly for him than she did any other time. She still wasn’t sure if what she felt was love. Something inside still held her back. Perhaps it had to do with the suspicion that he was keeping a secret from her. “And I’ll miss you. What will you do while I’m gone?”

  “Nothing much. Just gallery business.”

  She remembered the message on his computer. “Anything else?”

  He blinked and leaned up to kiss her lips. It was tender, sweet, and sexy. “Did you need something?”

  “No, just asking.”

  He left her with one last kiss on the tip of her nose before pulling out and standing up. “Okay, good.” He headed to the bathroom.

  “Maybe you can spend a little time with your army friends while I’m gone. Maybe invite Dieter to come by.”

  He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Maybe, but I haven’t heard from him in a while.” He continued to the bathroom and shut the door.

  Elsa sat on the couch, still naked save for her boots, wondering why Lukas had just lied to her face.

  Her phone pinged. She reached around to grab it from the table behind the sofa. It was Faust. The twenty-four-hour waiting period had run out, and he was expecting her immediately. There was no time to grill Lukas. She would have to put this on the backburner for now. Rising, she headed for the spare bathroom scooping up her clothing along the way. A quick clean up, and she was out the door. She didn’t bother to say goodbye.

  Chapter Fifteen

  BIRGITTA MAHLER THREW her purse down on the hall table as she stepped inside her flat. Her 7:00 p.m. appointment at Madame Denouve’s had turned into four hours of interviews with more sex workers than she ever imagined in one place. Apparently, Minister Obermeyer enjoyed a great variety in his dalliances. Four of them were men, a fact that surprised her since the man went out of his way to behave as an overbearing womanizing chauvinist.

  Out of the seventeen individuals she spoke with, only one set off her alarm. Bierkit Wiedner. Professionally, she was known to the minister as Marilyn, a cultured escort, however, Bierkit was originally a poor woman from a working-class family that came from the Rhein region near Frankfurt. She was thirty-two, but told clients she was twenty-three, and sh
e looked it. Her youthful appearance was almost doll-like, and her figure was that of a 1920’s cinema starlet, but it was her eyes that struck Mahler. For all their charm, the large, round, blue orbs fringed in thick false eyelashes lacked an ounce of warmth. There seemed to be no soul inhabiting the doll-like body. When asked questions, her answers came across as truthful and unrehearsed, but there was something not quite right. Mahler just couldn’t put her finger on it. She’d made a tick in her notebook and intended to run a more detailed background check on her in the morning. Then, something else occurred.

  On the way out to her car, Salome stopped her.

  “Leaving so soon?”

  Mahler turned from opening her car door, surprised. “So soon? I’ve been here longer than I cared to be already.” Exhaustion and irritation crept into her voice, an unusual breach of her usually stoic persona.

  The woman sauntered closer, stopping to rest against the car door, effectively preventing Mahler from opening it. Salome stared hard at the detective, a sly smile on her painted lips. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Annoyed, Birgitta took in a slow, steadying breath before replying. “I cannot discuss an open investigation.”

  Salome leaned in, reaching out to touch the lace at the collar of Mahler’s black cocktail dress. It was Asian in design, fitted, with cap sleeves and a mock turtleneck of black lace. Birgitta had paired it with a multi-colored silken pashmina, mid-height black pumps, and a small red clutch bag. It was as close to an elegant after-five outfit as she owned, and one she’d worn on only one other occasion, her third official date with Joseph.

  “He’s rather a bastard to them, you know.”

  “Who?” The statement had caught Mahler off guard as the woman continued to invade her personal space.

  “The minister. He’s a bastard to them all...when he’s here. The only time he’s kind is when he takes them out on dates outside these walls.”