“She goes nowhere without me!” Faust rose, but the muscular goon pushed him back down into the chair.
“Calm yourself, old man.” Brezhnev sent a look to his henchman. “If he moves, shoot him.”
Elsa cringed. She kept her face neutral, but there was real fear in her eyes now when she glanced at Faust. He offered her a reassuring nod.
“Come, my dear.” Brezhnev waited for Elsa to place her hand in his.
Tamping down her own trepidation, she complied. He stepped forward on gold-slippered feet. Even his pajama bottoms were bronze silk. He spared no expense, it seemed.
“Where are we going?” Elsa dared ask.
They walked through the narrow hallway to a much larger hall of marble flooring with gold wainscoting. Above that, the walls were covered in rich damask wallpaper and decorated with priceless works of art. She wondered briefly why criminals were so devoted to art even as they were committed to killing in cold blood.
“So much excitement this morning. I haven’t even had time to dress. At least, in your case, it was a pleasant surprise. A beautiful woman is never unwelcomed.”
She chose not to respond to his statement, especially since he hadn’t answered her question. They continued through the house, entering a wing off to the east. It was colder in this section and appeared as if it was not used often. He led her up a staircase two flights. When they reached the third-floor landing, they proceeded down the hall to a room at the far end. It was there, he gave a perfunctory knock before entering. He held her hand in a gentlemanly fashion the entire time.
“This is what I’d like your input on...Officer Elsa Kreiss.”
The words hung on the air, exploding like a grenade. Elsa stopped breathing even as her eyes took in the man tied to the bed, one eye swollen shut, and lip busted open, bleeding.
“How?” was all she could say, still trying to control her inner turmoil.
Brezhnev snorted. “How, indeed. I found you once before, as you may remember. I have an entire file on you, pictures included. Did you think I would not know who you are? Now, tell me, truthfully please, what you are doing here. I can see you know him. And don’t try telling me he is your boyfriend or your father.”
Heinz looked up at Elsa through one eye, surprise evident on his face. He shook his head “No”, but she turned away, ignoring his plea.
Brezhnev crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. “He is my mentor, Kommissar Joseph Heinz. And the man downstairs is my superior, Direktor Herman Faust of the LKA. We came here to find Joseph, to bring him home.”
“Tell me why he is here?” He pointed at Heinz.
“To find out what happened to Marlessa Schubert. She was his daughter’s dearest friend, and she disappeared eight years ago. We found a ledger on the Vledelets. Yuri Ivchencko kept precise records, and her name was in that book. He is the one who took her and brought her to your warehouse.” Elsa’s voice became sharper as she spoke, and her last words were accusatory. Her green eyes shot sparks at Brezhnev.
His face went rigid. “Careful,’ he said, his voice low.
“I don’t know why you’re acting offended. You’re the Bratva’s leader. Your organization traffics young women and girls. Why deny it now when we both know it is the truth!”
“Elsa!” Heinz spoke, trying to stop her from getting them killed.
“Nein! I will not hold my tongue. We’re here. He knows. The jig, as they say, is up. You want answers? I want answers.” She refocused on Brezhnev. “Tell us, Butcher, what did you do to that poor young girl? Where is she now?”
The man reached out, grabbing her hand, painfully. He yanked her out of the room.
Heinz struggled with his bonds, shouting, “Elsa! Don’t you hurt her, you bastard! I’ll kill you!”
She could still hear Heinz raging as she was pulled back down the hall, and down one flight of stairs.
On the second floor, they turned left, heading for a set of double doors. He threw the doors open and pushed her inside. It was a spacious suite. A tall, blonde woman standing at a mirror brushing her hair swung around, startled. Upon seeing Brezhnev, she immediately lowered her eyes, staring at the floor.
“Gospodin, how may I serve you?”
“Valentina, this is Officer Elsa Kreiss.” His voice held the edge of anger. “Show her what is left of Marlessa.”
What is left of her? Elsa felt horror rise up inside of her. She waited, fearing what she was about to see.
The woman called Valentina stiffened. She set her brush down on the vanity with a shaky hand and walked slowly toward a partially closed door located in the corner of her own room. She slipped inside. Elsa waited in silence, tension vibrating all around her.
The blonde woman reappeared, carrying something in her arms. As she moved closer, Elsa could see it was a child. She had curly blonde hair and was sound asleep.
Elsa stood stock still, shocked. “But this is a child.” She looked at Brezhnev.
He gave her a dark look. “Yes. Her child.”
“And where is Marlessa?”
“This is all that is left.”
“Are you saying she is dead?” Elsa pressed for confirmation.
“As I said, this is all that is left. Marlessa Schubert is dead.”
Elsa turned back to the sleeping child. Reaching out, she touched a curl. “What’s her name?”
Valentina answered, “Nikola.”
“And just what the hell are you going to do with a child in a place like this? Are you selling her too?” Anger returned. Elsa’s temper flared.
“You are pushing my limits, Elsa Kreiss.” He stepped closer, towering over her. “You would be wise to hold your tongue from here on out.”
Once again, he grabbed her hand, and yanked her out of the room, practically dragging her back down to the office. The relief on Faust’s face was telling.
“Petrovich, watch over our guests.” He turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Elsa asked.
Brezhnev paused, looking over his shoulder. “To get dressed, and to decide what I am going to do with you.” He left.
Elsa’s stomach flip-flopped. The muscular goon took up post outside of the office while Petrovich stood just inside the door, hands crossed in front of his body as he stood at attention, watching them.
“What happened?” Faust asked, aware that Petrovich did not understand.
“Joseph is alive, Herman.” She felt a wave of emotion rise threatening to spill out of her eyes, but swallowed it down, taking a deep breath.
“What? How do you know?”
“He’s upstairs, on the third floor of the east wing. He’s hurt. It looks like they beat him badly, but he’s alive.”
Faust blew out a breath. “Thank God.”
“But that’s not the worst of it. Brezhnev knows who we are.” She paused. “Well, he knew who I was all along, so he extrapolated from that. He knows all of our identities.”
“Dammit! Elsa, this is not good.” He rubbed his hands together.
“There’s still more.” Her voice lowered.
“What? How could there be more?”
“The Schubert girl...” she began.
“Don’t tell me she’s alive in this house too? God, Kreiss, it has been eight years!” He sounded incredulous.
“No,” she said, “no, she’s not alive. I don’t know the details of her death, but Herman, she had a child. That child is upstairs now. She can’t be more than three years old.” Her voice caught.
“Jesus, he’s not...” he let the question hang.
“I don’t think so. He became very angry when I asked.”
Faust covered his face with his hands. “It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you on the spot.” He looked up. “Elsa, you must be more careful. He’s not a man you can control. He’s very dangerous.”
“I’m aware of that. I just,” she bit her lip, “it’s a child, Herman. A toddler. If he was selling her out, I wouldn’t hesitate to tear his testicles off an
d feed them to him.”
“I understand, but I need you to keep a cool head. We have to think of a way out of this mess or else we’re all doomed.”
A full half hour passed before Brezhnev returned. His silken pajamas were replaced with a tailored Italian suit in slate gray accented by a black cashmere turtleneck sweater beneath, and a pair of polished Prada Spazzolato Captoe Oxfords. There wasn’t a hair out of place.
The Butcher walked behind his desk and sat down. He gestured to a henchman waiting in the hall. “Bring them in,” he ordered.
The man left. Elsa kept her hands in her lap, staring Brezhnev down despite her fear.
“So, what have you decided to do with us?” Boldly, she pinned him with her green eyes.
A smile spread across his lips. “You are quite spirited, my dear. Truly, you live up to the reputation of redheads. A real firebrand.” His smile disappeared. “But you’ve caused me a problem, and for that, I must decide upon a solution.” He turned to Faust. “Her, I understand. She’s a woman, and as such, is ruled by her emotions. It is expected that one such would have the heart of a lion when it comes to the young women who end up being employed in homes like my own,” Elsa began to protest his reference to employment, but he held his hand up to stop her, continuing speaking to Faust, “but as for you, a high-ranking Direktor of the Landeskriminalamt, no less, and Kommissar Heinz, I am baffled. Surely your being here is not on the order of the German State?” He raised his eyebrow.
When Faust remained silent, merely offering a steely stare, Brezhnev nodded. “I thought not. This leaves me with somewhat of a dilemma. You see, on one hand, I can easily kill you all since I’m sure now you’ve not told anyone of your true whereabouts or mission.” He paused, reflective. “On the other hand, I’ve learned only this morning that your being here has caught the attention of the FSB, and while I do have some influence in that direction, a dead German State LKA Direktor, a KriminalKommissar, and,” he looked at Elsa, “a lovely new Schutzpolizei,”
“Landespolizei,” Elsa corrected.
Brezhnev raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Congratulations on your promotion. The Ivchencko arrests?” he inquired.
Elsa nodded.
“You obviously made an impression. I know I, myself, was impressed with your intelligence in coming to the conclusion that turning Yuri over to me was in everyone’s best interest.” He cleared his throat even as Faust’s face registered the absurdity of the conversation happening between the head of the Russian mafia casually considering killing them, and his prisoners, as it were.
“You were saying?” Faust prompted
“Yes, as I was saying, the three of you are a problem. You see, you’ve compromised my police contact. Sokolov has been,” he paused, “valuable to me. Now, since someone has been digging around in his personnel file, the FSB is alerted.”
“I don’t understand,” said Elsa, “if the FSB is working with you, why do they care about your connection to Sokolov? Everyone is already compromised in this web of corruption. Why worry over who looks into Sokolov’s file?”
Brezhnev leaned back, crossing his ankle over his knee as he regarded Elsa. “It’s etiquette. Like the wife of a rich man knowing he is having an affair with the help. It’s politely ignored...until such time as it finds its way out into the open. That is the point at which it becomes a problem. My affairs are now out into the open. My inside informant at the Kremlin tells me Sokolov kept an encrypted file on me detailing every single job he performed at my request. A sort of death insurance policy for his family’s honor. Your Kommissar’s supposed roadside death included.” He pinned Elsa with a glare. “Quite inconvenient. This creates a public relations nightmare for my business dealings with the FSB and, in particular, Colonel-general Vasiliev.” Brezhnev sighed. “He is a man of particular tastes. Sokolov has kept a file on him too, this one at my request, for a year. This is my own insurance policy, but now that your meddling has outed him, Sokolov has become a liability to both the FSB, and to me.”
Footsteps behind them alerted Elsa and Faust. They both turned. The henchman returned pushing a stumbling Heinz, and the police captain, Sokolov, into the office. Heinz collapsed just short of Elsa’s chair. She reached out, helping him sit upright next to her.
“See? Women and their soft hearts.” Brezhnev stood. “Now, I have to fix this mess before any more damage is done.”
Heinz concentrated on his breathing, holding his left side. He was sure a rib or two was cracked. Faust reached out a hand to grip his shoulder. Elsa kept her own hand on the back of his head, offering as much comfort as she could under the circumstances. It did nothing to ease his guilt in knowing it was his fault they were now embroiled in his mess, and that they may all be dead within the hour.
“Why?” he wheezed out.
“Why what?” Faust asked.
Heinz cast his eyes sideways at his friend. “Why did you come here? And for God’s sake, Herman, why did you bring Elsa?”
“Hey! I’m right here,” she protested. “You can address me directly.” Irritation flashed in her eyes.
Faust sighed. “Did you think I’d really let you waltz into the Russian Federation all by yourself without keeping tabs on you?”
“You said once I was here, I would be on my own!” Heinz winced, pained by his growing anger and frustration.
“I lied. Get over it,” Faust said. “You’re my oldest friend, Joseph. There was no way I wouldn’t come for you when my contact failed to check in. As for why I brought Kreiss,” he glanced at her, “she nagged me.”
Elsa half choked on a combination of outrage and indignation. Now really wasn’t the time, she knew, for any of this.
“What happened to my contact, by the way,” Faust whispered.
Heinz inhaled slowly, trying to ease the agony the action caused. He kept his voice low, noting that the Butcher was speaking to his subordinates behind them. “She was compromised, but she should be crossing the Finnish border as we speak. She’ll be okay.”
Faust felt some relief. Ms. Karakova did not deserve to be caught up in this dangerous situation. The private investigator came highly recommended through HackTwice who’d run a most thorough background check on her. All Faust needed at the time was someone who could identify Joseph, keep an eye on his whereabouts, and report daily that his friend was still alive. He knew the woman had previously been in law enforcement so she had a particular ethical code that Faust could relate to, and he knew she had a son. Now Karakova and her son were running for their lives, away from the country of their birth, and would not be able to return home again. For that, he felt guilty. “I’m glad to hear she will be safe.”
“Herman, you need to get Elsa out of here. I’ll make a bargain with Brezhnev—"
“You will do no such thing! We are not leaving you,” Elsa whispered.
Heinz looked at her. He reached out, taking her hand. “Listen to me. You must live. Anno still needs you, and you have Lukas.”
“And you have Birgitta,” she said. “What about her? And what about the child?”
Caught off guard, Heinz’s eyes popped wide. “Child? What child?”
“The one upstairs.” Elsa pointed a finger at the ceiling.
The look on his face registered shock. “She’s here? In the house right now?”
“You knew?” Elsa raised a delicate brow.
“Not until this morning. Sokolov spilled the beans. You’ve seen her?”
Elsa bit her lip. “Yes, after I saw you in the room. Someone called Valentina is caring for her, but this is no place for a child, Joseph. We have to get her out of here. We just need a plan.” She looked at Faust, her eyes pleading with him to think of something. The man shrugged, appearing stumped.
Breshnev returned his attention to them. Petrovich grabbed Sokolov by the arm and began pulling him out of the room. Having felt relatively secure in his position as the Bratva’s police informant thus far, the change in treatment surprised Sokolov.
“Go
spodin, no! I am still your man. There is no need for this. I won’t tell anyone anything, I promise!” Sokolov resisted the goon’s force, pleading for his life.
Vladimir Brezhnev stood unmoving; his cold eyes unblinking. “Do not worry, Comrade Sokolov. Your daughter will be immediately returned to your wife. Of course, this means our deal is off, and Mrs. Sokolov will have to make new educational arrangements for her, but the sins of the father will not be visited upon the daughter. And of course, you will not be telling any tales. Did you think I wouldn’t find your file on me? It has been destroyed already, by my own inside man.”
A second henchman stepped in, grabbing the captain’s other arm. Together, they dragged him away.
“No! No, you don’t have to...” Sokolov’s voice carried down the hall, fear pouring out in every desperate cry.
Brezhnev walked to Elsa’s side, once again offering his hand. This time, she refused to take it. “Suit yourself, but please, come to the window.” He backed up, giving her room.
She stood, inching around the desk, and approaching the multi-paned window. Brezhnev came up behind her. Outside, Petrovich and the second man marched Sokolov to a clearing in the yard. It was covered in snow, marred only by their footprints. Behind them, another thug with dark hair and a short beard approached. He carried an assault rifle slung over his shoulder, and in his hand, a 9 mm outfitted with a silencer. When he came around to stand in front of them, Sokolov saw the gun and began to scream. Petrovich punched him in the side of the head, knocking the short, portly police captain to his knees. He remained there, sobbing now, and holding his head in a protective manner. The dark-haired man moved into position over him, aiming the handgun. He glanced up at the window. Brezhnev nodded once.
The gun fired four times; two shots in the head, and two in the chest. Sokolov was dead, his life blood staining the pristine white snow a dark crimson.
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 62