The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set

by Michele E. Gwynn

  Elsa felt her stomach clench into a tight knot. Her mind raced even as she fought to keep the bile down threatening to rise.

  Next to her, the Butcher remained still, breathing deeply.

  “Is this your solution for us as well?” she whispered.

  “There can be no other.” He turned his head, catching her eye.

  “I beg to differ.” Her voice strengthened.

  He raised one eyebrow, surprised. “Do you?”

  Elsa turned, facing him fully, eyes determined and spine stiff. “Yes. You owe me.” Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she pulled a folded envelope out of her coat pocket. Reaching out, she handed it over.

  Brezhnev took it, unfolding the parchment, and extracting the letter inside. He recognized the missive he’d sent so many months ago. Finally, he looked up. “So, you’re calling in your marker.”

  From the other side of the desk, Faust and Heinz sat confused, watching them, waiting to see what the Butcher’s next move would be, ready to spring into action, to go down fighting.

  “I am. I had no idea I would need it. Didn’t even know what you looked like until yesterday, but I figured if we ran into trouble, I could call on you for help. What I didn’t count on was you being that trouble.”

  He refolded the paper, handing it back. “My offer was for you, not anyone else.” His steely gaze rejected her claim.

  Elsa lifted her chin, straightening her back as she stood her ground. “Then you should have been more specific when you wrote this. I’m calling in the favor, and it’s for us all.” She swung her red-tipped fingernail in a circle. “Me, Heinz, Faust,” she took a deep breath, “and Marlessa’s child.”

  A short bark of laughter erupted from Brezhnev. “My God, you have balls, woman!”

  Elsa narrowed her green eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “Yes, and I wear them on my chest. I believe mine are bigger than yours, Gospodin!” Elsa let her inner dominatrix out, injecting as much authority into her voice and posture as possible without going too far. She refused to back down. Their lives depended on this working.

  “And just how is this solution you’re proposing benefiting me?” He stepped closer, nostrils flaring as he peered down at the feisty redhead.

  Elsa held his gaze and held her ground. “How is it not? We leave. We were never here. No mess. No interference in your business. No bodies to dispose of, and no more child in the way. It’s a win-win for us all.”

  “And just how do you propose leaving the country with the child? She has no papers. Have you even thought of that? The minute you try, you’ll trigger security causing me more problems.”

  “I thought about that.” The corner of her lip lifted in a self-satisfied smirk.

  “And? Please, Frau Kreiss, I’m breathless with anticipation.” Brezhnev’s words rang with sarcasm.

  “You’re going to smuggle us out on one of your ships.”

  He paused. His blue eyes went wide with surprise.

  “Well, why not? You smuggle people in all the time. Getting someone out should not be a problem.” She continued on. “Remember, Brezhnev, no international incident on your doorstep. No dead German cops. No more barriers in the way of your business with the Colonel-general and the FSB. That should be more than worth the effort as I’m sure you stand to profit greatly from whatever corrupt scheme you’re running.”

  The two stared each other down. The silence was deafening. Heinz and Faust sat, hardly breathing, watching the exchange.

  The mafia boss stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, considering her words. After two long minutes, he relented. “I will get you out.” He moved to his desk, picking up the phone, and dialing out.

  Faust quietly sent a prayer of thanks heavenward. Heinz caught Elsa’s eye. There was both censure and pride dwelling within his as he gave a slight shake of his head.

  Heinz rose slowly and painfully with a small assist from Faust. He walked to his protégé and placed an arm around her shoulders, hugging her. Together they looked out into the yard at the dead Russian officer, both knowing they’d escaped death only because Elsa managed to convince a killer that keeping them alive was not only in his best interest, but also that his honor demanded he deliver on a promise made. Now, they had only to wait, and hope they got out safely, and in time.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  BIRGITTA MAHLER’S EYES slowly opened. She focused, looking around the room. Next to her, a monitor beeped rhythmically in time with Minister Ritt Obermeyer’s heart. It was still beating. The man had been rushed into surgery to remove the bullet from his chest and repair the damage. After being moved into a room in surgical intensive care, Mahler had settled herself in for the night, falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning slumped in the world’s most uncomfortable chair.

  An IV pole supported bags of saline, antibiotics, and blood. Obermeyer lost quite a bit from both the initial gunshot wound as well as during surgery. A nurse had already come in to hook up a second unit of O-Positive after midnight, and again around 4:00 a.m. It was after that Mahler’s eyelids refused to remain open any longer. She didn’t feel too bad about it since Captain Levitz had sent over two officers to sit outside the door. If anyone had approached other than the medical staff approved by the department, they would have alerted her immediately.

  She sat up, stretching her arms over her head, and then cracking her neck by turning it first left, then right. There was a kink in the muscles from her uncomfortable sleeping position. Standing, she moved around to get the blood circulating. It helped. She pulled out her phone to check messages. Still no reply back from Joseph. Now she was angry. It had been more than twenty-four hours since she’d last heard from him. Quickly, she fired off a message, and another to Elsa. If anyone had heard from him, it would be her. Joseph checked on the young woman like a helicopter parent. It was nearly 7:30 a.m. so she knew Elsa would be up, and on her way into work. She decided to seek out a cup of coffee while she waited on her maid of honor’s reply.

  Outside the room, two tired-looking officers lifted themselves off the wall they were leaning against, trying to appear alert.

  “I’ll be back in a minute. Getting some coffee.” She nodded to them as she passed, then stopped. Looking back, she asked, “Can I bring you a cup?”

  The taller of the two smiled. “That would be wonderful, thank you, Detective.”

  The shorter one declined. “Never touch the stuff. But thanks.”

  Mahler raised one eyebrow and turned continuing down the hall. “Suit yourself. Be right back.”

  The patient lounge was located at the end of the hall near the elevators. Inside, a flat-screen television mounted on the wall ran the news. There was no one inside, but she did find a coffee vendor. Digging some coins out of her pocket, she dropped in the enough for two cups. Within moments, she had two steaming black coffees in hand. Nearby was a table stocked with swizzle sticks, sugar, and creamer cups. Hospital issued food stuffs, but they would do. She added in one sugar and one creamer to her own, stirring the contents. Not knowing how the officer liked his java, she simply grabbed a handful of sugar, creamer cups, and a swizzle stick along with a few napkins. He could fix his own. She sipped hers, taking a minute to appreciate the relative silence. It wouldn’t last. She needed to get back to Obermeyer.

  As she turned to leave, the on-air anchor interrupted the morning program with breaking news.

  “Last night, Minister of the Interior, Ritt Obermeyer, was shot while attending a ribbon cutting ceremony to honor the new Timberland Park in his neighborhood. Word on his condition has been tight as both the government and the police have offered very little information. This morning, a woman connected to Obermeyer was found dead in an Omni Hotel room located in the Kurfürstendamm district. The woman has been identified as Bierkit Wiedner, a high-end escort known to her clients only as Marilyn. The cause of death has not been determined but following on the heels of the attempt on the Minister’s life raises questions that the public woul
d like answered. We will keep you updated on this developing story.” The newscast went to a montage of images showing Obermeyer and Marilyn together on several occasions ranging from state functions to personal dinner dates. Mahler was not happy.

  She set the cups down and called Captain Levitz. On the second ring, he answered. “I suppose you’ve seen the news?” His dry sarcasm did not sit well with her.

  “I have. When were you going to tell me?” she snapped.

  “Calm down, Mahler. I only just found out myself thirty minutes ago. It’s not our borough. The news came down through the wire, and I’ve been trying like hell to gather as much information as possible first before alerting you.”

  “And what have you discovered?”

  “Not much yet. The woman was found by a maid who came in to clean the room. There are no obvious external wounds reported, and no blood. It could be an overdose, possibly foul play or even natural causes. Until the coroner makes an initial assessment and then performs an autopsy, we don’t know.”

  “Who was she with?”

  Levitz sighed. “That is the strange part. The room was rented in her name, but the manager swears someone else picked up the key. He said it was a petite blonde woman.”

  Mahler snorted. “Marilyn was a petite blonde woman, Captain. How does the manager know it wasn’t her?”

  “He was quite sure in his statement. The investigators did show him her picture, and he swears it wasn’t her. He said this woman wore dark sunglasses and didn’t speak much. We’re trying to get copies of the hotel’s closed-circuit cameras now. The manager says that they keep a camera trained on the front desk from two angles at all times. There should be an identifiable image of this mystery woman. I’ll let you know as soon as I know. How is the minister?”

  “Still alive. I’m on my way back to the room now. I was getting coffee.”

  “Get back in there. He’s your responsibility. I’ll call you soon.” Levitz hung up leaving Mahler shooting daggers at the now dead phone line through narrowed brown eyes.

  She wasn’t happy with this new twist at all. Worse, Elsa still had not called her back or sent a text. No one was answering her calls, and everyone seemed to be hiding something.

  “Well someone is going to give me some answers,” she mumbled, dialing.

  The phone rang five times before a sleepy, sultry voice answered. “Yes? Who is this?”

  “Salome, it’s Detective Mahler. I need your help.”

  There was a brief pause. “You realize it’s still dark outside, don’t you?”

  “Actually, it’s not. It’s nearly 8:00 a.m. I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep considering the hours you keep, but it’s important. Something has happened.”

  Mahler could hear the bed creak on the other end of the line. Salome inhaled deeply, trying to fully wake up.

  “Okay. What has happened?”

  “You saw the news last night?”

  “About the minister? Sure. Everyone was talking about it until Madame Denouve cracked the whip and told us to get back to work. She forbade us from discussing it with anyone, as if we would. Generally speaking, we don’t talk about one client with another.”

  “So it was business as usual last night?” Mahler inquired.

  “Pretty much.”

  “And was everyone in last night?” she pressed.

  “What do you mean by ‘in’?” Salome’s voice slurred slightly, still on the edge of sleep.

  “I mean, were all the employees present? Did anyone go out?”

  “Oh, I see. Well, yes and no, I guess. Karl was out for the afternoon. He didn’t take any new clients, as far as I know so I don’t know what he was doing. I didn’t see him return, but I suppose he did. I was busy last night. Oh, but Ekaterine had another visit from your Herr Trommler.”

  Lukas was there again? My God! Mahler knew she would need to deal with this soon. The longer it went on, the more she felt like she was betraying Elsa by not informing her of his infidelity. “How long did he stay?”

  “So you are interested in him! I wonder why?” The cat-like purr rolled off Salome’s tongue.

  “Salome...” Mahler admonished.

  “Okay, okay. I suppose he was here for about half an hour. Not long enough to truly enjoy what we offer, but enough time to bust a nut with the old gal. He really is very handsome.”

  Birgitta snorted. “Anyone else?”

  “Well, Marilyn went out after 9:00 p.m. I don’t know who she was meeting. I haven’t checked the book.”

  “Can you look for me? It’s very important.”

  “Why? What’s the big deal? What did the little hell-cat do?”

  “She’s dead, Salome. She was found this morning. That’s all I can say for now, and I need you to keep this to yourself. It’s an open investigation, you understand?” Mahler put every ounce of authority into her voice.

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. I need you to see who she was meeting last night and call me back. Don’t tell anyone, not even Madame Denouve. I don’t know who can be trusted right now.”

  “But you’re trusting me,” she said. There was something new in the woman’s tone. Astonishment, and a quiet respect.

  “I am. Can I trust your discretion, Salome?”

  “Yes, Detective,” she answered, her words assuring, “yes, you can.”

  “Good. Call me as soon as you have that information. Thank you, Salome.” Mahler ended the call.

  She checked her text messages. Still no answer from Elsa or Joseph. Anger bubbled to the surface. She refocused on the case and fired off a quick text to Jensen Niederlander. She needed information, and hoped he’d found more about the IP address. Things were quickly spinning out of control, and she knew she had to get it all in hand before everything came to a head. She knew, also, that she would have to confront Lukas. It was going to be damned awkward, uncomfortable, and ugly, but his indiscretion couldn’t be allowed to continue. He had to choose. She wasn’t going to give him any other choice.

  AT THE HOUSE IN REINICKENDORF, Salome made her way downstairs and across the foyer to the small office she used assisting Madame Denouve. The Madame was not yet up and about. For that matter, most of the house still slept. They wouldn’t rise until much later in preparation for the night ahead. Salome intended to use the quiet time to find out just who it was the Marilyn met with last night. Time was running out before police would show up at their doorstep with questions once they connected the dots between Bierkit Wiedner, aka Marilyn, and the high-end escort service.

  Inside the office, she flipped on the light, closing the door quietly. The leather-bound book was locked away in her drawer. Only she and Madame Denouve had a key. Sitting behind the desk, she inserted her key and unlocked the drawer, sliding it open. Salome didn’t remember making an appointment for Marilyn for last night so the only other person who could have would’ve been the Madame.

  She found last night’s column and ran her finger down the list of names until she found BW, the initials for Bierkit Wiedner/Marilyn. No appointment listed, which was odd.

  There was no arranged rendezvous with the minister or anyone else. And still, Marilyn went out. She closed the book, placing it back inside the desk drawer, and locking it. Pulling out her cell phone from the pocket of her robe, she called the detective back. It rang twice and went straight to voicemail.

  “Detective Mahler, it’s Salome. I have that information for you. I found no appointments listed for Marilyn last night. I have nothing else to offer as to why she was at the Omni. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you.”

  She ended the call. No sooner had she walked out of the office, when the doorbell chimed alerting her of visitors. Time had run out. The police were outside, and the Madame was not going to be pleased with the attention Marilyn’s death would bring to her business, and neither would
the owner. Taking a deep breath, she mentally prepared herself for the next few grueling hours. Salome threw her shoulders back and sauntered to the front door, opening it wide, and smiling her most inviting smile at the officers standing before her.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. And how may I help you?”

  The taller of the group stepped forward, stern-faced, and held out an official document. “We have a warrant to search the premises. Please inform the owner immediately.” The officers pushed past, filing into the large foyer. Salome stood holding the papers. With calm deliberation, she marched upstairs to Madame Denouve’s boudoir.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A FULL DAY PASSED INSIDE the home of Vladimir Brezhnev. Heinz, Elsa, and Faust were treated cordially, even fed as the Butcher made his arrangements. All went well until Colonel-general Vasiliev showed up with a small entourage of FSB agents in tow. The three were quickly escorted upstairs to the corner room on the third floor where Arkady locked them in. Brezhnev made sure to hide their whereabouts. His men had already disposed of Sokolov’s body, cleaning up the mess outside with the help of a fresh afternoon snowfall.

  “What do you think is going on down there? Elsa asked.

  Heinz shrugged, careful not to move too much. “I imagine the Kremlin is none too happy with Brezhnev’s police mole being investigated. They will be even less pleased when they discover he’s gone missing. I wonder if the butcher will tell them the truth, that he assassinated the man in cold blood?”

  “I don’t think he would be so foolish,” Faust added. “But I do feel rather guilty about it. Despite the man being corrupted, he was an officer of the law and a family man. I’d prefer to have seen him prosecuted, not executed.”

  “Why do you feel guilty, Herman?” Heinz asked.

  “Because I had HackTwice dig up information on him. I really thought my hacker was better than that, but I suppose everyone has an off day. It’s just that most people’s off days don’t end with a bullet in someone’s head.”