SHE FELT LIKE SHE’D no sooner laid down when her phone rang. Bleary-eyed, Mahler reached over to grab it off the nightstand. The time said she’d been knocked out for three hours. The phone number identified the caller as Niederlander.
“Tell me you have news,” she grumbled into the speaker.
“I have news,” he chuckled. “Someone didn’t get any sleep, I take it?”
“I was sleeping. You woke me, so it better be good.”
Jensen Niederlander sobered. “Sorry, Detective. I know you had a long night. I got a hit on that IP address on an obscure social media site.”
“Yes?”
“It belongs to a Rudolf Oppel.”
Birgitta sat up. “Say again?” She rubbed her eyes.
“Rudolf Oppel. Does that help?”
Mahler sat thinking. RO was Ritt Obermeyer in her mind. She couldn’t quite believe that it escaped her that RO could also be Rudi Oppel. He was annoying and unpleasant, but she hadn’t pegged him as a criminal mastermind, much less as someone who would own brothels. “That doesn’t make sense,” she muttered. “What was the social media site?”
Jensen’s fingers clacked over his keyboard, the sound transmitting over the phone line. “It’s a dark site for people with all kinds of weird fetishes. It’s billing itself as Benders & Enders. Kind of a dating site for those whose sexual proclivities go beyond the usual.”
“He has a profile on this site?”
“Yeah, but not under the name I gave you. That’s what showed up on the account, but the profile members see is for a Rachel. I can send you a screen shot.”
Mahler’s eyebrow shot up. “Rachel? Are there pictures?”
“Oh yeah. I suppose if I were drunk enough, I might be fooled. God, I hope that never happens,” he said. “Hold on, I’ll shoot it over to your phone.”
“Okay.” She waited until her phone buzzed indicating a new text had arrived. When she opened the file, her eyes bugged. There he was, or she was. Rudi Oppel, the slim, elegant gentleman she’d met was fully made up from lipstick to fake eyelashes, wearing a tight red dress, nylons, stilettos, and a blonde wig. He/she was standing in the half light of a lamp in a well-appointed bedroom casting a seductive gaze at the camera. Niederlander was right. Under the right circumstances, he could fool someone. Like a hotel desk clerk checking him in late at night under subdued hotel lighting. His entire look was very similar to the now deceased Bierkit Wiedner, also known as Marilyn. This changed everything.
“Jensen, I need you to dig up everything you can on Rudolf Oppel. Get it to me as quickly as possible. I’ll start you off in the right direction. He’s the undersecretary to Obermeyer. Got that?”
“I got it, and holy crap! Damn, Detective. Working with you is never boring. I’ll get right on it and get back to you as fast as I can.”
“Good. Thank you.” She ended the call and sat on the edge of the bed. Oppel was the woman in the hotel video surveillance. Her instincts were certain, but she needed confirmation. She called Levitz and forwarded the text message. He’d seen the video. He’d know right away when he opened the copy of the screenshot. Mahler relayed all the information Jensen had found, and what she knew.
Captain Levitz put out an APB to all units. Oppel was to be brought in immediately for questioning, and his home searched including all computerized devices for evidence.
“Stay put, Mahler. I’ve got people on it. I’ll call as soon as I get word we’ve got him. Go back to sleep.” He hung up.
Birgitta stared at her phone. “Go back to sleep? That’s not going to happen.” She knew sleep would not return anytime soon. She really wanted to talk to Joseph. He still had not messaged or called. Frustrated, she dialed Faust’s cell. It rang four times before hitting the voicemail. Angry, she tried his office. His secretary, Lora, answered.
“He’s on a training exercise, Detective. Can I take a message?” Lora explained.
“Training?” Herman? “Sure. Yes, please have him call me as soon as possible.” She started to hang up and stopped. “Wait! Lora?”
“Yes, Detective?”
“Can you connect me to Officer Elsa Kreiss?” Since her maid of honor hadn’t responded, she decided to hunt her down. She hadn’t even congratulated her yet on her promotion, having only heard of it in her last call from Joseph. It seemed like a lifetime ago already.
There was a pause. “Officer Kreiss is also out on a training exercise,” she replied.
“Both of them?” She sighed. “Trying to train up the new agent?”
“I believe so.” Lora added, “Shall I leave her a message as well?”
“Yes, I suppose. Any idea when they will return?”
“I couldn’t say. The Direktor left it open.”
That was unusual. Generally, training was a set curriculum. The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. It was not normal for the Direktor of the LKA to personally oversee the training of a new agent. Mahler didn’t think that even Elsa’s status as a personal friend of a friend would warrant such attention. “Thank you, Lora. Please leave them both a message from me.” She hung up and made a mental note. Before she had time to second guess her actions, she called Anno. A brother would know where his sister was, surely.
“Anno, it’s Birgitta.”
“Oh, hallo. What’s wrong?” Anno sounded like he was in a hurry.
“Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?” she asked.
“Well, you don’t usually call me. The few times I’ve heard from you have always been bad news.” He chuckled. “But if nothing is wrong, I’m happy. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry, Anno. I had not thought about that before. Anyhow, I’m trying to track down your sister.”
“Aren’t you always?”
“Seems that way.”
“She didn’t tell you?” he asked.
“Tell me what?”
“About her training. Old Faust sent her on some training exercise.”
“Oh, that. I only just found out, actually. Have you heard from her?”
“Not since a couple days ago. Oh, and I picked out the groom’s cake. It’s a chocolate ganache with a raspberry filling. Hope that’s okay. It was delicious. She did say Joseph prefers a sweet filling in his cakes.”
This was news to her. “Two days ago?” She hadn’t heard from Joseph for three days. And now both Elsa and Faust were on some unnamed training exercise together. Something wasn’t right. Her instincts were twitching all over the place. “That’s fine. Thank you, Anno. Please have her call me if you hear from her.”
“I will. Oh, and Birgitta. I heard from Sarah. She’s coming to the wedding.”
She could hear the excitement in his voice. Since he’d first met Sarah Brown, Anno had had a crush on the American woman whom they’d all come to know three years ago when that wretched Dutch pedophile, Peter Knudson, kidnapped him. Thankfully, they were able to rescue the boy before any harm came to him, and she still wasn’t sorry that the monster had been fatally shot in the rescue.
“That is wonderful news. I’m looking forward to seeing her again. Is she bringing a date?”
“What? Birgitta! Bite your tongue,” he laughed. “No, she didn’t mention a date. Maybe this will finally be my chance. I’m a grown man now, after all.”
She rolled her eyes. Anno was only one year younger than her own son, Jan. Both were currently attending university. “Whatever you say, Anno. Okay, I must go. Give her the message for me, and call if you need anything.”
“Okay. Take care, and see you soon.”
As she sat there, she knew there was one more important task to tackle. She needed to see Lukas. Mahler got up and headed to the shower. An hour later, clean, dressed, and ready to beard the lion in his den, she headed out.
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE DAY DRAGGED ON as officers combed through the house in Reinickendorf. Madame Denouve remained cool and aloof, cooperating only as much as was legally necessary. She made a call from the
phone in her sitting room before they were herded into the salon. Salome noticed, but was not privy to whom she’d called. The old woman stayed tight-lipped.
“So, what are we to do about tonight?” She asked, wondering how in the world they were to inform their patrons. If the police were still on site when they arrived, they’d likely never come back again. Their presence was bad for business.
“What can we do? We are cut off from using our own phones since they’ve confiscated them, cut off from entering the office. We have no way to forewarn tonight’s appointments. This is a disaster. Damn that Marilyn! Interfering in my business, even in death.”
Her last words made no sense but listening to the Madame rant coldly about her deceased employee made Salome’s blood boil. She didn’t care for Marilyn either, but that didn’t mean her life did not matter. Treating someone’s demise as an inconvenience showed a lack of soul as far as she was concerned. It bolstered her own desire to get away from them all. She was reaching the point of desperation, and fervently hoped the detective was a woman of her word or else she’d end up just like Marilyn. Dead, with no one caring one whit about her passing.
As police moved in and out of the house like busy ants, a black van pulled up in the driveway followed by an army Jeep. Men in black uniforms and face masks stepped out of the van. One approached the officer in charge, and their exchange turned heated. The officer stormed off, shouting at his men to stop what they were doing and to leave.
“What’s going on?” Salome asked Madame Denouve.
“Looks like the police have been pushed aside, but for who, I could not say. They look like Special Forces, but why? What did that foolish bitch get herself mixed up in?” Her silver brows furrowed.
Salome knew she referred to the deceased Marilyn. She was just as confused. Two of the black-masked men entered the house, and one passed her heading up the stairs. He glanced at her briefly, his hazel eyes touching on her own before he looked away, bounding up the stairs. She turned to watch as he entered Ekaterine’s room. Something about him felt familiar, but she couldn’t think why.
The other man entered the office. After twenty minutes passed, he came back out carrying a stack of files and the leather-bound appointment ledger. He gave instructions to another officer standing outside on the front porch to retrieve the safe from within the main office. Madame Denouve was then escorted outside where she was placed in the back of the Jeep. The man who’d taken the files from the office approached Salome.
“Are all the residents of the house here? Is anyone missing?” His dark eyes probed her own demanding answers.
“I don’t know. I’d only just awakened before you arrived,” she answered.
“Come with me. We will check every room. If anyone is unaccounted for, I want that person’s name. Understand?”
“Yes. I understand.” Salome felt his hand wrap around her upper arm, directing her up the stairs. Together they checked each room, ejecting the stragglers from the bedrooms, and sending them downstairs to the salon. Everyone was present except for Marilyn and Karl.
The masked officer did not show surprise at Marilyn’s absence, but asked questions about Karl; when she’d last seen him, what was he wearing, who did he entertain?
“I don’t know what he was wearing last or who he was with. You confiscated the appointment book. You can answer your own questions. As for when I last saw Karl, it was early yesterday. I passed him in the kitchen. He was leaving as I came in. We didn’t speak so I don’t know what he did after that or where he went. We’re all responsible for our own schedules.” Salome kept her answers short, feeling cornered.
“What about you? Where were you last night?” He pressed her for information.
“I was here. It’s in the book. You can confirm that.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” His tone was ominous. “Was Minister Obermeyer one of your clients?”
“Herr Obermeyer?” This threw her. “I thought this was about Marilyn?”
“Just answer the question. Did you service the Minister?” Brown eyes bore into hers.
Salome pulled her robe tighter, still not having yet dressed. The police raid prevented all of them from being properly attired. “Herr Obermeyer was a client of mine only once.”
“Really? Either you’re lying or something is wrong with you.”
“I am not lying, nor is there anything wrong with me. The Minister has particular tastes. I am not his type, thank God.” She muttered the last.
The officer chuckled mirthlessly. “Who did he indulge his particular tastes with?”
“Marilyn was one of his favorites.” The man nodded. “And Karl was his other regular.”
“The one who is now missing?” He gestured to the officer outside gaining his attention. That one walked over, joining them.
Salome nodded.
He turned, addressing his comrade. “Pull the file marked ‘Karl.’ Put out BOLO on him. We need to bring him in as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.” The officer left, jogging outside to the black van.
The one interrogating her directed her to a chair. “Stay put.”
“Where else would I go?” She snarked.
“Don’t be smart.” He walked to the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the top, he turned and entered Ekaterine’s room where the other masked militant went earlier. He still had not come out, and neither had Ekaterine. Salome watched, curious as to what was going on, and why the woman had not been forced from her room like everyone else. The questions about the Minister made her think of Detective Mahler. She wondered if these men were part of that investigation but considering the way in which Mahler approached Madame Denouve’s, it didn’t seem likely. Mahler was discreet and investigating at the request of Obermeyer. At least, that was her understanding. These men were anything but discreet with their early morning raid, and the warrant presented by the first group of police cited the sudden death of Bierkit Wiedner, aka Marilyn, as the catalyst for the search. How the death of one prostitute could prompt two conflicting searches, one a special operations tactical squad, to come and toss the premises of a legal bordello made no sense at all.
Salome wanted to call Mahler, but her phone had been taken along with the rest. She still had her business card. All she needed was access to a phone. Across the hall, the others sat whispering among themselves, gossiping. Madame was still sitting in the back of the Jeep outside. The officer from the front porch was still standing by the van, and the two upstairs had yet to come out. Carefully, she stood, trying to remain calm and cool. There was a powder room down from Madame’s office. One door beyond was a small reading room. It wasn’t used much by anyone except Madame. It was her quiet place, but there was a phone, the one she’d used earlier to make her own call. If she could get to it, she could call the detective.
Acting casual, Salome walked to the door of the powder room. If anyone asked where she was headed, it would be her alibi. Once there, she glanced over her shoulder checking to see if anyone watched. She was in the clear. Five more steps had her inside the small library with the door closed. She ran to the phone.
THERE WAS NO ANSWER to her knock. Lukas was not at work, where she’d first checked, nor was he at home. The assistant at the Georg Nothelfer Gallery said Lukas had not been in at all that day, and had, in fact, been absent quite a bit lately. Bitchy employees tired of being left to run things were the best sources of information.
She was about to use less than ethical measures to hunt him down when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
“Mahler,” she answered.
“Detective,” a voice whispered low, “it’s Salome.”
“Why are you whispering?” Birgitta stepped into the elevator heading back down to the garage.
“Because we are being raided!”
“Raided? By the police? What for?” She knew police would be going around to the residence in Reinickendorf to speak with Madame Denouve regarding the death of Bierkit Wiedner, but over
-dramatizing it as a raid seemed a bit stretched. “I’d hardly call routine questions a raid, Salome.”
“There is nothing routine about this, Detective. There is an entire special forces team here tossing the place.”
This stopped Mahler in her tracks. “What do you mean? Special Forces?”
“Yes, men in masks. They arrived in a black van along with an army Jeep. They have the Madame in the back of the Jeep now, and the rest of us herded like criminals into the salon. I snuck out to call you. They’ve confiscated our phones! They’re asking about the minister too.”
The panic in Salome’s voice set off her own alarm bells. “Salome, I have to make a call. Don’t talk to anyone if you haven’t already. I’ll be in contact.” She hung up and immediately dialed out.
“Captain, it’s Mahler. What do you know about a raid on the brothel in Reinickendorf?”
Levitz paused. “What raid? All that is ordered is a simple bench warrant for the deceased’s residence. Just routine investigation into Wiedner’s death.”
“That’s what I thought.” Over the next few minutes, she filled her captain in. By the time she was finished, he was on the horn to higher ups to gather information and simultaneously gathering a squadron of available officers.
“Meet me there in twenty minutes.” Levitz’s no-nonsense voice gave the order.
Mahler left the apartment complex, driving quickly to the other side of town. Traffic flowed with only one minor hiccup in the off-rush hour. She pulled up to the house amid five police vehicles. An angry Captain Levitz stepped out of the lead car storming like a bull inside the house. Birgitta followed, trailed by two of the four remaining officers outside.
“Who is in charge here?” Levitz bellowed.
Two battle-camouflaged men stepped out of a room at the top of the stairs, looking down into the foyer. Seeing Levitz, they made their way down, coming to a stop in front of him.
Mahler glanced at them both, first one, and then the other. Her perusal stopped when she met the eyes of the second masked man. Something about him seemed familiar. His gaze darted away from hers focusing on Levitz. The masked man in front of him spoke.
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 65