“Yes?” He answered, listening. “How long ago?”
Faust and Heinz locked eyes.
Brezhnev exhaled, anger evident on his face. “Thank you for the information.” He hung up, and reached forward between Elsa and Heinz, tapping the divider between the front and backseat. The tinted glass slid down.
“We have a problem. Head for the far end of port. Take the alley. Petrovich, call Captain Lukin. Tell him he’s about to get a visit from the Colonel-general, and to say nothing of our arrangement. Remind him of his obligation.”
Brezhnev sat back and looked at first Faust, then Heinz. “Someone has tipped off Vasiliev. He knows you’re here, and he knows I’m helping you.” He fired off a succession of harsh words, cursing colorfully.
“What? How?” Elsa asked, surprised.
“Valentina. It had to be her. She’s the only one within my house that knew, and the only one who would betray me to Vasiliev.”
“But why?” Heinz looked at the angry man across from him. He knew just how dangerous the Butcher was. It did not compute why anyone would be so foolish as to purposefully aggravate him, even though he’d only just done so, himself.
Faust broke his own silence. “Because of the child.”
Elsa hugged the girl closer.
Brezhnev looked at the little one, and then his gaze traveled up to lock eyes with Elsa. “Women,” he replied with derision. “Always reacting instead of thinking. Always causing a problem.”
Anger bubbled over inside of her. “Men! Always causing women problems. Of course she betrayed you. This child is all that she had. She loves her. In her mind, she has nothing left to lose after everything you’ve taken from her. Blame your own monstrous nature, not the victim you enslaved!”
He moved fast, slapping Elsa across the face. Heinz pushed himself between them, grabbing the Butcher’s arm, yanking it forward and twisting it around behind the man’s back as Faust snaked his own around Brezhnev’s neck, squeezing.
“You’re all dead if you do not let go of me now,” he choked out, face red as he struggled to breathe.
Elsa turned her head sideways, noticing the barrel of a gun next to her face pointed at the back of Heinz’s head. Petrovich’s hand was steady, his finger already pulling the trigger back.
“Stop! Everyone stop. The child!” She held the girl protectively even as her ears still rang and her cheek stung from being struck. Nikola whimpered, frightened.
Faust noticed the gun, and he loosened his grip, releasing Brezhnev who threw Heinz off, sending the injured detective back into his seat. The Butcher held up his hand.
“Cease. Make the call, Petrovich. We don’t have time for this now. And tell Lukin to ring me as soon as the Colonel-general and his men leave the ship.” He straightened his coat and jacket, fury lighting his blue eyes as he pinned Elsa with a glare. “You see? No control over your emotions. This is why you are the inferior sex.”
Elsa bit her tongue. Inside, her blood boiled, and her fingers itched for the grip of a cat-o-nine tails. Mentally, she was already flaying the skin from his back.
Heinz moved closer to Elsa, placing himself between her and Brezhnev. “If you ever touch her again, I will kill you. Your man won’t have time to save your ass before I do.” His threat rang with truth, his meaning clear.
The two men remained locked in a stare-down, neither giving in.
The limousine came to a stop. Petrovich leaned over the seat, looking back at them. “We’re here. Now what?”
Brezhnev looked out the window, down the dock. “Now, we wait. There is nothing aboard that ship as of yet. Our protocol remains in place. No illegal cargo loaded off the dock.”
“Then how do you plan to get us on board?” Heinz asked.
Brezhnev pointed toward a smaller pier along a rocky shoreline. “There. We keep several small fishing vessels tied there off the main dock. Petrovich will accompany you out to the Morskoy Drakon. The crew will throw down a ladder.”
“So we climb in?” Elsa’s eyes widened. “I’m carrying a child!”
“You wanted to take her. You’ll figure it out,” Brezhnev remarked.
The darkness lit up down the dock as a line of military Jeeps drove in turning toward the section where Warehouse 214 was located. Half of them split moving off to where the Morskoy Drakon was docked. The sounds of the engines were loud enough to reach them where they sat under cover of night waiting. The line of military vehicles came to a stop. The Colonel-general got out, flanked by three soldiers carrying what appeared to be Vityaz-SN submachine guns, the Kalashnikov variant, standard for all Russian military, and deadly. They tried entering the warehouse through the front but failed to bypass the electronic lock. One of the men went around the side. Shots rang out, followed by a bang. Within minutes, the large front door was sliding open, and Vasiliev and his men were inside. They tore through like vandals before exiting and heading down on foot to the ship. The Colonel-general looked angry from where they sat, watching.
“Out of curiosity, what will you do now that Vasiliev knows of your betrayal?” Faust asked, his face a study in German stoicism.
Brezhnev turned, quiet fury in his eyes, and looked at the Direktor. “Generally, it would not be good. However, I am not without my own leverage. The Colonel-general has secrets that would not only end his career, but his life if ever they were made known to the public.”
“You could have simply decided to turn us over to him at any time. Why didn’t you?” Heinz pinned the man with a glare, still simmering in his own anger. He did not want to let it go. It was his edge, and he needed it right now to bypass his physical pain, to stay sharp. He knew through his own experiences that their situation was unstable and could go south at any moment.
The Butcher lifted his chin. “Before Vasiliev knew I was helping you, it did not suit me. We are partners in business, Kommissar. It does not mean that I like the man. But now that he knows, it would be seen as a sign of weakness if I turned you over, that he holds the power, and that does not suit me either. As you must understand, in my position, power is everything. Any blood in the water, and the sharks come out. I run the Bratva like a well-oiled business organization. It takes great strength to keep everyone in line, to keep the machine turning a profit. Without my leadership, the factions would be fighting each other over scraps. There would be gang wars on every corner. Believe me. Had it not suited my needs, you would all be dead now. Vasiliev is trying to gain the upper hand. He is reacting to the information handed him by Valentina in the same manner that women,” he looked at Elsa, “react all the time, rashly and without forethought. He thinks he’s making a power play that will put him in control of our arrangement. The man is impulsive. I’ve known this from the beginning. It was how I lured him in, using his own sick desires, his own lack of control to bind him to me and to the Bratva. All I had to do was dangle a young, juicy carrot before him. And now, all I need do is wait until he runs out of steam. He will find nothing, and then he will leave, most likely to seek me out in my home. When he cannot find me, he’ll begin to worry, and when he worries, he’ll make more mistakes. In the interim, I’ll leak bits of information to the press. Just enough to send a clear message to the Colonel-general that he is treading on thin ice. He will be brought to heel. All I need do, Kommissar, is wait.”
His cold, calculated speech left them thinking hard in the quiet interior of the limousine.
“You really are a dangerous animal.” Heinz spoke low, eyes filled with disgust.
“Yes. Try to never again forget that.” Brezhnev’s thin smile sent a chill through him.
They sat in silence for half an hour. Finally, Brezhnev’s phone rang. The captain gave the all-clear as Heinz, Faust, and Elsa watched the line of military vehicles leave the dock.
“See? A waiting game. And we are only a little behind schedule.” The Butcher stepped out of the limo and extended his hand to Elsa. She refused, struggling to exit holding Nikola who clung to her. Heinz and Faust ex
ited the other side taking the basket provided by the cook at Brezhnev’s house.
Petrovich led them down the pier to a short set of stairs that descended to a smaller dock. A fishing boat was tied to a pylon, bobbing on the waves. He climbed aboard first, making his way to the tiny wheelhouse where he started the engine. Faust stepped in and reached up for the child. Elsa handed her down, which was not easy since Nikola did not want to let go. Heinz stood on the dock next to Brezhnev, the cold wind whipping his short hair. Frozen sea spray stung the cuts on his lips and eye reminding him that the Butcher possessed very little mercy, but he knew he had to try.
“I am not in the habit of asking criminals for favors, Brezhnev.” Heinz looked the man in the eye.
The corner of Brezhnev’s lip lifted sardonically. “And yet you are going to ask.”
Heinz stared at his nemesis. Hate filled him for all the girls this man had forced into sex slavery, for every single one that died at his hand, but he needed to push that aside. “Save her.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You know you can. You already have the Colonel-general’s number. You know how to manipulate him. She’s one person, one small fly in the ointment, and she was only there because I begged her to help me. She is innocent in all of this. Save her.”
“Manipulating him for my own gain is one thing. Doing so for you is another. You’ve already caused me problems, Kommissar. Even if I could save Ms. Karakova, why would I?”
On the boat, Faust helped Elsa get the child settled inside the wheelhouse. He glanced back at the two men on the dock, waiting. Heinz noted his friend’s scrutiny, turned, and began climbing down into the vessel. With his back to Herman, he returned his attention to Brezhnev.
“A favor for a favor. On my honor,” he whispered.
Brezhnev remained quiet as he stood, hands in the pockets of his overcoat, watching Heinz. With a barely discernable nod, he squatted down to the detective’s eye level. He stuck out his hand which was reluctantly clasped in return. “And I will collect.” With that, the leader of the Bratva rose, walked back up the pier to his waiting limousine, and left.
Chapter Twenty-Six
RETURNING TO THE HOSPITAL after her confrontation with Lukas left Mahler on edge. While she was happy to discover he hadn’t been cheating on Elsa, she was burdened with yet another secret; Lukas Trommler was an active-duty Special Operations agent for the Military Counterintelligence Service, or MAD, working directly with the Bundesnachrichtendienst (BND). The last they all knew was that he’d spent four years in the Marines ending his time as Kapitänleutnant Trommler. Of course, when Joseph asked him point blank why he’d processed out of the military, Lukas had answered, “That’s my business.” No one questioned him beyond that. They’d all simply assumed that since he worked at the gallery, he was a civilian. Now she found out that was only a ruse, and the man was actually a military intelligence agent, a true-to-life James Bond figure. She was now tasked with the responsibility of keeping this secret.
Stranger still was what Dieter shared. The BND had received a very specific request to investigate the office of the Minister of the Interior along with a file listing port authorization for ships that were never listed on the dockets, and exports that did not match up to any state inventory or businesses. There was also a separate file outlining ministry funding that did not add up. The files had been given over to agents to investigate who discovered the military munitions on the first ‘ghost’ ship they raided. This led to coordinating with MAD, which landed the investigation in the laps of both Dieter and Lukas. They’d been following the trail since, one which led to the house in Reinickendorf, and the cultivation of Ekaterine as an inside source.
What they didn’t know was who tipped off the BND or why. And now that Mahler had put them onto Oppel’s trail, it was all beginning to make sense, everything except for the threats on Obermeyer’s life. If the minister was not the one responsible for authorizing the incoming and outgoing illegal cargo of drugs and kidnapped women, then that left Oppel who would not want to rock the boat and draw attention to his activities. Only a lunatic would be so stupid.
All of these thoughts weighed on her as she walked down the hall and into Obermeyer’s room. It was time to relieve Edelmann. The ginger-haired officer stood as she stepped inside. He seemed flustered. Mahler’s eyes bounced from him to rest on the head of a woman sitting at Obermeyer’s bedside. She had long, chestnut brown hair, highlighted naturally with invading silver strands. The sleek style was simple, parted in the middle and ending midway down her back. The woman turned her head to see the new arrival. Mahler recognized her straight off.
“Vera Wolf.”
The woman stood to her full height of five foot, eleven inches, turned, and extended her hand. “Yes, and I take it you’re Ritt’s night bodyguard?”
Birgitta cringed inwardly at the incorrect reference, but outwardly, she remained calm. “Detective Mahler,” she answered as she clasped Wolf’s hand.
“My apologies, Detective.” Vera Wolf’s large brown eyes held both intelligence and humor. They were also shrewd. As the leader of the opposition party to Obermeyer’s she’d successfully campaigned for many of the programs currently benefitting the German people, but they weren’t enough. Most of them had been crippled by compromise with the conservatives making them far less effective than they could have been. Still, she did what she could. Mahler admired her for it, but that admiration was now tainted with the knowledge that Wolf had been having an affair with Obermeyer, a man obviously lacking any morality or decency. He was a corrupt soul even if that corruption did not, so far, seem to extend to his misuse of ministry authority and complicity engaging in the trade of drugs and human trafficking.
“It’s an honest mistake.” Mahler nodded to Edelmann. “I’ll walk you out.” It was clearly an order. He said goodnight to Vera and made his way to the door where he waited for Mahler to precede him.
Outside in the hall, she gave him the eye. “I suspect you have much to tell me.”
Edelmann ran a hand over his chin. “I do. I guess the first part should be his medical update. The doctor came around. Obermeyer is doing well but being kept sedated for the time being. They don’t want him moving around for the next few days while that surgical wound heals. They had to repair an artery, and don’t want the stitches to tear, so he’ll be out of it mostly until they deem him stable. Other than that, he’s fine. Should recover nicely.”
Mahler waited patiently. “And?”
He grimaced. “Wolf showed up about two hours ago.”
“What part of no visitors escaped you?” She berated him quietly.
“I understand the concept, believe me, but I received a call directly from the BND instructing me to allow her in. I’m just as surprised as you,” he said when he noticed Mahler’s usually stoic face showing surprise. “What was I supposed to say to that? I called Captain Levitz, and, well, he cursed a blue streak and then told me to let her in.”
Mahler pursed her lips. “Yes, well, he’s had that kind of day. Okay, I get it.” She patted him on the arm. “Go home. Get some rest.” She dismissed him, and then turned back. “Thanks, Edelmann, for coming in this morning. I won’t forget it.” She mentally noted his dedication. Hans Edelmann was proving to be the best kind of officer; one she could rely on. When this was over, she planned to write up a recommendation for him to Levitz. He deserved to be advanced up the ladder. If he could prove himself in training, he’d make a fine detective.
Vera Wolf met Mahler at the door, passing.
“Leaving?”
The towering woman looked down at Mahler. “Yes. It has been a long day.”
“It was nice of you to visit the minister.”
The woman cast a glance back at Obermeyer. “I’m not sure he would agree,” she said softly.
Birgitta watched her. Her words implied affection, but something was missing from her eyes. Perhaps it was as Rudi Oppel said, sour grapes over being dumped.
Wolf collected herself, stepping through the doorway into the hall. “Watch over him, Detective. He’s had quite the close call.”
“Yes, he has.”
“Any news on the shooter? Have you caught him yet?”
“Him?” Mahler asked. Although the news had been running the story of the minister’s shooting on all stations, details of the incident had not been released because of the ongoing investigation.
“I assume it was a him. Aren’t most shooters males?” She placed her suit jacket over her arm.
“In most cases, yes. But we will not know until we know. We’re working on it. When was the last time you saw Obermeyer?” Birgitta threw in the last question. She’d been led to believe the affair between Wolf and the minister had been over for some time. If her assumption was correct, it was curious that the woman would take time to visit him in the hospital.
A small tug lifted the corner of Vera’s lips. “I’m not sure. At least a month or so. Work, you understand.” She stepped back. “And work continues. I have meetings in the morning, bright and early. The party has much to do over the next few weeks before the elections. Do you vote, Detective?”
Mahler noted the change in subject. “Of course.”
“Then I hope we can count on your support. The Women’s Alliance is a huge advocate of law enforcement, especially women in law enforcement. I understand there have been budget shortfalls. Our officers should not be left without the funding needed to safely perform their duties. We are campaigning on increased funding for all our law enforcement agencies and first responders.”
The scorned woman turned into the politician right before Mahler’s eyes. This was the persona she was familiar with, and she was saying all the right words. Her passion was apparent. It shone in her eyes. For Birgitta, it was telling. Wolf’s feelings for her work were honest and obvious. Her feelings for Obermeyer were murky and much harder to define. It made her wonder why she bothered to visit him.
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 67