He stepped out of the car and went around to help Nikola out of her seat. Together, they faced the sidewalk leading to the front door. “Be brave, little one,” he said, mostly for himself.
They walked forward, each step taking them both a bit further towards a new path in life.
Before Heinz reached the porch, the front door opened. Anton stood, staring at them.
Heinz stopped, taking in his old friend. It was clear that the cakes and pies had finally won the war. Anton’s waist had grown, along with the hairs on his chin which sprouted into a white beard. He looked older, and very much like a little girl’s idea of a grandfather.
“Joseph, what are you doing here?” He asked quietly.
“Anton, I’m not even sure where to begin.” He looked at the man, who was now looking down at Nikola. His eyes misted over, and his mouth hung open in disbelief as if he’d just seen a ghost.
“This is Nikola,” Heinz began.
“Marie!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Marie! Come here, quickly!”
“What is it, Anton? I have cookies in the oven.” Marie Schubert arrived behind her husband, and then glanced from him to Heinz. “Joseph!” Her voice revealed a familiar contempt.
She looked the same to Heinz, still trim, still attractive, but her faded blonde hair was liberally highlighted with silver, and her face contained more lines. His gut clenched in response to hearing her say his name with so much rancor. Fighting past it, he spoke. “Hello, Marie.”
“Look!” Anton pointed as his voice shook.
Marie looked at the little girl. Slowly, the hard lines in her face softened. She sucked in a breath and grabbed Anton’s arm. “She looks like...” Marie’s eyes bounced to Heinz, questioning.
“Yes, she does look like Marlessa, quite a bit, actually.” He looked at them both. “She’s your granddaughter. This is Marlessa’s daughter, Nikola.”
Marie sobbed, holding onto her husband who now had tears running down his plump cheeks even as his lips split into a huge grin.
Anton was the first to step forward, shaking with emotions. He squatted down, bringing himself eye level with the girl. “Hello, Nikola. I’m your Opa Anton.” He cautiously opened his arms.
Nikola looked from Heinz to Anton.
“It’s okay,” he said in broken Russian. “This is your Opa.”
Nikola looked at Anton again. “Opa!” she said, and touched his nose with her tiny finger before raising her arms, and sliding them around his neck.
Holding his granddaughter tight, Anton cried. Standing slowly, he lifted her up, and turned to Marie. He pointed at his wife. “This is your Oma, darling. Say hello.”
“Oma.” Nikola mimicked.
Marie’s eyes flooded with tears. “Hello, darling dearest.” She reached out, and Nikola went into her arms.
Anton turned to Heinz. “How?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Then you’d best come inside, my old friend. Come in! Come in.” He hustled Joseph into the house followed by Marie who refused to let her granddaughter go.
By the end of the evening, and after a lengthy and difficult explanation fraught with tears, Heinz left the Schubert residence with an invitation to return. As he stood on the curb watching the scene through the window of the cozy cottage house, his heart healed. Joseph knew he’d finally been redeemed, and he could move forward, free of his past, to a bright future with the love of his life.
Chapter Thirty
LUKAS SAT ACROSS FROM Birgitta at a small café in the Tiergarten. He’d returned to work that day for appearances sake. He still had quite a bit of work to do for the BND, but it could wait until the following day. Another Russian ship was scheduled to come in, and his unit would be there to intercept it.
“Thanks for meeting me, Lukas.” Mahler sipped her coffee and waited as their server set two plates before them. She picked up her fork and knife, cutting into the steaming rouladen.
“Not a problem, but make it quick, Birgitta. I have a lot to prepare for.” He took a bite of potato, chewing.
“We received the initial conclusions from Wiedner’s autopsy, and it shows an overdose. Dr. Menghala cited opioids, which I don’t think is a coincidence. We’re waiting on toxicology, but in the meantime, we know it was murder.”
“So there is no way her death was accidental.” He didn’t ask a question, but rather, made a statement.”
“No. Marilyn was left-handed, and the injection site was right above her left wrist. People who shoot up do so using the hand they favor. Also, the site itself is an unusual spot to inject. I read through the file. There were no other track marks on her body. She wasn’t a habitual user, if even a user at all.”
“I see. So, what is it you’re saying exactly?”
“I believe her death is somehow connected to your investigation.”
“You think Oppel was lying about not killing her?”
“No, not that. I actually believe him, but he knows who killer her.”
Lukas sipped the red wine in his glass. “Yes, you were there during his interrogation. Oppel indicates Karl Gephart as the killer. I understand he was found dead this morning, so there’s no way to confirm that. All you have is the hotel security tapes and Oppel’s confession placing him there. It’s more than enough to convict a man. I’d say Karl’s suicide is an admission of guilt.”
“One would think so, but we discovered something of interest, something we missed initially. Hotel surveillance doesn’t back up Oppel’s story. Gephart was never at the Omni that night. Unless he’s a master of disguise or can make himself invisible. He was nowhere on those tapes.”
Lukas looked up but said nothing. Mahler could see the wheels in his mind spinning.
“I also discovered that Karl had a bank account. Want to guess at what I found in it?”
“I know you’re going to tell me, so why guess?” He steepled his fingers, waiting.
“You’re right. Gephart received a lump sum deposit of fifty-thousand euros the morning Marilyn was found dead. It came from a numbered Swiss bank account. As you’re well aware, no one has access to discovering the owner without a warrant from the highest court, and even then, finding a name is hard.”
He dropped his gaze, smiling to himself as he picked up his utensils and began eating once again. Between bites, he offered, “So you want our help in finding out who paid him. You’ve just cleared Gephart of Wiedner’s murder yourself, according to what you just told me. Anything else puts Gephart out of your jurisdiction and firmly into ours. Any further investigation, as you say, would be related to the BND’s case, not your own. And yet, you are still asking me to help you.”
Mahler watched him. Lukas was a handsome young man, but annoyingly cocky. Elsa loved that about him. She called it ‘confidence.’ Birgitta called it being an ass. Still, she liked him even if sometimes she wanted to smack him across the back of his head.
“Yes. Will you?” She maintained eye contact, not backing down.
He stared back, thinking hard, and then looked at his plate. “I’ll see what I can uncover, but I can’t promise anything.”
She smiled. “That’s all I ask, Lukas.”
AS THE TAXI PULLED up to the Miesterhaus apartment building in Mitte, Faust instructed Elsa to take the rest of the day off. “Go see what that boyfriend of yours is up to. I’m sure it’s no good since you’ve been away.”
She sighed, smiling, and wondered exactly how much truth was in that statement. “I actually hope he is up to something, at work. I’m tired, Herman. All I want to do is sleep. I welcome a few quiet hours.”
She stepped out of the cab. Faust rolled down the back window. “You did very well, Elsa. I’m proud of you.” She grinned. “Don’t get too cocky though. You have a great deal to learn. We’ll begin tomorrow. I’m going to arrange for some classes for you beginning with linguistics and Global Politics. And I want to get you into martial arts training as well.”
She leaned down, resting her
elbows on the door. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
He patted her arm. “Nonsense. It’s nothing you cannot handle. I have faith in you. Tschüs!” He tapped the roof, and the cab pulled away.
As they merged back into traffic, Faust gave new directions. “Head to the Landeskriminalamt, back entrance.” The driver nodded and made a right at the next cross street.
It took twenty-five minutes to reach his office in the falling snow. The wind had picked up, blowing the flakes onto surfaces and frosting the windows of the building. Upstairs, in the corner office, Faust greeted his secretary, Lora.
“Any news?”
She turned and smiled. “Welcome back, Herr Direktor.” She pointed to his office door. “Messages on your desk, and six new files with updates on operations in Saudi Arabia, Britain, Turkey, and America.”
“Very good. Thank you, Lora. Efficient as always.” He gave her a mock salute and entered the familiar space of his office.
He sat down and began going through messages first. One from Mahler caught his eye. He sighed. Not going there just yet, he thought. He put that one aside, intending to call her before leaving at the end of the day. The next hour was spent catching up on the progress of his field agents. Then he started in on the six new files. These were requests from above, new geopolitical threats in need of solutions. Much like an undertaker, there was always fresh business for the LKA, and much like that same undertaker, if left unattended, it began to stink. It was the last file that caught his attention. It was from the BND. As Herman read through, he sat up straight. The same ship, on which they’d escaped St. Petersburg, and the corrupt arm of the Russian Federation, was due to dock in Hamburg the next day. The Military Counterintelligence Service, under Captain D. Kelner, would be leading a raid to intercept the cargo, and arrest the crew.
Faust chewed his lip. He knew what this meant. Vladimir Brezhnev was going to be pissed. Somehow, he didn’t think the Butcher would believe it was a coincidence or that he and Heinz had nothing to do with it. MAD was asking for the LKA’s assistance with discretion, running interference with the media by deflecting any questions from their operation. The action was set to commence in the pre-dawn hours. The tip they received stated the Morskoy Drakon would arrive around 4:00 a.m. There wasn’t much time to manufacture the cover up.
“Lora?” He called out. “Bring me the master list. Hurry, please.”
Lora immediately went to her file cabinet and pulled out a large, blue book. The master list contained a compilation of past media stories used by the LKA in such events. Faust knew he’d have to dig back into the oldest section of the list to find a feasible, and unused tale to spin to keep the media, and the public, looking the other way. Deflection, or as he liked to call it, government slight of hand, was all part of the job. He made a mental note to include training of professional lying to Elsa. Knowing her past career, he figured she’d pass with flying colors.
Lora entered with the book which she handed over. Faust took it and glanced up. “Seems like the world started falling apart while I was gone.”
She pursed her lips. “Yes. Minister Obermeyer was shot, not fatally, at a park opening, and the next day, one of his many paramours, a prostitute, was found dead in her suite at the Omni. The person police believe attempted to kill him, another prostitute from the same agency, was found dead in a motel the next day. As a result, the minister’s campaign has dropped in the polls, and the Socialist Democratic Party has surged ahead, surprisingly with Vera Wolf being pushed to the top to lead.” She turned and walked to the door. “And it always seems like the world is falling apart. It doesn’t matter whether you’re here or not, Herr Direktor. You’re only one man. You cannot hold it all together by yourself, so don’t fret. Just handle things one catastrophe at a time.” Her voice trailed off as she returned to her own desk.
Faust sat, stunned, staring after her. “Scheisse!” He quickly formulated a plausible news story for the media, sent it off to Lora to prepare the press releases. She would see that they went out exactly one hour after the raid, and that the LKA communications chief received his copy of the script. Arthur Muenster would brave the cameras, and field the questions for them. That was his job, and he was damn good at it. With that disaster averted, he picked up Mahler’s message. He figured this mess with the minister had probably fallen to her while Heinz was out of the country. Between that and being out of touch with her fiancé, he imagined she was as mad as a wet hen. Now it fell to him to put out some of her fire before Joseph returned.
“I think I’d rather eat a shit sandwich,” he muttered, picking up the phone.
LUKAS STARED AT THE telegram. It was from Piers Larsson, a former Marine, and fellow soldier who’d served alongside him and Dieter in Afghanistan. Piers was German born, but his family came from Switzerland. After the brutality of war, he decided to give a neutral country a try. Piers was a numbers man, and accounting came naturally to him. What else was an accountant to do in Switzerland? He became a banker and quickly moved up the ladder. Still, ever the soldier, Piers Larsson became an invaluable asset to his old unit. Never was that more apparent than now.
“I’ll be damned.” Lukas stared at the name on the paper. It was the owner of the numbered account that sent a payment of fifty thousand euros to Karl Gephart. Now he understood. Gephart was someone who could easily get close to Obermeyer. Someone who made a good pawn. Disposable. Unfortunately, he was not a trained assassin and had flubbed the mission. Lukas wasn’t sure if it was fear of retaliation for failing to kill the minister or perhaps some misplaced grief at choosing money over his lover that sent Karl over the edge and straight into suicide. Either way, it was not connected to the current BND operation. This was another intrigue altogether.
He sat in silence contemplating whether or not to share what he’d found with Birgitta. He promised only to try. He could say he’d come up short, finding nothing. However, this still didn’t answer who killed Bierkit Wiedner. But there were no other suspects besides Oppel, and now that the man had cut a deal with them, murder was not on the list of charges. His collusion, kidnapping, and human trafficking violations along with breaking state commerce laws were enough to put him away for life. Thanks to his cooperating with authorities, his sentence would be no more than ten years.
He considered all sides. Who would benefit more from knowing? He weighed the good against the bad, and by his reckoning, the good outweighed all. In the end, he decided that it was best for all concerned, what with all that had already happened, and with what continued to unfold, that it remain a secret. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked the flint. Holding the paper over the flame, he watched as it turned to ash and cinders. “I’m sorry, Birgitta, but this is definitely in your best interests, and the best interests for all.”
Chapter Thirty-One
ELSA RAN TO THE UBAHN, hopping on the car right before the doors closed. Her workday had been spent meeting the new instructors who would be teaching her the fundamentals of being a good agent. All had been going well since she’d come back yesterday. When Lukas came home, he was pleasantly surprised to find her there. He cooked them a wonderful dinner, and then made love to her with a tenderness that stole her heart until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. She’d watched him quietly, and for the first time, didn’t feel apprehensive about their relationship. He’d told her again that he loved her, in the middle of sex, of course, but she knew now that he meant it. As she reflected over their time together, she realized he showed her in a million ways, every day, how much he cared. Finally, she got it. Love wasn’t just three little words uttered in a fairy tale. Love was a verb exercised every day, and she truly enjoyed watching him exercise it last night.
With her newfound perspective, she also decided to forgive him in regard to the email from Dieter, and even lying to her about having not heard from his old friend. He had no idea she knew otherwise when she’d brought it up. Her man had a secret, but she knew he was a good
man. She had secrets of her own, and there would be more in the future. As long as he accepted hers, she would leave him to his.
Now she was ten minutes late for a dress fitting with Birgitta. After chewing her out for not returning her calls, Mahler informed her that Frau Kluge required them one last time, and she’d better be in attendance. It was like having her mother dress her down. How could she refuse such a lovely invitation? Elsa prepared herself to listen to a bit of fussing. Joseph was set to return in two days, and she already knew he hadn’t been able to call his fiancé in some time, but Birgitta did mention hearing from him, so it wouldn’t be too bad. She smiled to herself. Keeping secrets was not easy, but she had to admit, it was a little bit fun.
The swaying of the tube as it sped along soothed her. She was home, and for the moment, everything seemed right in the world. Joseph called her that morning, letting her know there’d been a happy ending after all in Potsdam. He sounded different on the phone, optimistic, for what she figured was the first time in a long time. He’d gone to a physician and x-rays were taken. No broken bones, only severely bruised ribs. He was thankful. The swelling in his eye had gone down, and the bruising was expected to fade away before the big day. Birgitta would be happy. Elsa knew no woman wanted a black and blue groom in her wedding photos.
More good news came her way from her brother, Anno. Her friend, Sarah, would arrive next week from Texas. She planned to stay for a month, which sent Anno into the clouds. She still couldn’t ever tell her brother what happened between herself and Sarah back in the day. He really wouldn’t understand, and the two of them were such great friends now that it didn’t matter. What with all the love in the air, her inner matchmaker came to the surface. A spontaneous call to Amsterdam led to an invitation for Paul Christiansen to attend the wedding of Birgitta Mahler and Joseph Heinz. He was overjoyed to hear of it and promised to be among the well-wishers that day. Stories were shared, and she was glad to hear he’d begun to settle down, even as he continued to paint. Paul was in a good place in his life, and she thought now might be the chance for him to find love just as she and Birgitta had. Elsa didn’t tell him about Sarah’s upcoming visit. She left that out, figuring fate would take its own course.
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