“Didn’t you think that was odd?” Schneider drilled.
“Not really. I brought them in to the station. Meyer’s car was left behind. I was going to send someone for it, but if the captain wanted to take him to it, or home, it wasn’t my business.”
Schneider stared down his nose at Faust for a long minute. “What else? Did Rheinhardt say anything else? Did he make any calls?”
Herman blinked. “Yes. At least, he was making a call before I left his office to type up the report.”
“To whom?”
Faust thought back. “He commented that the LKA would want to talk to her. That’s all I know.”
The captain made a note. “I’ll have the phone log checked.”
“Sorry, sir, but any word on her brother? Did anyone inform him?”
Schneider looked up, and sat back in his chair, eyeing the young officer. “No. Gunter Meyer has not been informed.”
This just seemed wrong to Herman. “I don’t understand. This was his sister. He needs to know. I’ll go myself if necessary. I know we’re short-handed tonight—”
“He’s dead, Officer Faust.”
Herman paused, his mouth hanging open.
“Meyer’s body was found earlier today floating in the Havel River five miles downstream from his home. The coroner is performing a rush autopsy, but the preliminary findings are fairly conclusive. He was shot three times in the chest. Either he died first and was thrown into the river, or he drowned as a result of his injuries. What I need is a forensics report on the bullets, and final word from Doctor Menghala. Oh, and I’ve sent an investigator to Sgt. Herring’s home. It seems far too suspicious under the circumstances for him to be calling in sick.”
“Actually, he began feeling under the weather last night, not long after the paramedics carried Frau Hoffmann’s body out,” Faust shared.
Schneider stood, picking up his phone as he angrily punched the numbers, dialing. “And why didn’t you note this in your report?”
Faust was taken aback. “It had nothing to do with the case, sir.”
The captain grumbled, waiting for someone to pick up. “It’s Schneider. Send at HazMat team to Sgt. Herring’s home. Lock it down, quickly! He had contact with the body.” He hung up and began pacing. Finally, he stepped around his desk and past Herman where he pushed the office door shut with a bang.
Faust jumped in his seat.
“Herman,” Schneider began, trying for a calmer tone of voice, “there’s more.”
Faust looked at him, fear creeping into his blue eyes. “What is it?”
Schneider came back and sat on the end of his desk, looking down at Herman. “The paramedic, the one who performed CPR, is also sick, getting worse by the hour.”
“What? But, sir, I was the first to begin CPR on her...”
“Did you come into contact with her blood?” Schneider asked, deadly serious as he stood and backed up. “Do you feel ill?”
“No. Not at all. Well, I had a bit of a headache earlier, but I took some aspirin and it went away.”
“Any coughing? Fever? Bleeding from your ears, eyes, or mouth?”
“No. None of that. I feel fine, and I didn’t get any blood on myself. I did the chest compressions until the paramedics arrived. It was Herring who performed the mouth to mouth...at my direction,” he said in growing horror. “Oh, dear God. Is he going to die?”
Schneider seemed only slightly relieved. “We need to get you checked out right away, Faust, just in case.”
Herman gripped the arms of his chair. “But my wife, my daughter?”
“One crisis at a time. I’ll send a medical team to pick them up. First, let’s get you to the hospital. I’ll have an ambulance here to pick you up, but in the meantime, I need you to go into a holding cell, for all our protection.”
Faust stood, feeling shaky as fear seeped into his bones. Worry for his family muddled his thinking. “Okay, sure. But, how? Why? What the hell was she carrying?”
Schneider preceded him to the door, throwing it open wide and stepping out of Herman’s way. “The hospital coroner. She discovered the organism in Hoffmann’s blood during routine lab tests. It’s a fast-acting toxin that attacks the white blood cells, and breaks down the lining of healthy cells. To put it in laymen’s terms, it was inserted into a virus that causes cells in the body to degrade until a person bleeds to death. The coroner is almost one hundred percent sure it only spreads through contact with the blood and body fluids, but until we know for sure it’s not airborne, we need to keep you confined.”
They walked down the hall and through central command to the hallway leading to the holding cells. Schneider punched in the code and allowed Faust to enter the secure area.
“Cell number six is off limits for now until we get a decontamination crew in to clean it, so I’ll put you next door in five.” He entered the code, and the steel door to cell number five rolled open.
Herman stood looking into the small, depressing interior, disbelief written all over his face. He looked at Captain Schneider. “Will you let me know once my wife and daughter are at the hospital?”
“Of course. You’ll probably arrive at the same time.”
Faust nodded, and taking a deep breath, stepped inside. The door began rolling closed immediately behind him.
Chapter Five
THE EXAMINATION TOOK no more than twenty minutes. Doctor Zara Liebermann checked Faust’s eyes, ears, throat, and then drew several vials of blood. She sent those off to the lab, reassuring him as she did.
“I see no signs of hemorrhaging. Your focus is clear, and you’re not showing any signs associated with such.” She lifted Faust’s arms out. “Hold them here,” she said. Doctor Liebermann let go, watching to see if either of Herman’s arms suddenly fell. Neither did. “When a person has a brain hemorrhage, they experience symptoms of stroke. Your speech is clear, no weakness on either side. If you’d contracted this virus the coroner discovered upon contact with the deceased, you’d already be exhibiting symptoms of full infection. You were lucky, Officer Faust.”
Herman sighed, then quickly looked up. “And my wife, Helga? Our daughter?”
Doctor Liebermann pulled off the rubber exam gloves, her lips pursed. She sat down on the stool, looking Faust in the eye. “Your wife is asymptomatic,” she began.
Faust felt relief flood him, but it was short-lived.
“But your daughter,” Liebermann shook her head, “has a high fever, and if we can’t bring it down, she’ll begin to have seizures. Her lab work is pending, but her symptoms do not coincide with what we currently know. Did she have any contact with you following your experience with Edith Meyer Hoffmann?”
His heart constricted. “I don’t know...” he paused. “When I came home this morning, I did see her, of course.” He thought back. “I remember picking her up in the kitchen. I was still in uniform, but,” he shook his head, emotions tightening his throat, “I should have been more careful. I didn’t think.”
Liebermann patted his arm. “Don’t beat yourself up. As I said, what she presents with is not at all in line with what we know of this virus. Still, she is a child, and what little we know about this might affect children in a different manner. We won’t know until the report comes back from the lab. Right now, we have her in isolation, receiving fluids and antibiotics to bring down the fever and help her fight off any infection.” Liebermann stood. “Truly, her condition seems more appropriate to a concussion than a virus, but—”
Faust jumped up. “She had a fall!”
“When?”
Herman ran a hand through his hair. “Sometime in the afternoon. I woke with a headache and went to the kitchen. My mother-in-law was there with Therese. They’d just come in. She said she’d fallen off her tricycle, but that it was just a bump.” He looked hopeful.
The doctor nodded. “I’ll let you know when her labs come back. In the meantime, I’m ordering a CAT Scan.” She headed toward the door.
“Can I
see my wife?”
Liebermann turned. “She’s in the next room. I’ll send her in.” She left.
Faust paced, waiting. He didn’t need to wait long. Helga ran through the door, and straight into his arms.
“Herman, what in God’s name is going on?”
He held her close, breathing in her scent. “I don’t exactly know yet.”
“But something is wrong with Therese.” Pain filled her voice.
He looked down into her blue eyes. “I know. The doctor thinks it’s a concussion. She’s ordering head x-rays or some such.”
“A concussion? From what?” Then she remembered. “The fall off her tricycle? Oh my God!” Tears pooled in her eyes, falling down her cheeks. “But mother said it was just a bump. Nothing at all, and Therese was fine. I saw her. She was okay. Just a little tired maybe.”
“I don’t know, darling. It may have been more of a bump than we all realized. We’ll just have to wait and see what this CAT Scan shows. At least it does not seem to be what affected the lady who died at the station. For that, we can be thankful.”
“But her fever keeps rising. It began right before the damned police showed up at our door with an ambulance waiting.” She suddenly became angry, pounding on his chest. “Why didn’t you call? I was terrified!”
Faust grabbed her hands, pulling her in close. “I’m so sorry, Helga. I, too, was caught off guard the minute I walked into work, and then Schneider detained me, put me in isolation in one of our cells. I couldn’t call. He said he would take care of you both, make sure you were seen to. I’m so sorry.” He’d never felt so helpless. They stood there, in the middle of the exam room, holding on to each other, silently praying their daughter would be alright. As the night wore on, the situation worsened.
News came in the form of lab and radiology results. Therese Faust was negative for the newly discovered virus, but her CAT Scan concluded severe concussion resulting in rapid brain swelling. Her little body could not fight both the swelling and the fever, and seizures began to wrack her. An intense discussion with Doctor Liebermann ended with the decision to medically induce a comatose state which would allow the brain time to heal, and for the swelling to reduce. Herman and Helga could only watch, pain in their eyes, and fear in their hearts as their daughter was hooked up to a multitude of monitors and IVs.
AT 7:00 A.M., A TALL man with dark hair and eyes walked down the hallway and entered the ICU. His brow was set in a deep furrow. He unbuttoned his overcoat and leaned over the nurse’s desk.
“I’m looking for Faust. Herman Faust. His daughter is a patient—”
“Joseph.” Faust exited his daughter’s room three doors down from the nursing station.
The dark-haired man turned, recognizing the voice. “Herman,” he quickly thanked the nurse, and met Faust halfway. They stood facing each other, one man concerned, and the other, barely holding it all together. “What’s the news?”
Faust rubbed his face, exhaustion in the gesture. “I’m so sorry to have called you so early...”
“Don’t worry about that. What can I do? How can I help?”
Faust sighed, looking at his friend, Joseph Heinz. Moisture welled in his blue eyes as he noted the sincerity in Heinz’s own. As usual, his old pal was calm and collected, and ready to help. It was who Joseph was. He didn’t rile easily, and his first instinct was always to listen, and then find a way to make a situation better. Most people who met him thought the tall, quiet man couldn’t be bothered with their problems, until he turned his attention on them, focusing in on them like a laser. Joseph had an ability to see the big picture in all things, even if he sometimes skipped over the minutia. He could connect the dots of obscure concepts in ways that made him an ideal candidate for police work. It was a direct complement to Faust’s own way of laying things out point by point. They’d made a great partnership while in the academy, helping each other through the stages, completing their training near the top of their class.
“Therese is in an induced coma. The doctor hopes this will help her body heal, giving it the time and rest it needs so the swelling will go down in her brain.”
“I can’t believe this happened from just falling off a tricycle.” Joseph sighed, speaking quietly. “So how long will it take?”
Faust glanced at the floor. “She doesn’t know. A day, two days. If it goes on longer, we’re looking at possible brain damage.”
“My God, Herman.” Heinz reached out, gripping Faust’s shoulder in a reassuring squeeze.
“I know.”
“But how did you and Helga get dragged here too? You mentioned something about a case,” he inquired.
“Yes, yes. That’s partly what I wanted to talk to you about. I need your help.” Faust chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. “Let’s take this to the lounge down the hall. I promised Helga some coffee.” He moved around his friend.
Joseph spun around, preparing to follow. “Of course.”
Two men in dark suits and overcoats stood in their path. “Officer Herman Faust?” The first man spoke, raising a graying eyebrow. His short haircut, dark-rimmed glasses, and American accent caught both Herman’s and Joseph’s attention.
“Yes? Who’s asking?”
The man stood stalwart and unblinking. His cohort squared his shoulders, feet apart as if preparing for battle. That man casually parted his overcoat and jacket revealing a shoulder holster beneath with a firearm a hair’s breadth from his fingertips. A badge was strapped to his belt. CIA. Special Agent G. Thompson.
“I’m Special Agent Miller, and this is Special Agent Thompson. Your Captain Schneider said we’d find you here. We need to talk. I heard you mention a lounge?”
Heinz and Faust exchanged a look, one that said, ‘What the hell is going on now?’ “What does the American CIA want with me?”
“Not out here, Officer Faust. And who is this?” Miller turned his attention to Heinz, assessing him.
“This is my friend and colleague, Officer Joseph Heinz.”
“Schneider made no mention of him,” said Thompson. He raised a black eyebrow nearly to the hairline of his crew cut.
“He works at another borough, but he is here at my request. Whatever you need to talk to me about, you can discuss in front of him.” Faust asserted casual authority into his words. He didn’t like the vibe he felt coming off of the Americans, and he didn’t want to go anywhere with them without backup. To his way of thinking, they hadn’t fully proved they were who they said they were, and his captain hadn’t mentioned anything about American agents to him, not yet, anyhow.
Miller spoke after a short pause. “Alright. The lounge? Let’s go there.” He stepped back, letting Faust lead the way. Joseph stayed at his side, a step back keeping his eyes on the agents who followed behind.
Chapter Six
“WE NEED TO KNOW WHAT you found on Edith Meyer Hoffmann and her brother when you arrested them.” Special Agent Miller pushed the lounge door closed behind them. Thompson took up post standing in front of it to prevent anyone from walking in. Faust and Heinz stood by a table and chairs, watching as the two men stared them down, unblinking.
“I didn’t arrest them, Agent Miller,” Faust said. “I pulled Gunter Meyer over because I was patrolling near the DDR border, and he happened to be driving past.”
“Then why did you pull him over?”
“It was late.” Sarcasm tinged Faust’s words.
Miller tilted his head. “So, you had some kind of reasonable suspicion to pull the man over?”
“It’s unusual for there to be traffic in the area at that time of night, yes.”
“I see. You pulled Meyer over. Your report states,” Miller paused as he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, holding it up and shaking it out, “that you were going to let Mr. Meyer go when a sound alerted you to the presence of another passenger. You searched the car and found his sister, Mrs. Hoffmann, hidden beneath the backseat.” The agent refolded the paper and put it back inside his p
ocket. “A man you pulled over on suspicion of nefarious activity is found to have been actually involved in nefarious activity, and you didn’t arrest them both?”
Faust sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly as he counted to ten. Next to him, Joseph tensed, preparing to speak on his friend’s behalf when Faust gripped his arm, stopping him.
“In Berlin, we do not arrest those escaping from oppressive communism. Those people have already endured hardships and punishments we cannot begin to fathom here in the west. No, sir. We welcome them. The only reason I brought them into the station was so that Frau Hoffmann could make her official statement. That is our policy. We debrief, but we do not arrest.”
Miller continued to stare through his horn-rimmed spectacles, his expression giving nothing away. “So, you did not interrogate her, even knowing who she was?”
“Look, he already told you—” Joseph’s words flew, anger coloring them.
“It’s okay, Joseph.” Faust held up one hand to halt his friend. “No, I did not interrogate her. Sgt. Herring took her statement, for which I’m sure you probably have a copy of that as well in your pocket, and I did not know who she was until Captain Rheinhardt pointed it out. He is the one who recognized her name. If you have any further questions about Frau Hoffmann and her brother, you should ask him or even Sgt. Herring. Both would know more than I do.”
Miller and Thompson exchanged a look before Miller spoke again. “Sgt. Herring passed about an hour ago, Officer Faust.”
Herman felt his heart stop. His lips parted, pausing as if unsure whether or not to speak. Heinz, at his side, gripped his friend’s shoulder in sympathy.
Miller continued. “And Captain Rheinhardt is missing in action. We’ve already been to his residence. There is no sign he’s even been there in the last twenty-four hours. His neighbor states she last saw him leaving for work yesterday. He never came home. So, Officer, we have a problem. The wife of a Soviet-controlled scientist escaped the DDR, entering West Berlin bringing a deadly biological contagion with her. She is dead. Her brother is dead. Two people who’ve had contact with her body are dead, and the only person who knew anything about who she was is missing. You brought her in, Officer Faust. You are the only living link left. Until we find your Captain Rheinhardt, you will be required to stay put. You helped bring this weapon across, and until we’re satisfied that you’re not complicit in this act of war, you’ll be under constant surveillance. Understood?”
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 76