Nemesis: Innocence Sold (20 page)

“I know that, but after all, I brought the bastards with me. Give the signal, and tell me how to play it.”

Daniel cautiously peered over the trunk. “Run to the fuse box or whatever that is, and take cover. Don’t waste time aiming—unaimed fire’s enough. Speed’s decisive.”

“You mean I should be faster than the bullets. Great plan,” Lüttgens said, already pushing himself into the right starting position.

Daniel wondered how the policeman had gotten involved in this thing; he liked his manner. He was looking forward to the explanation, but there would be time for that later.

“Go!” Daniel said and sprinted away from the Mercedes, toward the man who was annoying Kat. As he had expected, the men immediately targeted him. He changed directions and rolled away. Kat was standing on the roof firing at the man. With a scream, he collapsed. Enemy fire fell silent, then abruptly resumed, this time directed at another target: Lüttgens. He couldn’t worry about that, though a loud scream froze the blood in his veins. He sensed the policeman had been hit. Running in a fast zigzag, Daniel reached the entrance to the swimming complex and threw himself to the ground next to the man Kat had taken out. The two thigh wounds were no doubt painful but were not life threatening. The guy was reaching for his pistol. With a blow to the temple, Daniel ensured the man wouldn’t be a danger to anyone for a while. Together with Kat, he opened fire and sighed with relief when their enemies retreated to their vehicles. “Stephan? Lars? Report!” he said.

“Lüttgens has been hit, but it’s not too bad. I’d say they’re giving up,” Stephan said, and he was right. One was limping badly; the others reached their car. The BMW sped off.

“Should I . . . ,” Kat began.

The thought of shooting out their tires was appealing, but the risk of missing was too great. Kat’s rifle had a range of a thousand meters, and there were a number of residential buildings in the vicinity—reason enough for her to have been extremely cautious in returning fire. “No. It’s over. Come here, I’ll help you down.”

After Kat had landed safely on the ground next to him, Daniel bound the wounded man’s hands behind his back with zip ties. He abstained from binding the man’s feet; with his wounds, he wasn’t going to be running anywhere. “Are you doing all right?”

“Of course.”

Lüttgens was sitting on the ground leaning against a gray box; he looked at Daniel with a failed attempt at a grin. He was pressing his right hand against his upper left arm; blood leaked through his fingers and ran down the sleeve in a bizarre pattern. “It didn’t quite work; one bullet was faster.”

“Then you should work on that. Just a second.” From the backseat of the Mercedes, Daniel took his backpack, in which, among other things, he kept his medical supplies. He was relieved that his equipment and laptop were undamaged, although the Mercedes had suffered. “Lars, get me some light. What’s all this about?” he asked while he injected a painkiller into Lüttgens.

“Would the short version be all right? Shit, that hurts.”

“It’ll get better in a second. Clean shot, straight through.” Daniel disinfected the wound and put a bandage on it.

He had hardly finished when Lüttgens took a deep breath. “Four months ago, I participated in a raid. A shabby place, mostly pot and a few pills. I thought I’d gone crazy; one of the arrestees was my sister. The stupid girl was just curious, not addicted, but she had a few grams of pot in her purse. That would have cost her her internship at the bank and messed up her whole future. I cut her loose and took care of it.”

He paused, but Daniel could imagine where this was going. Lüttgens was breathing shallowly, and it was clear the painkiller hadn’t taken effect. “Take your time.”

“There’s no point; that stuff never really works for me. Every visit to the dentist is a real horror trip. Let’s keep going—at least it’s a distraction. Two days after the raid, Blumenthal spoke to me. That dirty rat had taken a few nice pictures of me that evening. I thought he wanted money, but it wasn’t about that. He needed someone who would help him do his dirty work. The same evening, I visited a lawyer friend and started a record of what was going on. My friend felt I was holding some crappy cards with regard to getting Blumenthal busted; it was my word against his. But I wanted to get him. Him and the rest. He had explicitly warned me that turning to superiors would be of no use. This fit with some rumors. I thought I’d get in deep enough to expose everything, and then maybe be able to cut a nice deal regarding the raid.”

With his right hand, Lüttgens tugged at the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a USB stick. “Everything’s documented here, including the name and address of my lawyer and everything Blumenthal took me along on. He even gave me money, but I immediately delivered it to the lawyer. Except for the thing with the child, it was all harmless stuff. I think so, anyway. But he wanted to downplay that kidnapping at all costs, and then there was something else. Twice he was on the property of the trucking company, where Kalle got shot. He met somebody there. Some kind of luxury all-terrain vehicle. Unfortunately, I could never get a good look at the driver; two gorillas made sure I kept my distance. I don’t even have the license number. I think it was a Stormarn one, but I couldn’t say for sure. That business in the stairwell today was too much . . . but I’d have shot Blumenthal dead before I’d have helped him kill the two of you. You can believe me when I say that. I thought I’d go crazy when he got the call and calmly told me we had to take you out. Then it became clear that my project was going to be too much for me alone, and that’s putting it mildly.” He fell silent and struggled to breathe, his entire body trembling.

Daniel resorted to a more powerful painkiller, injecting him with a small dose of morphine. “That’s guaranteed to work,” he said. “Stephan?” Daniel said, without taking his eyes off Lüttgens, whose breathing and color were returning to normal.

“Sounds plausible.” Stephan seemed more interested in the howling sirens that were quickly getting louder. “About time our colleagues woke up and got here, and who called the taxi?”

Daniel turned around and laughed with relief when the taxi stopped and Sandra got out.

“Don’t accidentally shoot us!” she said.

“Kat, Lars, greet our colleagues and then drive to headquarters to take Lüttgens’s statement. Then arrange for safe accommodation for him and his family. Sandra, you’re taking the rest of the evening off. We’ll let you out at Daniel’s place in a bit.”

Sandra grimaced when Kat’s mouth dropped open but didn’t explain why she was staying with Daniel. “It’s not that taking the rest of the evening off doesn’t sound good, but what are you planning to do, and what’s going to happen to Lüttgens?”

“If he tells the truth, we’ll take care of it. For the time being, he’s going to vacation at our expense in a safe house on a North Sea island. Mark’s going to need all the support he can get.”

Daniel looked at the rather battered Mercedes. “So am I, when my boss sees this car. I’m going to be dealing with the paperwork for hours.”

Stephan put a friendly arm around his shoulders. “Leave it. This is a case for the crime scene unit. I’ll talk to our motor pool manager. This counts as an LKA mission.”

Sandra cleared her throat. “Um, boss, there’s also the taxi driver . . . I borrowed his car.”

The laughter that followed, which was clearly not appropriate for the situation, caused any tension to dissipate. With a sigh, Lars walked over to his colleagues, who were looking quizzically in their direction.

Kat didn’t want to interrupt the reunion of Lüttgens and his wife, so she got them to walk to her service car with their children, who were now awake, in their arms. “We’ll be faster on foot; it’s barely a hundred yards,” she said. Lüttgens was relieved in spite of his gunshot wound, and he seemed like a different man. “We urgently need to drink a cappuccino together. I have a hundred questions. You and Doc?”

“Well, you and Lars?” Sandra said. She hadn’t failed to notice how familiar the two police officers behaved with each other.

Smiling, Kat winked at her, while Daniel rolled his eyes. “You two have problems.”

“If you’re back in good health tonight, I won’t. I almost went crazy following the firefight over the headset and not being able to do anything.”

“Do you think I enjoyed not knowing where you were?”

“You’ve been up since this morning, too. Are you sure you have to drive off now?”

“Now, listen, you’ve saved children today already—I have to make up for that so I don’t fall behind.”

“You nut,” said Sandra, giving him a well-aimed jab to the ribs.

CHAPTER 20

With that, the easiest part was behind them, Dirk thought, concerned. They had easily evaded the two men who were watching Kerlinski’s house and reached the back part of the garden. Now they needed to get into the house unseen. Mark had been watching the carport through digital binoculars. “Stay behind cover. I’ll take the side door. When I’ve opened it, you follow.”

Dirk’s gaze shifted to the halogen lights and the blinking red light that indicated the house was protected by an alarm system. Though they didn’t like this scenario, neither of them was planning to argue.

The beginning looked promising. Bushes surrounding a large lawn gave Mark sufficient cover to reach the carport unnoticed. A Mercedes all-terrain vehicle blocked him from view perfectly, so he was able to work on the lock unbothered. Unexpectedly, the door moved; Mark immediately stepped back.

“Oh, shit,” Sven whispered. “Something’s going wrong.”

Dirk held his breath. The door opened a crack. Mark rushed forward and jerked the knob. In a flowing movement, he leapt inside. Everything had happened so fast that they hoped no one had noticed anything.

“Come on.” The order was unnecessary; Sven was already using the cover of the bushes to approach the carport.

They had barely reached the all-terrain vehicle when Dirk looked toward the street. “Everything’s all right. The guy’s smoking and staring at the front door.” He silently pulled the door shut behind him before he looked around. The room evidently served as a workroom; it had no windows, and a door connected it to the house. It had been kept in good order. Although it wasn’t exactly appropriate, Dirk smiled when he saw Mark effortlessly keeping Kerlinski’s nephew in check. With a forearm across his throat and a hand on his mouth, the SEAL prevented him from making a sound. The nephew stared at them with wide eyes. “Don’t say a word,” Dirk said.

The choked noise could have been agreement or a complaint. Mark let him go. “Sorry, but it had to go fast.”

“I almost had a heart attack. Other than a shadow, there was nothing, and suddenly I was . . . That’s impossible.” Marius scratched his head.

“Bring Michael here,” said Dirk. “No one can see into this room from the outside. You’re being watched by two men. One’s sitting in the car in front of your door; the other’s walking back and forth in your backyard. It wouldn’t suit our purposes if they noticed you have visitors.”

“Yes, of course. Really? I didn’t see anyone earlier when I—”

Suddenly, a voice. “Marius? What are you doing? Where are you?” Before he could answer, the workshop’s other door was pushed open. Michael froze, then nodded. “Perhaps it’s better this way.” His gaze flitted to Marius. “Did he call you?”

Dirk gave the nephew an opportunity to answer, but he was silent. Michael seemed to have aged ten years in the few hours since their last encounter. “Who is that? What do you want?” Michael indicated Mark.

“A friend of ours who can help. You know yourself how it’s going to end if you don’t accept help. No matter what you’re planning to do, you’re not going to get your daughter back this way.”

“You have no idea. If they want me, they’ll get me, and this will all be taken care of.”

Sven stormed past Dirk with two huge steps and stopped so close to Michael that he drew back. “We have no time for this nonsense. You’re not successful because you’re stupid, right? As Dirk said, you know how it’s going to end. To hell with your self-sacrifice trip. We’ve gotten the message; if we have more time at some point, we’ll admire you for that. If the bastards had just wanted to see you dead, they could have easily done it: a well-aimed shot or some C4 under your SUV. In my estimation, they wanted to ensure two things: that you died and that your daughter disappeared forever. She was the ideal guarantee that your employees and your family would refrain from engaging in further investigations. The hope that the girl would reappear sometime would make them stay out of it. But that’s nonsense, and they know that. Work with us, and you’ll have a real chance of seeing your girl again. If you do your own thing, you’re dead, and your daughter will wish she were dead—that’s certain.”

Michael’s face was chalk white, and he staggered back until he managed to get hold of a workbench. It took some time before the spasms of his Adam’s apple ceased, and he cleared his throat. “At fifteen past midnight, I’m to appear at the Green Bridge on the Brenner Moor. Supposedly, a simple exchange will take place. I can bring a companion,” he said in a broken voice.

Sven’s action had led to success in a very short time. “Sometime you’ll have to tell me how you always find the right words,” Dirk whispered to his partner.

“Too bad it doesn’t work with my wife,” Sven said with a grin.

“We know that bridge, of course,” Mark said, directing their attention back to the topic at hand.

Dirk shrugged off Mark’s warning undertone; he had needed the brief distraction from the fate of the girl and Michael’s deep sorrow. He wondered what place could be meant, but nothing occurred to him. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“I’ll get my laptop. I’d invite you in, but it wouldn’t be very good for your silhouettes to appear in front of the windows. Letting down the blinds was explicitly forbidden.”

“I’ll get it for you,” said Marius.

Before Dirk could ask which bridge Mark meant, Mark said, “Bad Oldesloe, the moor with the wooden walkways. You collided with three-foot-high stinging nettles when we were jogging and didn’t talk about anything else for twenty minutes.”

Mark could have saved himself the detailed explanation, but Michael’s brief smile compensated him for it.

When Marius returned, out of breath, he placed the laptop on the workbench and opened Google Earth. With a click he navigated to a position marker. “We took a look at this, but there’s not much here.”

“Two access routes, or am I mistaken?” said Sven. He responded to Mark’s surprised look with a smile. “I haven’t been jogging with Mark there, but I’ve biked there with Britta. And that brings us to a point for later: Why this place? Not exactly a famous sight; it’s known only within the region. Looks like one access route, but I remember it differently.”

“Right. There are at least two.” Mark tapped the screen carefully with the blunt end of a screwdriver. “There’s the normal access route via this street. It’s pretty bumpy and can easily be watched from this intersection. Behind this farm or whatever that is, it gets flat. One man’s enough to prevent anyone from approaching with a vehicle.”

“Where’s the second access route? I don’t see any other streets, only hiking paths.” Michael had regained his calm.

Mark tapped the bridge. “The road continues on the other side and is wide enough for one vehicle, though I’d use an all-terrain one. One incline is pretty steep; if the surface were loose, it wouldn’t be something for an ordinary car. And this is where one comes out: that’s the road to Segeberg; heading in the other direction, one gets to Oldesloe after a few miles. But the problem remains the same. The road passes an old manor.” As Michael bent forward, blinking, Mark indicated a lake. “Here, right in between. The manor is on the other side. ‘Fresenburg,’” he said, reading the name on the monitor. “Of course, it doesn’t matter what it’s called; all that’s important is that once again one man’s enough to notice anyone approaching from this side. For that reason, vehicles are out. The last way of getting to the bridge is on this path.” The narrow line was barely visible.

“What’s that supposed to be? I didn’t think that was anything,” Michael said.

“That’s a path that consists partly of wooden walkways. Too narrow for a vehicle. If a man’s posted there, he won’t be paying much attention.”

“That’s true,” Sven said. “A person has to be damned careful not to fall into the water on either side. And you can forget about walking next to each other, and it’s really tough on a bicycle.”

Before his encounter with the unpleasant nettles was brought up once again, Dirk thought about the current situation on the moor. He had been there in high summer with Mark; the plants had grown to three yards in some places, and the water level had been fairly low. “It’s rained quite a bit at night recently. The ditches must be full, and the water must be sufficiently deep near this river. The grasses and other plants, on the other hand, must still be very low . . . ,” Dirk said, considering. He had already realized the direction Mark’s thoughts were going.

“What’s your estimate of the current water level? When were you there with Britta?” Mark asked, turning to Sven and confirming Dirk’s assumptions.

“A year ago. Dirk’s right. The water washed over the walkway in some places. No stinging nettles anywhere that would have been broad enough to endanger us. It’s possible to have a very good overview of everything. Many birds, the first toads, and so on. If I remember correctly, the growth on the banks was already pretty full. And I don’t have to tell you that there are poisonous things swimming around there. Nothing against Britta, but she has a real fear of snakes, and they do live there. But only the adder is poisonous; the rest are harmless colubrids.”

“Nevertheless . . . ,” Dirk began, but quickly fell silent. The idea of walking around there in the dark and risking encountering something poisonous didn’t appeal to him.

“Don’t be afraid,” Mark said. “If you don’t jump in the water voluntarily, you can by all means remain dry.” Sven took in a sharp breath.

“Am I going to find out what you are planning? And who you are?”

Mark’s gaze rested on the private detective. “Isn’t it enough that we’re going to free your daughter? The more normally you behave, the better, and as long as you don’t know where we are, you’re not going to give us away through a careless glance. At midnight, you’ll stop at this bus stop; there you’ll meet Dirk and learn what you must do. Pray that these bastards really bring your daughter; otherwise we’ll have a problem. But my guess is they won’t miss the opportunity to torture you and give you a last look at the girl.”

“And what about me?” asked Marius, insulted. “I wanted to go along.”

“You’ll take care of your aunt. I don’t know why your uncle was allowed a companion. Perhaps only to make him feel assured that he’d be allowed to drive back with the girl, but I don’t think the companion would get anything other than a bullet. Be that as it may, I can only have men there that I know and whose reactions I can predict. Sorry, son, this isn’t your assignment.”

Marius accepted Mark’s decision without objecting, while his uncle’s gaze rested thoughtfully on the American. Then Michael managed a shaky laugh. “Normal LKA job, Dirk? I’d love to know how you got involved in this. Should I create a bit of a distraction in the front? Then you can disappear unhindered.”

“That’d be good. We don’t have a lot of time to prepare,” Mark said.

Dirk squinted into the darkness and wished he could bring about Michael’s arrival by magic. The damned idiot wouldn’t be late, would he? Apparently, he would. Numerous scenarios shot through his mind. With great determination, he forced himself to calm down, but a certain nervousness remained, not just because another person out walking might stumble over him at any time. By means of a short stay in the hedge, he had fairly easily avoided the old gentleman out walking his aging dachshund. The dog had growled once in his direction, then trotted on.

His black pants with numerous pockets and black sweatshirt were already unusual, but the gun worn openly on his thigh would have provoked a lot of questions. Even his police identification would probably only have a brief calming effect. The street that led through the Oldesloe suburb lay abandoned in front of him. In the last ten minutes only one other vehicle had passed; otherwise, he saw only a few windows still illuminated in the houses, which stood on generous lots that hadn’t been built in an age when every square foot of land cost a fortune and was immediately developed. After a look at the building behind the hedge, he concluded that at least three modern duplexes would have fit on a single property.

A pair of headlights was quickly approaching and ended his mental excursion into the world of real estate. The car slowed and flashed its high beams before it stopped at the bus stop.

Dirk checked that it was only Michael in the car, before informing his colleagues: “Finally. He’s here.” Instead of the usual—considerably more robust—headset, Dirk was wearing an inconspicuous variant that would only be noticed if someone took a very close look, as it consisted of a skin-colored earplug and a thin wire attached at the throat. The transmission quality couldn’t compete with the usual headphones/microphone combination but was adequate and ideal for their purposes.

“It’s about time,” he said to Michael as he dropped into the passenger seat.

The private detective looked straight ahead and appeared not to register Dirk’s presence. Alarmed, he was searching for the right words when Michael’s hand shot forward so quickly that he had no chance to make a defensive move.

Groaning with pain, Dirk tried to evade the pressure of the weapon under his chin, but the headrests left him no room. “Nothing’s going to happen here before I get some answers,” Michael said. The hoarse whisper seemed to belong to a stranger, not the man Dirk had trusted to a certain extent up to this point. A mistake, it appeared.

“Have you gone insane? Right now you’re destroying your only chance of saving your daughter. Put the weapon away.” Dirk had to force himself to tune out the concerned questions from Sven and Mark, who had heard everything over the headset.

“You’re asking me if I’ve gone insane? Last time we saw each other you were running around in a suit, and now this? Who’s your dark-haired friend I’m supposed to trust? Does he have a name? Role? Damn it, I don’t even know if he’s American or German.”

“Tell him,” Mark said, but Dirk didn’t even consider exposing the identity of his friend, particularly as doing so might only lead to a time-wasting argument, and time was something they didn’t have. With determination, he fought back a flash of fear. “Give me a little room,” he said, struggling to breathe.