Shrouded in Silence (6 page)

"Whatever."

"One more of those cute replies and you're finished."

Burchel's eyes narrowed, and his mouth dropped slightly, but he said nothing.

"If you are going to work for me, our relationship will be on a professional basis with you doing
exactly
as you are told." Stein leaned forward so he could stare straight into Burchel's eyes. I will always refer to you by the name of Klaus Burchel although I know your real name and who your grandfather was."

Klaus Burchel jerked and the breath seemed to leave him. A defeated look swept over his face and all swagger vanished. "You do?"

"I know you are financially overextended and need the work," Stein continued. "You are in Italy because you needed to get out of Germany for legal reasons as well as a few financial problems. If you perform as you are capable, I will reward you significantly. I am hiring you to be my bodyguard and driver. You will be asked to do a number of things that are illegal. You've done such in the past, so those jobs should not be a problem for you. As your service to me increases, so will your pay. If you don't, you will be instantly terminated. I know that you can become difficult and resistant. I also know you were raised to be conforming. I expect instant obedience. Understood?"

Burchel swallowed hard. "Yes . . . yes. I agree."

"Can I take it you are willing to work on this basis?"

"Absolutely. Yes. I do need the money, but how did you find out about . . . my grandfather?"

"I made a complete check of your background because I have the resources to do so." Stein bounced his long thin fingers together. "I know all about you. For example, I know that you hate Jews and Americans."

Burchel's mouth dropped.

Stein reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. "I am giving you a thousand euros to buy new clothes. Get rid of those despicable tennis shoes and worn pants. Throw them away and start dressing like a competent human being. When I see you again I want you in a suit. Any problem with that?

"No sir!" Klaus Burchel stuck out his hand for the money.

Stein kept the bills in his hand. "Once you take this cash you are working for me and I expect absolute fidelity. You will be at my beck and call twenty-four hours a day. I expect to reach you by cell phone at a moment's notice. Is that clear?"

Burchel's mouth dropped slightly as he nodded his head.

"How long you been snorting coke?"

Burchel caught his breath and reeled back in his chair. He bit his lip. "Too long. I will quit doing drugs."

"You will, indeed," Stein said. "And don't renege on me if you want to keep this job?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right," Albert Stein said and handed him the money. "You can leave. Get yourself cleaned up and report to my apartment by 9 a.m. tomorrow." He shoved a card across the table. "The address and phone number."

"My phone number is—"

"I already have it, " Stein cut him off. "Now get on your way."

Klaus Burchel stood up. All signs of arrogant indifference had disappeared. His head kept bobbing as he backed away. Finally, he turned and walked swiftly down the street.

Through his thick glasses, Albert Stein watched him disappear into the crowded thoroughfare. As usual, he had started the relationship by putting himself in firm control. He had no question in his mind but that Burchel would do as he had been told. He needed the money. Whether Burchel liked it or not, following orders was simply part of the German militaristic disposition that flowed in his bloodstream as it had with his grandfather, Richard Baer, who Albert still admired. He would make that inclination work for his interests.

Klaus Burchel blended into the crowd and disappeared down the stairway running into the subway system. At the bottom, he stopped to count the euros again. A thought floated through his mind. He could take the money and run. What a plum gig he could throw! A thousand euros would buy several nights of premium highs. On the other hand, the old freak could turn up information like a magician making canaries appear out of thin air. Running might end up with getting his head smashed. The old man even knew about his grandfather and Klaus's true name.

Burchel needed the money badly. Rome was expensive, and it cost even to bed down in flop houses. He'd gotten his butt hung out to dry once too often. In the shadows of the subway, Klaus Burchel made a decision. No matter how much he hated this arrogant jerk's demands, he'd buckle under. If Stein could gather the information that he had, he might be useful if a possible run-in with the police bubbled up. But most of all, Klaus simply needed the money. He'd keep his mouth shut and, to keep the cash flowing, kiss the old man's backside as faithfully as a guard dog welcoming the master home.

5

T
he aroma of pasta cooked in garlic, butter, and cheese drifted through the café while a man with an accordion walked among the tables, playing familiar Italian tunes and occasionally bursting into singing. Off in the distance, the busy sounds of the Piazza Campo dei Fiori added a touch of local color from one of Rome's most picturesque squares and markets. Craftsmen displayed their leather products in stalls next to a multitude of tiny shops selling everything from roses to eggplants. The chatter and clatter drifting in only added to the atmosphere of Der Pallaro restaurant.

Michelle set her fork down and looked around the expansive room. "Jack, I'm surprised we came here tonight. It's not inexpensive. We've never been to this café before."

"I thought you'd like a change of pace and the food has an excellent reputation. They serve some of everything they are making in any given day, and their portions are generous. I'd always heard we should drop in. Today seemed like a good time." His smile appeared tense. "I bought you that new Bisou Bisou tunic because I like the large red flowers against the black design, and you look chic in those leggings as well. When I saw them on the rack in the window, I knew I had to get it for you."

Michelle looked at the fettuccine on a plate painted with flourishes of a meandering colorful design. "Yes," she said hesitantly. "I love the new clothes and your thoughtfulness, but we don't often eat out at such expensive bistros."

"A breath of fresh air always invigorates," Jack said. "Puts more zip in your step." He chuckled. "Maybe, a little filet will strike a note of romance in your heart tonight. Hmm?" He forced a chuckle again.

Michelle thought his laugh to be a bit nervous. He hadn't bought such beautiful clothing just on a whim. Some unexplained situation was unfolding, and he clearly didn't want to tell her what it was. Not that romance wasn't in the air, but more was going on than Jack had explained. He didn't generally hide things from her, but she intuitively sensed when more was going on. He hadn't picked out this festive restaurant because perfume floated through the air.

"Look, dear," Michelle used the most thoughtful and kind voice she had, "I think we're here because something more than a full moon is out tonight." She leaned over the table. "Did you get a speeding ticket?"

"Oh, no! No. No. Nothing like that."

"Then level with me. Why are we
really
out on the town tonight."

Jack took a deep breath. "Well . . . I . . . I . . . just thought you might have been bothered because of the bombing in the subway system." He rubbed his chin nervously. "I was concerned because I know how upset these incidences make you."

His answer hit all of her panic buttons. It wasn't what she had expected. Suddenly, Michelle couldn't catch her breath, and her head felt extremely light. An uncontrollable urge surged up from within and her heart started to pound. His explanation completely flipped her.

"I know that fear is bumping around these streets like a runaway motorbike. Everywhere I turn, I hear people talking about the terrorist attack, and I know that has to be highly upsetting to you."

Michelle tried not to respond, but her hands had started to shake, and she immediately pulled them under the table.

"Maybe you don't want to talk about the incident," Jack said. "I only want you to know that I'm willing to listen if you're struggling with the impact."

"You certainly outflanked me," she sputtered and cleared her throat. "Yes, you certainly did."

Jack was intensely studying her face. Not a good sign.

"You're getting a little pale, dear. Are you all right?"

"Jack, just because I get nervous when bombs go off doesn't make me into a freak." Her voice raised a notch. "Sure, I was only a child when that awful event happened to my family, but I'm OK. Don't worry so much." She could feel her hands becoming wet. "Really."

"I just don't want you to get overanxious," Jack said.

Michelle could feel her knees becoming wobbly and knew she must get out of the chair quickly. "Honestly, I'm fine, Jack. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll be right back."

"You're not OK," Jack said. "Let me call—"

"I'm fine," Michelle said more dogmatically than she intended. "I'll be right back."

Her first steps away from the table felt so uncertain than she feared she might fall, but the bathroom wasn't that far away. Michelle stared at the door and knew she had to get inside that small room before she exploded. Once inside the bathroom, she dropped the toilet lid and sat down. The room began to whirl around her.

Jack had been more than right. The subway incident had triggered terrible emotions she had to fight. In the middle of the night she had tried to pour her anxiety into a secret container she tried to store deep in her unconscious. Although she had partially succeeded, Michelle knew a confrontational stimulus could pop the cork. For reasons she couldn't grasp, that had happened tonight.

Michelle watched her fingers start to shrink and her hands change into the shape of a five-year-old child's. The wall, only feet in front of her face, was becoming a window. In the background, she could see the city of Cerignola and the road sloping up toward the rolling mountains. Her sharp-pointed shoes disappeared and shiny, black-patent leather, little-girl shoes took their place. The wall vanished and Michelle could see the back of her father's head in the front seat ahead of her.

"Thank you for a wonderful weekend," her father told her mother.

"Of course, my love," Maria said back and smiled.

Their car kept moving steadily up the incline, and little Michelle could see the mountains getting larger and beginning to loom over them. She could still almost smell the sea air as it washed in along the coast of Bari where they'd spent their vacation. The water had been warm, and she loved playing in the sand. Little red crabs always scurried along the shoreline. Michelle loved her father's trips forever.

Ahead, around the curve, a large gasoline truck barreled down the road on the wrong side of the divider. Michelle looked again. The truck appeared to be coming right at them.

"Watch out!" father screamed and pointed.

Far from slowing, the driver didn't even look at them. Michelle saw his eyes when the man finally realized his huge semi was coming straight at their car. The man's face contorted into a grimace of terror, and he jerked the wheel violently to the left just as Michelle's father yanked their vehicle in the opposite direction.

Michelle felt her side of the car rising off the pavement as the vehicle careened into the ditch next to the side of the mountain. The car kept lifting and started to tip over. The truck's cab twisted violently and the trailer behind swung toward their car. Before she had time to grab the door, the backseat, anything. Michelle felt herself turning upside down. She bounced off the top of the car just as the back end of the trailer caught their front fender and spun their car like a top. The backseat cushion broke loose and tumbled on top of her. The car turned upright again only to bounce over once more. Broken glass flew in all directions. She hit the ceiling again before the car smashed against the massive rock jutting out of the side of the mountain. Michelle tumbled onto the crumpled top of their car. Pain pushed through her body like a rampant fever, and she hurt all over. The smell of gasoline rushed through the scattered windows before an explosion sent a ball of fire straight up into the sky. Smoke and searing heat surged through the car.