Ghosts of the Past (37 page)

“We left him in Stein.”

Alden raised his gun again and aimed it Bolivar’s other foot.

Bolivar held up his hands in front of his face. “He’s in the garage in a blue BMW.

Alden nodded to Marshall who slipped out the back doors into the garage. It took him ten seconds to locate the BMW. Slipping up behind an unsuspecting Sullivan, he tapped on the window with the Beretta, instantaneously extracting a frightened Sullivan from the car. With an additional wave of the gun, Sullivan wasted no time walking in front of Marshall back to the party in the banquet room.

It was half past three o’clock, and Shutt was beginning to get little anxious that he had not heard from Courtney Lewis.

Daniel’s radio crackled again and startled the three occupants of the law office.

“Control, this is Kirsch in the garage. I’ve got a problem. I just had a large, white male come pull another white male out of a car at gunpoint, and disappear into the hotel.”

“Lobby one, this is control, did you have anybody that fits that description come through your area.”

“Negative control. The lobby is empty and has been for the last fifteen minutes. There are some meeting rooms around the corner, they could be back there.”

“What’s going on?” Shutt asked.

“We got problems,” answered Daniel, as he translated the conversations.

“We need to go,” said Shutt. “They’re probably trying to store the stuff in one of those meeting rooms. They must have company, and we never saw them get in.”

Daniel started to put the radio to his mouth to order everybody into the hotel, but Shutt put his hand up to stop. “Wait, let me try something to make sure.” He pulled out his cell phone and hit the redial on Courtney’s cell phone number.

The ring came through muffled, but loud enough to hear on the phone in Courtney’s pants pocket.

“Is that you?” Alden looked at Courtney.

She pulled the phone out, as the ring grew louder. “Yeah.’ She looked down at the number, “It’s my father.”

She answered it before Alden could say anything. “Hello Daddy.”

Shutt spoke quickly. “If you’re in trouble, say ‘I’m fine’.”

“I’m fine,” Courtney responded.

Alden pointed the gun at her. “Hang it up. Tell him you’ll call back later.”

“Get them into the garage, by the trailer, anywhere out in the open,” pleaded Shutt.

Alden took a step towards Courtney. “Off… NOW!”

“Thanks, but I have to go Daddy. I’ll call you back later.” She ended the call, turned the phone off, and put it back in her jacket pocket.

Shutt turned to Daniel, “Let’s go. We need to cover the garage and all the hotel exits. Let’s hope she can get them into the open where we can make something happen. Otherwise we’ll wind up with a hostage situation, and I’m not real confident of the stability of the guys we’re dealing with.”

Daniel spoke into the radio and barked orders to everyone on the team. Shutt had already headed down the steps with Pernod in tow. Daniel caught up with them as they hit the front door of the hotel. The three of them joined the two officers inside the hotel had sealed off the end of the hallway leading back to the banquet rooms area. Officer Kirsch manned the garage side entrances, and the fourth plainclothes officer covered the back of the hotel by the open garage door. Uniformed help was on its way over from across the street to back up both of them.

Knabel was getting antsy about all of the commotion that occurred in the last ten minutes. “Boss, we might want to move him out of here,” he pointed his free hand at Keitel’s slumped body, which was beginning to spread blood onto the carpeted floor, “find what we came for, and get the hell out of here ourselves.”

“I’ve gotta agree.” Marshall added.

Alden looked first at Ferguson, then to Courtney. “So you found some things from this crash site, and you have it outside in the garage?”

“That’s right. Some of it, but not all.” Courtney lied. She was betting that he wanted all of it, and he would keep them alive until he found out where the rest of it was.

“I’m looking for one thing in particular.” Alden grabbed the collar of Keitel’s shirt, drug him over to the back doors, and handed him off to Marshall. “Horst, put him in the storage closet for now.”

Courtney’s curiosity got the better of her. “What are you looking for in particular?”

“I’m looking for a metal briefcase, silver with a Nazi inscription.”

“I found one,” Ferguson mumbled, as he finally lifted himself from the floor, still rubbing at his gut.

“Yeah, I saw it too,” said Courtney. I’m not sure if we brought it down or it’s still up there.”

Ferguson was certain she knew were the briefcase was, realized she was up to something, and played along. “I’m not sure, but I know I got it out of the plane and the cave, and put it in the pile.”

The tension in the room was suffocating and the temperature seemed to have grown incredibly warm. Beads of sweat were prevalent on everyone’s face, and Alden wiped at his forehead with a flick of his thumb. “Where’s your car and trailer now?”

“Just outside the doors. It’s a Jeep, backed up to an open garage door,” said Courtney.

Alden rubbed hard at his forehead, and then looked at Courtney. “Is there room for us to pull a car up behind you?”

“I think so. Yes, definitely.”

“Paul, you get the car and bring it up to this door. We’ll load these two in our car,” Alden kicked at Bolivar on the floor and thumbed at Sullivan standing next to Marshall, “and you and Horst go with them. I’ll ride with the other two. We’ll dump the dead one in the back of their Jeep. We’ll exit from here and drive west until I call you on the cell phone. Don’t lose sight of me. You, pick him up and get him outside.” He gestured at Sullivan to help Bolivar off the floor.

Knabel had already gone for the car, while the others congregated in the storage area. Alden instructed Ferguson to help Marshall pick up Keitel and drag him out to the Jeep. The Mercedes pulled up behind the trailer as Marshall watched Ferguson struggle to load the lifeless body of Keitel into the back cargo area of the Jeep.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Marshall stepped forward; keeping his gun trained on Ferguson, and grabbed the metal briefcase that was lying in the open on top of a stack of tools. “Look what we have here.”

Alden came out into the garage with Courtney next to him, while Sullivan was busy helping Bolivar, who was cussing incessantly under his breath, into the front seat of the Mercedes.

“Would this resemble something you might be looking for?” Marshall held up the briefcase in front of Alden.

Before Alden could reply, a police car skidded to a halt in front of the Jeep, and a voice called out from inside the garage.

“This is the police, please drop your weapons, and lay down on the ground face first spread eagle.”

Marshall responded immediately by dropping the briefcase to the floor, wheeling around and firing off three rounds at the police car, then crouching forward while letting go two more rounds in the general direction of the voice. Knabel had no line of sight towards the police car outside the garage, but he took aim and fired at a silver Audi about twenty meters away that had an armed man hiding behind an open driver’s side door. The windshield and door window exploded and the dull thud of several rounds crunched into automobile steel.

The briefcase skidded toward Alden, who snatched it up under his arm, spun to his right and aimed his pistol at Courtney who was on her knees hiding against the concrete wall. His shot went wide right just over her head as Ferguson came crashing into him shoulder first, the two of them and the gun skidding across the pavement. By the time Alden had recovered his pistol, Ferguson had grabbed Courtney’s arm and dragged her back into the storage room.

He pushed her through the other open door into the banquet room tumbling onto the floor.

“Don’t move.” Shutt lowered his Sig Sauer P220 pistol. He peeked around the right corner of the door just in time to see Alden step in from the garage, notice his face, and loose off three shots that splintered the doorframe and sailed wildly into the banquet room.

“Shit!” Shutt pulled back and wiped away blood dripping from his forehead. Without hesitating, he moved the gun from his right hand to his left, stuck it out in the open door and triggered five rounds wildly into the closet. Daniel crawled up behind him while another officer dove across the open doorway to the other side and leaned forward against the wall.

Alden retreated into the garage, retrieved the briefcase, crawled on hands and knees behind the Mercedes, and then between two cars parked together in at the start of a parking lane five meters away. He thought about shouting to Marshall and Knabel, but soon realized he had not been seen.

Knabel crawled into the driver’s seat of the Mercedes and called to Marshall who squatted down in front of the car to reload his weapon. “Get in here. It’s time to get out of this mess.” He looked over at Bolivar, planted two bullets into his left cheek, and kicked him out of the car with his right foot. He aimed at Sullivan who was squatting outside the open passenger door, but before he could fire, Marshall yanked him away by the shirt collar and threw him back against the wall.

The uniformed police officer outside by the Jeep had just about had enough of being fired upon by Marshall. While his partner had continued to return fire, he secured a Sig 551 SWAT rifle from the trunk of their bullet riddled cruiser, and rolled on the ground until he came up on the left side of the crate-filled trailer. He established a perfect firing lane between two crates and opened up on the Mercedes as Marshall was climbing in the front seat.

The entire front windshield disintegrated and the radiator spewed coolant, as the semi-automatic rifle sprayed 15 rounds of .223 ammunition across the front of the big German sedan.

“Get in the damn car!” Knabel raised his head off the console after ducking down to avoid the gunfire. He looked up just in time to see Marshall stumble backward, the large hole in his chest pumping blood out onto the white turtleneck. He regained his balance, stared blankly at Knabel and crumpled to the pavement.

Another staccato of fire rained down on the Mercedes, one round creasing Knabel’s chin, another slamming into his left shoulder, and a third removing a large portion of his left ear. He had enough. He tossed his gun out what was left of the front window and screamed out a surrender. He remained hunkered down, as it got eerily quiet. He never heard the 9mm slug from Marshall’s gun penetrate the top of his skull. Sullivan dropped the weapon and yelled another plea of surrender.

Alden walked briskly west down
Haupstrasse
away from the hotel as if he was just heading home from another day at work. The stairwell from the garage was 50 meters behind him. He looked across the street, then in both directions, and crossed over into a deserted side street on his way to
Ahornstrasse.
His senses were still on high alert and he listened for any footsteps behind him. He started to whistle to relax his nerves.

A dog barked as a young woman opened a side door to a beauty salon and placed a handful of letters in the wall mailbox. An elderly man appeared out of nowhere, stepping through a wrought iron fence that guarded a flight of stairs to a tavern located below street level. He nodded and smiled at Alden as he walked past in the opposite direction. Alden reciprocated and continued straight ahead, but before he could resume his whistling, the muzzle of a gun pressed into his back, and he was forced several meters forward and then into a narrow alley between buildings.

“Easy old man.”

“Shut up Gerhard. Drop the briefcase.”

Alden did as he was told. “I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage, I don’t know your name.”

“You don’t need to. Lie down and put your arms behind you.” The older man pulled a large plastic cable tie out of his pocket, knelt down with one knee in Alden’s back, and pulled his wrists together laying one over top of the other. Unfortunately, he compromised his control of the gun he had been training on Alden’s back, and Alden seized the moment.

He spun quickly, lifting the old man off his back, while his right leg swung around and whipped the man forward into the wall. Alden rolled up on his knees, pulled out the Beretta from the crook of his back, and leveled it on the old man’s head.

“I guess you have the advantage now,” said the old man, rubbing at the developing lump on the top of his head. He eyed his Walther pistol lying on the ground in front of him.

“I wouldn’t consider it,” said Alden. He reached out and pulled the weapon over to him while concentrating his eyesight and gun on the woozy old man. “Now, since you know my name, won’t you be so kind as to give me yours.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Well that’s a shame, I usually know the names of men I kill.”

“Directly, yes. Indirectly, no.”

The response drew a complete look of puzzlement on Alden’s face. He could hear the escalating shrill of police sirens in the distance. “I don’t have time for games old man. You just butted in to something you had no business getting involved with.” He raised his gun to target the old man’s forehead and heard the muted pop of a silenced pistol discharging a single round. He lost all feeling and motor function, dropped the gun, and was already dead as he fell face forward into the briefcase lying on the ground.

“Jesus, what took you so long,” said the old man.

The stranger at the end of the alley lowered his silenced Walther and stepped forward to help his father to his feet. “Sorry, once you got out of the car, I had a hard time locating you.”

It was organized chaos back at the hotel. Law enforcement officials from every conceivable branch were involved, forensic and crime scene teams were being dispatched from Zurich, and would soon be descending on the small town of Wildhaus. Television crews and reporters were already arriving at the site of the dramatic shootout.

Ferguson and Courtney sat in shock on a sofa in the lobby of the hotel, sipping on coffee and trying to re-establish their heartbeats. Shutt sat in an armchair across from them, while a medical technician put the finishing touches on a bandage to his forehead. They had yet to speak a word to each other.