The Eagle's Covenant (15 page)

The suppositions were academic; they had picked him up as easy as taking sweets from a child. All Conor could do now was wait, and hope there was a way out of his predicament

He didn’t have to wait long. He heard a door open and the sound of music in the background. The sound was cut off as the door closed. Hands lifted him to his feet and took the blindfold off.

He was standing in what was obviously an office. There were the usual accoutrements one associated with such a place: large desk, swivel chair, telephone etc. Against a wall was a computer station. The decor was heavy and masculine. There were framed photographs of people; probably celebrity photographs. Behind the desk were heavy drapes. They were closed and presumably covering a window. From the sound of the music he had briefly heard, Conor assumed he was in some kind of club.

Standing either side of Conor were two men. In front of him was one of the fattest men he had ever seen.

“The Dutchman, I presume?”

The fat man moved and walked behind the desk. To Conor’s amazement he sank his massive frame into the swivel chair.

“So, you know my name.”

Conor shook his head. “No. I only know what they call you.” He sensed the two gorillas beside him tense up. The Dutchman made a small, sideways movement with his head. The two men relaxed.

“What are we to do with you, Mister Lenihan?”        

That disappointed Conor. He had hoped, for a while anyway, that he could maintain the pretence that he was a certain John Buck. Evidently the Dutchman knew otherwise.

“My name is John Buck,” he told him, hoping the lie would stick.

The Dutchman shrugged. “Fine, if you want to be John Buck, you can. I just happen to know you are Conor Lenihan. And it was you who dispatched poor Oscar and Jurgen.”

“You don’t know that,” Conor argued. “You’re making it up. I told you; I worked for Oscar. I was supposed to go on a job with him.”

The Dutchman interrupted. “Stop it, Lenihan. You are wasting your time and mine. I know who you are and that you killed two of my men.” He adopted a condescending look. “The question is; what am I to do with you?”

Conor didn’t give much for his chances of getting out of this alive. He had been trained for such a scenario by the SAS. All he could do was maintain some kind of dialogue and hope some small chance or opportunity might present itself. A chance he would willingly take with both hands. If they weren’t bloody tied!

“What makes you think I was in Oscar’s place?” he asked the Dutchman.

The fat man pushed his bottom lip out. “We saw you go in.” He moved and his flesh wobbled. “You see, Lenihan, we knew there was trouble when Oscar didn’t answer his call yesterday. You weren’t too careful, you know.”

Conor gave a rueful smile. “So what now, are you going to shoot me?”

The Dutchman shook his head. “I don’t know yet. If I had time to finish this conversation, it would inevitably end in your death.” He stood up, with a great deal of effort, from the chair. “As it is I have more pressing business to deal with, so you will have to wait.” He gave a quick lift of the head to the two gorillas beside Conor. “Put him downstairs. We’ll finish this tomorrow.”

The two heavies took hold of Conor and marched him unceremoniously from the room through a door at the rear. They took him along a passageway, through another door and down some steps into what he presumed was the basement. Without a word they shoved him on to a packing case and left him there. He watched them disappear up the stairs, the door close and the lights go out. There was nothing around him except complete blackness.

CHAPTER NINE

Hoffman had finished eating breakfast and was drinking a cup of coffee, his thoughts on the latest football results which were in the paper he was reading. His wife, Elke, had removed the dishes from the table and was back at the table, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“You’re not making the news anymore,” she told him. The coffee pot was put down with a flourish and movement of the shoulders which Hoffman was quite familiar with. It was a kind of ‘I told you so’ movement.

“It’s because we are not making any progress,” he answered and went back to his paper. He didn’t make a habit of discussing cases with his wife unless he felt he could tap the treasure trove of feminine logic. Then he would leak little pieces of information to her and wait for the gem that the entire police force had failed to come up with. Naturally he would go back to the office and claim all the credit. “The kidnappers are being unusually quiet.”

“Why, because they haven’t spoken to you?”

He put his cup down. “They haven’t contacted anyone, I can assure you.”

Elke thought about this for a while. She watched her husband put his head down to the paper again and wondered how she would react if she had a child kidnapped.

“The police always get in the way,” she said.

“Mmm?”

“Well, it must be obvious that all Herr Schiller would want to do is pay up and get his grandson back.” There was no immediate response, so she went on. “All you lot want to do is flood the place with police and frighten the kidnappers away.”

He put the paper down. “This is not a straightforward kidnap.”

“Are there other kinds, then?” she asked. Her eyes hooded over for just a fraction of a second. “Schiller is a powerful man, but if you lot get under his feet, you’ll just annoy him.”

“Are you suggesting we give up and go home?”

She bridled at that a little. “No of course not, but it must be obvious; Schiller has more people working for him than you do, and more resources. He could be in touch with the kidnappers right now and you wouldn’t know about it.”

He disagreed, shook his head and went back to his paper. “We’ll find them,” he said without conviction. Then he looked up again, quite suddenly. She caught the expression on his face.

“Well?

“Oh, nothing,” he lied. “Something I have just remembered.” He finished his coffee in one gulp and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Must go,” he told her, getting to his feet. “I’ll ring you later about dinner this evening.”

He came round the table and kissed her on the lips. “I love you, sweetheart.”

Elke smiled, perhaps a little smugly, and went to the door with him. Hoffman climbed into his car, waved back at his wife and reached for his portable phone. He had Jansch on the end of line within seconds.

“Uwe, Hoffman here. I want you to put a tap on Schiller’s phone. Now.”

“I’ll need a court order —”

“You won’t get one,” Hoffman interrupted. “Schiller’s too powerful to be trifled with. The court will never agree.”

“I could go to the Minister.”

Hoffman shook his head and started the car. He was moving when he spoke again. “That would mean Kistler knowing. He would block it. Just do it Uwe; I’ll accept full responsibility.”

It was Elke who had triggered the thought. With Joanna Schiller away from the house, Schiller could be using her to communicate with the kidnappers. He could have kicked himself for not thinking about it sooner.

He put the car into gear and rolled out of the drive.

When Hoffman arrived at Police Headquarters, Jansch was waiting for him. Hoffman went through into his private office, beckoning Jansch who immediately followed him and closed the door behind them.

“Well?” Hoffman was impatient to hear that Jansch had carried out his order.

“I’ve had to invoke Special Powers as a matter of State Security, sir. I passed it down to ‘Eleven’. They weren’t happy but, seeing as your signature will be all over the document....” He left it at that.

Hoffman was satisfied. “Good work, Uwe. I want twenty four hour surveillance on the line and all messages recorded. If that bastard starts talking to the kidnappers, I want to know about it.”

Jansch was surprised at Hoffman’s choice of words and his reasons. “What makes you think Schiller is in contact with them?”

Hoffman looked away. “I don’t. But it didn’t occur to me that Frau Schiller’s departure from Schiller’s residence may have been a subterfuge.” He looked back at Jansch quite suddenly. “I take it there has been no contact?”

Jansch shook his head. “None yet sir; as far as we know.”

Hoffman relaxed, sinking back into his chair. He indicated to Jansch that he should sit down. “Good. Now, what have you got for me, anything new?”

Jansch held up one hand, splayed his fingers and with the other hand began ticking off each point as he made it.

“The counterfeit inquiry has dried up a bit. Oberkommissar Lechter might downgrade it. I couldn’t find anything in Cologne that might implicate the kidnappers. However” – he moved on to the second finger – “two stiffs have turned up in a flat in Cologne. One of them is a local hood. Both shot to death. No reason at all why this should have anything to do with us, but I spoke to the Chief on the phone last night. He said he would take it on board as part of the counterfeit investigation in case there is a link.” Third finger. “The limpet bomb – the one that was used in the attack?”

Hoffman’s mind was already drifting away to the reasons why Joanna Schiller had left. He dragged it back.

“What about it?”

“Well, forensics identified part of a serial number on the casing. It has been traced to a shipment dispatched by the Czech manufacturer. The Czech Government were very helpful on this. They had to be.”

“Oh, why?”

“It was a consignment for GSG9, sir”

GSG9: Grenzschutzgruppe; the Federal Republic’s Specialist anti-terrorist Force, recruited from, and answerable to the Federal Police.

“Shit.”

“I had a phone call during the night from them. They carried out an inventory check. One bomb is missing.”

Hoffman shook his head. “Not any more it isn’t. It’s in pieces at forensics. God, the shit will hit the fan when this gets out.”

“They’ll keep a lid on it, sir. But there will be an internal inquiry.”

Hoffman knew how keen the Special boys would be to keep this quiet. If the Press got hold of it they would have a field day. He waved a dismissive hand across his desk.

“Just put it on file and keep it in the back of your mind. If they can tell us who took it, we’ll be on a winner. Otherwise….”

Jansch put his hands down. “That’s all, sir. Apart from pushing on with inquiries there’s little else we can do.” He stood up. “I’ll go and see if the line tap has produced anything.”

Hoffman agreed. His job now was to stir things up.

The phone rang. He picked it up, listened and turned a pale colour. He then put the phone down and cursed quietly.

He stopped Jansch. “That was Schiller’s secretary. They received a child’s finger in a special delivery package this morning.”

*

Joseph Schneider had slipped out for a couple of hours. Breggie had been quite edgy, but the baby seemed to be responding to the prescription. Joseph wanted no part of it and was getting tetchy himself. The original plan to play happy families simply wasn’t working. Neither he nor Breggie could handle it. More to the point, he was getting frustrated at acting as nursemaid to a sick baby and an increasingly neurotic woman.

Once upon a time he would have spent the best part of the day in bed with Breggie and then gone out partying through the night with her. She had always been fun to be with. Now she was dull and morose. She seemed to have lost that wild edge and her zest for life. It was obvious to him that she was preoccupied with the baby’s illness, but she was also afraid of the organisation; something that he would have said, once upon a time, was impossible. Breggie laughed in the face of authority.

He drove into the city, parked up and ate breakfast at a fast food restaurant. He used the time to read the morning papers and see that there was virtually no news of the kidnap. Whatever there was had been consigned to the inner pages. The sports section offered more serious reading for him and he whiled away the time in relaxed harmony with himself.

When he was ready, Joseph left the restaurant and found a public telephone box. He dialled a number, checking his watch to ensure it was the correct time, and waited for someone to come on the line. He heard the phone line click and the sound of music in the background.

“Yes?”

“It’s Joseph.”

“Ah, good morning Joseph. I’m afraid I have some painful news for you.”

Joseph chuckled. “What could be more painful than living with a sick child and a neurotic woman?”

“Well, it won’t be for much longer. We want you to terminate her.”

To say Joseph was stunned would be an understatement. He was mortified. So much so that his reflex reaction was not to believe what he had just heard.

“Say that again.”

“Terminate her. She has been compromised.”

Joseph felt the needles of fear stabbing at his flesh. If Breggie had been compromised, then why not him? In which case the organisation would want to get rid of him as well.

“What happened?” he asked. He could feel a tremor in his voice.

“The Schiller woman has identified her. We have about twelve hours grace. She must be dispatched by then.”

“What about the baby?” Joseph had a fleeting glimpse of himself trying to pacify the little wretch until the operation was over.

“Just do the job and let me know when it is finished. We will come for the baby.” There was a pause. Music thumped out beyond the voice. “And Joseph, don’t worry; you are perfectly safe. You have my word on it. Phone me when it is done.”

The phone went dead and Joseph felt a cloak of overwhelming despair descend on him. How on earth could he do this to Breggie? He knew he would have to, that much was quite clear. He suddenly harboured visions of running with Breggie, but he knew the inevitable outcome did not bear thinking about. No, he would have to do it and it would have to be quick.

He put the phone back on the hook and turned away from the booth. A stranger waiting to use the phone gave him a withering look which Joseph did not see. He went back to his car and sat in it for some considerable time before starting the engine and driving back to the house.

Breggie was in a better frame of mind just then. The baby was sleeping a little better, and she had managed a few hours unbroken sleep. Joseph had gone out while she was asleep. Because they were no longer sleeping together, she didn’t know he had gone until she came down to make a cup of coffee.

She spent the morning by herself, only having to feed little Manny once. She did wonder what was keeping Joseph but didn’t dwell on what might be. She did know that he made contact each day with his controller. She hoped he might bring her some news that would point to the end of this insufferable job.

She had decided to cook herself some lunch and had put a saucepan of water on the stove to boil when she heard Joseph drive up. She went to the window and looked through the curtain. Usually Joseph would step out of the car, slam the door behind him and head for the house. But this time he didn’t. He sat in the car for some time. Probably no more than half a minute, but from his complete lack of movement, it was obvious something was on his mind.

He got out of the car, closed the door and looked back over his shoulder at the house. His body language was all wrong to Breggie. He looked reluctant to move and there was quite clearly sadness in his expression when she saw his face.

Intrigued, Breggie went to the front door and opened it for him. He seemed surprised to see her standing there and walked towards her as if in a dream. He stopped at the door and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He looked forlorn and childlike.

“What’s the matter, Joseph?” she asked.

He shrugged and said nothing. Instead he shouldered his way past her as though he was in a temper. She shut the door and followed him into the room, asking again what it was that was troubling him.

“Nothing!” he snapped and threw himself into an armchair.

Breggie decided it would be better if she left him alone. If he did have something on his mind, it wouldn’t be too long before she knew what it was. And because she was feeling in a better frame of mind she might use her feminine wiles on him to find out the truth. She decided to leave him there and went into the kitchen to finish cooking her lunch.

Joseph watched her go. As soon as she had disappeared into the kitchen he went to a drawer in the dining room unit and took out a loaded, Browning 9mm Pistol and silencer. He chambered a round and leaned against the unit to stop himself from trembling. There was nothing else for him but to get it over with quickly. If he dwelt on it, the reasons why and the reality of it all, he wouldn’t have the guts to go through with it.

He took the safety catch off and walked slowly towards the kitchen.