A Shadow Falls, page 39
part #2 of Jenny Aaron Series
‘If you were engulfed in flames, a metre away from me, I wouldn’t lift a finger to help you.’
‘That casts a shadow on our relationship.’
‘I’d sooner throw myself at Kim Jong-un.’
‘You and me. Did you never think about it? I did. And you’re very ungrateful. In Rome, I let you live.’
‘Only so I could testify that you’d been killed.’
‘Not at all, for something like that I just bribe a few policemen,’ he says with that slight rasp in his voice that she once found so sexy. ‘I did it because our kiss meant something to me. Because I was touched by your courage. Because you would have died for me.’
‘How did you establish contact with Varga?’
‘The blonde chick, Varga’s table decoration that evening, was a recent acquisition. Her predecessor had worked for me. She was an exceptionally capable woman. It was a breeze for her to make Varga drool at a party and give him a bit of pleasure for a time. While he saw her as a bimbo who thought Titian was some type of fashionista, she spied on him and found out that he was planning to enter the German gas trade. I suggested to him that I might be of use in that respect. He promised me two million and assumed I would be overjoyed.’
‘Why didn’t she open the safe for you?’
‘She tried to. Varga caught her red-handed. If you’d seen her corpse, you’d have wondered whether it was male or female.’
‘She didn’t talk? Despite being tortured?’
‘Nobody betrays me. She knew that it wouldn’t save her, and that it would spell the death sentence for her brother and her parents.’
Aaron’s heartbeat is nudging her thoughts along in slow motion. ‘The bomb that killed Varga’s son, that was you,’ she whispers. ‘What harm had that boy done you?’
‘The night I died in Rome, Varga left for his country estate in Tuscany. The child was asleep in the car. The painting was in an escort vehicle; he couldn’t bear to be parted from it. My men liquidated him and his bodyguards near Montepulciano. They let his son live. They said that he wasn’t a danger, that he couldn’t identify any of them. I pondered this for days. I allowed the boy to be taken to Varga’s brother. But in the end a child is as dangerous as a man.’
‘Did I overlook something back then? Could I have known that you’re alive?’
‘Oh yes. Tosca. I especially asked the chauffeur to make the detour so I could tell you about it. That was fun, although not without risk. Your cover story was helpful, as it said that you don’t like operas. I correctly assumed that this was true. Otherwise you would have found out much sooner. Baron Scarpia wants Tosca to sleep with him. In return he promises Tosca that the execution of her lover Cavaradossi will only be feigned. She agrees. But Scarpia lied, Cavaradossi is shot. With us it was the other way round. The execution was staged, and the man for whom you were prepared to die is still alive. It was obvious really.’
‘What did you want Bas Makata for?’ she asks.
‘Respect. You’re fast.’
‘What for?’
‘He was exchangeable. There are many Makatas.’
‘Were you in Avignon with Berg?’
‘Did I stand you up there? Sorry. Mind you, I waited in vain in Marrakech. So we’re even.’
‘Were you there?’ she asks again.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I was advised against it.’
‘By who?’
Keyes takes his time. ‘A gentleman ought to keep his promises, but in this case I’ll have to owe you the answer.’
‘You wanted to ask me something too.’
‘Yes. When do I get my money?’
‘I’ll pin the bank draft to your corpse.’
‘What’s the point of your revenge? You aren’t Black Mamba and this isn’t Kill Bill. Give me my billions and we’ll leave it at that.’
‘You’re scared of me? That’s wise,’ she replies coldly. ‘You sent ten killers into that hotel in Rome, ten into the souks, ten to Layla’s villa. That’s the kind of coward you are. But you’ll come to realize that there aren’t enough men in this world to protect you.’
‘And how many are protecting you? A dozen? Two? Is that supposed to worry me? Believe me: I’m not as cowardly as you think. We’ll face each other. We’ll be a close as we were in the lift in Rome. You’re of value to me, you have to transfer the money into an account of my choice. I can’t afford to delegate that; two billion is too tempting.’
Keyes is silent for a long time.
Aaron hears him breathe as she glows in the snow.
He says: ‘You know, darling, a forward transaction is nothing more than a bet on the value of an investment in the future. You accepted Holm’s bequest. You were prepared to risk everything for the truth. You banked on winning. But now you’re in the red. Sorry, in the end all positions must be closed.’
Keyes hangs up.
The phone falls from Aaron’s numb hand and into the snow. She doesn’t even notice. Her headache explodes. She doesn’t hear the door opening.
Flemming says: ‘We’re going now.’
36
The armoured transporter, escorted by the two BMWs, makes its way along the rural road. Nickel is sitting in the back with Aaron and Luca. The boy hasn’t said a word since he came back from seeing his mother. In a bend, he slides up against Aaron’s arm. He stays, seeking closeness.
She is shaking and sweating. It’s as though every thought is being pinned to the inside of her skull with a stapler. Everything around her is lurching.
‘When someone is reborn – what’s it like?’ Luca whispers. ‘Do they know who they were before?’
‘I’ll have to ask my papa,’ she replies.
‘How? Can you talk to him?’
Aaron claws her way from one word to the next.
‘In my dreams, if I wish for it really hard.’
He thinks about this.
‘What do you talk about?’ he asks.
‘I tell him that I love him.’
‘Can he give you a kiss?’
‘Yes, he does that very often. Even if I can’t remember the dream anymore: I still feel his kiss when I wake up. Don’t you sometimes have a tear on your cheek when you wake up in the morning?’
‘Yes. Was that my papa?’
‘Of course. And your mama can do that too.’
‘She said that she will always be with me, even if I can’t see her anymore. Is that the same, do you think?’
‘That’s exactly the same. When did she say that to you?’
‘A little while ago, when she was so poorly.’
She squeezes Luca against her.
‘But if she’s reborn and she doesn’t remember me and I don’t know that it’s her, then we won’t recognize each other.’
‘What about you and me? We met in our dreams and we didn’t even know each other before,’ Aaron whispers back. ‘But we still found each other.’
He ponders. ‘Who do you talk to when you’re sad?’
‘My very best friend.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Sandra.’
‘You’re my very best friend too.’
‘Yes, I am.’ Tears well up inside her.
‘But sometimes not talking is nice too, isn’t it?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’
What remains is Luca’s silence. There is nothing she could say or do to console him. Her heartbeat is slowing down more and more. It feels to Aaron as though it takes hours to form each thought.
How confident Keyes was on the phone. How arrogant.
She didn’t bother asking Fricke whether the number could be traced. Her father’s killer would never make that kind of mistake.
The droning of the heavy transporter and the twelve-centimetre aramid armour could be reassuring. Not even a grenade or a mine would crack the vehicle. The rear door can only be opened from the inside. They have a separate ventilation system; even a gas attack would be futile.
Still, these things don’t offer complete safety.
What if Keyes’ men set up a roadblock? Their colleagues in the two BMWs would have to leave their cars and engage in a gunfight. If the enemy managed to eliminate them, Rogge in the driver’s cab of the transporter would have no option but to look on while they smash the windscreen. There is a button in the passenger cabin that will paralyse the vehicle’s electronics, so it can no longer be moved from the spot.
But that wouldn’t really protect Aaron, Luca and Nickel.
It depends where the attack takes place.
The Teufelsbach hill farm lies on a high plateau that is scarred with crevasses. The nearest police station is in Mittenwald, an eternity away. They will soon be turning off the main road. The last stretch is a steep track through spruce forest. It would be ideal there. Aaron thinks about the thick snow falling from the sky, she can feel the transporter sliding on the icy wheel ruts. Even if Rogge sends off an emergency call before he is liquidated, it will be at least half an hour before any patrol cars can get here in these conditions. The local police would be no match for Keyes’ men.
They could use welders to cut open the transporter, kill Nickel and disappear with Aaron and Luca. Even on top form, and sighted, she wouldn’t have a chance against seven or eight men. And now? She’ll be glad if she can even get out the van without help when they arrive.
But once they’re at the hill farm Luca will be safe.
Aaron will escape once the drug has left her bloodstream. Tomorrow at the latest. Right in front of Keyes. She has to face him. She has been thinking about how she can disappear from the house ever since they left Munich. Demirci will have taken measures to prevent this.
She doesn’t have control over Fricke, though. He will help Aaron.
Once she is in a room with Keyes, once she is facing him, she will find a way to kill him.
She knows her way around the hill farm. She spent two weeks there one summer, questioning an Iranian who had defected to the West with information on his country’s nuclear programme. Aaron had enjoyed taking a cup of coffee out onto the terrace early in the mornings, to watch the mountains yawning out clouds. Dewdrops hung like bells from the branches of the firs. It was so quiet that she could hear the ravens hopping around in the grass; there are lots of ravens up there.
But when she thinks of the hill farm she sees herself knocking on the Iranian’s door and remembers how he didn’t open, and how his dangling feet cast a shadow on the sun-drenched parquet.
The farm sits on a six-hectare plot and is secured with a high electric fence. There’s a retina scanner at the gate. The rear of the house sits directly above a rock face that falls away steeply. Twenty metres below is karst terrain on which only brambles grow. To reach it one has to abseil down with climbing gear.
Up until the sixties, farmers lived in the house. When the old couple died childless, the place stood empty for years. It was colonized by a nudist commune in the seventies, but they abandoned their project when the first hard winter struck. Next the German Alpine Association turned it into a self-catering lodge, but it remained unused for long spells. Eventually the brochure of a shrewd estate agent came into the hands of an Egyptian businessman. The Egyptian had the grandiose idea to open a hotel. After years of bitterly disappointing returns he gave up and the hill farm fell into disuse. In the mid-nineties, the Department snatched it up for a song.
Following the conversion, the house meets the highest security criteria. There are seven rooms. One serves as a common room, two as accommodation for the team, two are for ‘guests’ and one is for the interrogations.
The seventh is under the house.
Lissek had a shaft dug into the rock, twenty metres deep, with a four by four metre cavern at the bottom. The safe room. If the hill farm were to be attacked, the residents could barricade themselves in behind the thick steel door, or leave via a second exit at the foot of the rock face. That would give them a considerable headstart over the enemy. A kilometre further along, they’d be in the forest.
‘What’s the code for the safe room?’ Aaron asks.
‘Three-six-nine-two-four,’ Nickel replies.
‘Have they installed any new gimmicks in the last few years that I don’t know about?’
‘There’s a new microwave.’
‘I’ve heard you can cook.’
‘Spaghetti, macaroni, fusilli and penne.’
‘With sauce?’
‘Am I Jamie Oliver?’
The transporter turns off. Last stretch.
‘Hey, big lad,’ says Nickel. ‘If you’re up for it, we can play a game of cards when we get there. But I have to warn you: the others are real charlatans, you have to watch them like a hawk.’
‘What are charlatans?’
‘They’re not as bad as cheaters, but worse than tricksters.’
‘OK. I know about cheating.’
Aaron counts the seconds until they are at the top.
Luca’s hand is back in hers. ‘Mama explained everything to me,’ he whispers. ‘I can go to a friend of hers, she lives in Italy. Or to one of my uncles.’
‘And is that what you want to do?’
‘The friend visited us once. She sounds like one of those saws you can make music on. She didn’t talk to me. She was always painting her nails and doing fashion shows with Mama.’
‘And the uncles?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve only seen them at Grandma’s funeral. There was a funny smell in the house.’
Aaron feels such an overwhelming affection for Luca that she wants to say: “You can come and live with me, if your mama agrees to it.”
But he beats her to it. ‘I can’t stay with you, because you still have to do something. And then you have to do something else. Don’t be sad. I still like you.’
37
The gate opens. They drive into the garage. Nickel opens the transporter door and a gush of icy air flows towards Aaron.
‘Flemming, take them into the house,’ Fricke instructs. ‘We’ll take a look round the compound. Nickel, check the rock face. Rogge and Mertsch, western section. Kemper and I will take the east side.’
Luca takes Aaron’s hand and leads her. She feels as if she is staggering over the planks of a ship in a force eight gale. She pictures the house, with its wood façade that hides the reinforced concrete; the shingle roof with the shooting slits for submachine guns; the balcony that conceals the arms depot underneath. Close by is the wayside shrine with the Madonna figure. Lissek decided to leave it standing. Aaron knows that a hundred metres ahead there is a small woodland at seven o’clock, and to the right of her is the rock face.
She sinks ankle-deep into the snow.
Her collarbone itches.
She stops. Listens.
‘What’s up?’ asks Flemming.
She tries to figure it out. She can’t quite put her finger on it.
Then she knows: she can’t hear any ravens.
Aaron whistles. Some branches rustle. A bird flies away.
One.
‘Are there any tracks in the snow?’
‘Only ours,’ he says.
‘What does the snow look like?’
‘It’s coming down heavy. If someone had been here half an hour ago, you wouldn’t be able to see it now.’
For seconds Aaron’s body remains motionless while the ship rides mountainous waves. Then she carries on walking.
She holds Luca’s hand tight to reassure him, but it’s as though he is reassuring her.
‘Steps,’ says Flemming.
Slippery stone. Aaron steps onto the veranda. The planks are so stiff that there’s no give in them at all, unlike when she was here that summer. Five blips; Flemming is entering the access code. There’s a buzzing as the electric motor opens the heavy door.
Aaron takes a step inside the hallway with Luca.
Two blips; Flemming is about to close the door.
‘Wait,’ she whispers.
No sound. But a smell, very faint.
Fresh gun oil.
Aaron senses a movement under the stairs to her right. She gives Luca a shove, shouts: ‘Run!’ and dives headlong towards the shadow, without asking herself how fast she is in this condition. She pulls the man down and twists her body as she falls. Shots ring out. When her opponent hits the floor she already has the Glock in her hand. Aaron shoots into the man’s yell. The air around her is a whirl of flying bullets. She smells blood.
‘Flemming!’ she bellows.
He doesn’t reply; acrid gun smoke stings her lungs.
Someone grabs her from behind.
Aaron drops the gun and makes herself light. The man heaves her up and lays his lower arm around her neck. Her hands shoot behind her head. She interlocks them on the nape of the man’s neck and hangs herself onto him. Aaron swings her legs and yanks him forwards, causing him to somersault over her and crash onto his back. She stabs her finger into one eye, feels it burst, bounces into a crouching position and, using her knee, drops her full weight onto her opponent’s larynx.
While he suffocates miserably, Aaron drifts to the earth’s core in a stream of magma. It feels as if she is dissolving, burning up.
She’s back on her feet. Inexplicably, she’s back.
It is quiet in the hallway, but outside shots are slicing the air.
Suddenly she feels Luca’s hand in hers.
Pure fear grips her.
Why didn’t he run away?
‘How many do you see?’ she forces out.
He doesn’t reply.
Many.
The light reaches her as though it was travelling through the aperture of a camera lens that is steadily decreasing in diameter. It turns into a tunnel, an ever tighter tube, and then it is pitch black. No, more than that; it’s not even black. It is absolute nothingness.
