The IRIS Algorithm, page 27
Simone arched her left eyebrow, started to rise to the taunt, thought better of it, took the weapon, and put it and the clip in her backpack.
“Take the battery out of your cell phone,” Logan said. “Give me your satellite phone.”
“Why? Are you afraid I’ll go over my minutes?” Logan didn’t rise to the bait.
“Cell phones can be tracked, even when they’re turned off.”
Simone took out the battery, handed him the other phone, and put her laptop in her backpack.
A normal person would be afraid, but then, Simone had never been accused of being normal. Like a paratrooper about to hook up, she cinched the backpack onto her shoulders, a mother about to destroy anyone who stood between her and her son. Despite what he told her about leaving, he was glad she didn’t.
Minutes later, they stood at the corner of Zweibruckenstrasse and Liebherrstrasse, a block away from the River Isar. AEM’s European headquarters loomed across the street, stark and impenetrable. Logan tossed the two satellite phones into the back of produce truck waiting at a traffic light. When he didn’t hear back from Simone, Stafford would inform the authorities to track that signal.
The plan was brutal and simple—his favorite kind when things were desperate. Günter said AEM owned the entire top floor of the six-story apartment building across the street from their offices on Zweibruckenstrasse. The apartment building’s garage and lobby had efficient looking attendants; some were likely AEM security and armed. The building adjoined other apartment buildings, creating a common interior courtyard. Günter used his connections, along with six-month’s advance rent, to secure an apartment in one of the other buildings. Logan and Simone would use that apartment to gain access to the courtyard.
Logan used the information from Günter’s reconnoiter of the inner courtyard to devise the plan. Once inside, he would take the courtyard staircase of AEM’s apartment building to the sixth floor. That’s where things would get ugly. Two large men dressed in black guarded the external stairway. Presumably, other guards were stationed throughout the floor inside. Logan would use the element of surprise to take out the first two, then react to what he found on the other side of the door.
At precisely eleven minutes past four, Günter and company would subdue the attendants in the parking garage, creating a route of escape. Logan would find Samuel and use the express elevator to the garage or the stairs if necessary. Simone would wait in the courtyard until 4:08 p.m. then make her way to the garage to receive Samuel. When yet another unknown man with a gun snatched him, Samuel would probably be traumatized. A van stood ready to take the entire group to a safe house less than a mile away.
“Simone, come over here.” Logan slid into a nook between two buildings, a step off the sidewalk scattered with ambling pedestrians enjoying the afternoon sun. He reached into his satchel and took out a couple of thin wire loops. “Put this over your head and tuck it under your shirt.”
“What is it?” She put the thin wire loop over her head, dropped the dangling end with the matchbox-sized attachment down her shirt. “Some kind of electronic dog tag?”
“No. It’s an inductive transmitter-receiver. Put this in your ear.” He held out an object that looked like a minute hearing aid. “It goes all the way into your ear canal.” Logan put his own loop around his neck, tucked it out of sight, and inserted his earpiece.
“Okay, that feels strange,” Simone said. “I hope I can get it out when this is over. I don’t hear anything.”
“Use this PTT button if you have to communicate.” He handed her a small black fob that looked like it might unlock the nearest BMW. He took out his own black fob and pressed the button. “PTT means push to talk.”
Simone flinched. “Whoa. Yes, I hear you now, like you are standing right next to me. Of course, you are standing right next to me, but I think you would sound like….” She creased her forehead and cut her eyes to the right, as if trying to see where the sound was coming from. He ignored her. He loved her so.
“Günter, we’re on line,” Logan said quietly.
“Ya. Reading you,” Günter replied, his voice crystal clear. “Fagon and the Skeffington woman left the apartment… forty-seven minutes ago. They went to AEM offices across the street. No sign of them since. Everything is quiet.”
“Okay. Start the clock.” He slipped the PTT fob into the watch pocket of his jeans. It wasn’t the best place for it, but it was important not to have any of the com equipment showing. AEM security would definitely recognize it. He looked at Simone and tried to think of something to say that would at least keep her in relative safety outside on the street. She read his look.
“Do not even think about it, big man.” She checked her PTT fob to make sure she was not accidentally talking to Günter. “Unless you are planning to shoot me right here, right now, I am going in there. I am not as delicate as you think.”
It was probably the tension, but Simone’s statement made him smile. “Delicate. There’s a word that doesn’t come to mind when I think of you.”
“What? I can be delicate. You think I am not delicate, ergo not tender and feminine…”
“No, I—”
“—and therefore complicated, harsh and ultimately unsexy? And another thing—”
Logan held his palm in front of her face, a thin smile on his lips. “When I told Günter to start the clock, it wasn’t a figure of speech. He literally started a stopwatch. We need to finish this later.”
“You know that is right. We are so going to finish this later.” Simone cinched down the straps of her backpack one more time and stomped her right foot for good measure.
He led the way with just an ounce of hope there would actually be a later to argue about anything. Anything at all would be fine.
CHAPTER 63
The first floor apartment Günter rented had front door access to the street and back door access to the courtyard. In the brief time it took to walk through the bare apartment, Logan imagined happier possibilities for such a place. A contented family could live in it, a peaceful place, rather than a one-way conduit to violence and death.
Logan stopped on the cobblestone path that traversed the inner courtyard. Simone, following too close, stumbled into his back. “That was smooth,” she said.
He ignored her, surveying the manicured landscaping—geometric gardens of green shrubs and white flowers, a large central fountain featuring a scantily clad woman sidesaddle on a mythical beast. He had no interest in the tranquil beauty of the courtyard or the coarse German idea of art. He looked for cover if needed and alternate exits. He imagined running for his life, carrying a frightened boy while bullets whizzed by his head. His pathetically flawed rescue plan was their only hope. Somehow, he would get Simone and Samuel out of here alive.
Satisfied with his mental survey, he turned casually toward Simone with a touristy smile planted on his face. He took her hands. “Kiss me.”
“Uh, okay. But you said the stopwatch was running.”
“Smile,” he leaned in and gave her a polite kiss on the lips. “You never know who’s watching. We’re just another happy couple looking for our friend’s apartment. We just moved in and are so darn turned around.”
Simone nodded, finally understanding he was in mission mode where every movement had a purpose. Her lips smiled but her eyes were filled with fear and sadness, things unspoken.
“Go look at the fountain.” He squeezed her hands. “I’m heading up those stairs to see if that’s our friend’s apartment.”
“Logan I—”
“Watch the time.” He released her hands and walked across the courtyard.
***
Sitting on the hard wrought iron chair beside a wrought iron table, I pretended to be interested in the garish fountain. The husky stone woman rode what looked like an angry cow with four ears. Everything in Germany was hard, angular, and large. Discreetly looking around the courtyard, I kept an eye on Logan’s progress. Two tables away, a young couple, absorbed in themselves, drank coffee and chatted quietly. Sitting on a stone bench beneath a well-disciplined beech tree, an overdressed, elderly gentleman read a newspaper. Efficiently shorn, the tree’s limbs obediently provided symmetrical shade from the afternoon sun.
I knew not to watch Logan, but that was my husband, climbing the black iron staircase to face two large guards on the sixth floor. My husband. The love of my life. The father of my son. The man I trusted. A man I barely knew.
I stared into the shallow pool of the fountain. Air escaped my lungs in a long tired sigh. I had been holding my breath again. This really was an idiotic plan. I closed my eyes and spoke to God.
I do not know what I did to make you hate me so much. I understand why you told me never to reveal the secret. I understand this whole mess is mostly my fault. But you should own a little of it for showing me things no child should know. Just saying. I accept the fact that I will, as you said, surely die because of what I did. I do not really care about that anymore. The world will be better off without me, but Samuel and Logan do not have to die. Not now. Not like this.
I kept my eyes closed for good measure and waited for a response. Nothing but the familiar ringing in my ears that always seems louder when I closed my eyes.
God, are you listening? We could really use some help right about now. I am going to open my eyes and expect a miracle. At least a sign.
I opened my eyes. A woman stood next to me. “Guten tag, Simone. We’ve been expecting you.”
She had the clearest blue eyes and was younger than before. There was no yapping schnauzer on a leash. Two men dressed in all black and built like rottweilers were with her. She looked friendlier as an old woman.
I asked for a sign. I got this. God hated me.
***
Logan forced himself not to look toward the fountain at every switchback of the iron stairs. He had to focus on the mission. He’d seen enough death to know how to die right. Despite what he might deserve for his multitude of shortcomings and his merciless acts of justice, he must not die yet. His son and frustratingly peculiar wife needed this stupid-ass plan to work. For that, he had to be alive.
With one flight of stairs left, he gave into his ache and glanced toward the fountain. Simone was gone. He might have known. She never was good at following any plan except her own, no matter how simple. He shook off his frustration and put on his best Biff-the-airhead-American face. He stomped up the last flight of stairs in a Biff kind of way without an ounce of stealth. He visualized the move on the way up and knew the Biff routine would work on the first two guards. People were so used to seeing stupid, it didn’t seem suspicious, but a hint of professionalism did.
As soon as he was high enough to see the guards, already on alert from the noise, he smiled big and waved.
“Hey! Good afternoon. Or I guess gootin’ tag for you guys,” Logan drawled. “I am so dang lost. I’m looking for…”
On the last step, he tripped and fell forward with a pratfall that would make the Three Stooges proud. The guards were obviously surprised. Their hesitation was all the time he needed.
***
My legs walked though my feet barely touched the ground. The burly goons on either side of me held my arms with contorted iron grips. From a distance, it probably looked like a helpful escort. The kind of friendly help an important drunk might get. It was anything but friendly. Any move I made, other than exactly what they wanted, brought excruciating pain. If I survived, I wanted to learn how they did it.
The cute couple and the overdressed old man quietly nodded as I was whisked away from the fountain. Seems as if everyone was in on the joke but Logan and I. Oh, God, I should have pressed the PTT button in my pocket. I should have screamed. It all happened so fast, not like the movies. A couple of quick turns down a narrow hallway, my feet trying to find the ground, then into a waiting service elevator with two additional Deutschland specials in black. The ugly fountain art made more sense: hard, angular, and large.
I was not surprised when the blue-eyed lady pressed six. Logan and I were going to the same place.
***
In one fluid motion, Logan rolled to the left and pulled out the silenced P226 with his right hand. He came up on one knee, a two handed grip on the pistol, and squeezed off two quick shots. His pratfall closed the distance to target to five feet. Placing a 9 mm hollow point at the base of the neck one inch above the body armor was easy and deadly. Eyes wide, spines shattered, the two guards dropped. To avoid being seen, Logan moved quickly to the side of the door. Hearing the double thud, someone would look through the door’s peephole. Everything on the other side of the door was an unknown. He hoped the perceived risk of someone assaulting the apartment complex in broad daylight was so remote; AEM security on the other side of the door was mostly post standers, not hardened entry points with sophisticated technical systems. A plan was bad when it depended on hoping the other side was dumber than you were.
He slowly pressed down on the metal door handle. Locked. Staying underneath the sightline of the peephole, he eased over and unclipped the keychain hanging from the belt of one of the lumps sprawled on the landing. A couple of the keys looked like they might fit the industrial strength lock. The first one didn’t. The second one did.
He turned the key slowly, making as little noise as possible. As the tumbler passed the halfway mark, it suddenly turned over with a loud clack. So much for being quiet. Someone on the other side definitely heard that. He burst through the door expecting the worst.
The lady looked stern but not surprised. She definitely didn’t look worried that a man stood in front of her with a gun pointed at the middle of her forehead. Most people object to that sort of thing on general principle. Her blue eyes calmly stared back. Clearly unimpressed, she looked around him at the two bodies on the landing.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Ranes. Please come with me.”
Logan glanced to his left and right, then down the hall. There was no one else in sight. She didn’t appear to be armed. No way in hell was he going anywhere with this cold-hearted bitch. The glint in her eyes was almost a smile.
“Please come with me now, Mr. Ranes. Simone is waiting for you.”
It was a bad plan from the beginning.
CHAPTER 64
Alarmed by her confidence, Logan followed the carpeted hallway a few steps behind the woman. A warm glow of incandescent light filtered from opaque wall sconces lining the way, modern torches leading to a bad ending in the catacombs. The woman gave him the creeps for a host of reasons, but the precise way she placed one foot in front of the other, walking a perfectly straight line, was one of them. If she was counting her steps, she and Simone might hit it off.
A normal woman was not comfortable with an armed man walking behind her. He scanned the walls and ceiling for signs of video surveillance. The protruding black hemisphere of a ceiling mounted video camera was just ahead, another further down the hall, and obviously one near the door he unlocked. A couple of doors interrupted the smooth forest green walls. Probably separate apartments for the help. The hallway smelled of new paint. Oversized, polished mahogany, double doors filled the wall at the end of the corridor. The two-headed eagle carved in relief over the doors didn’t exactly say welcome. Why was this woman so sure he wouldn’t shoot her in the back of the head and make a break for it?
Simple. She had his wife and son.
The gun in his right hand remained at his side. He eased his left hand into his pocket, pressing the PTT fob three times and placing the tiny inductive transmitter in open mic mode. Günther would be able to hear what happened. What he could do about it was anybody’s guess.
The woman stopped to the right of the ornate doors and turned toward him. She stood there, her unnaturally blue eyes staring into his. A minute of mutual condescension passed between them.
“What now? Am I supposed to kiss you good night?”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Ranes.”
With a soft buzz, the thick doors swung outward, industrial grade, pneumatic mechanisms atop each. No door handles on either side. Someone was watching and controlling the doors. If he had to exit this way, that would be a real problem.
“Nice doors,” Logan said. “Expecting problems with the neighbors?” It was a signal to Günther that things had gone awry.
“After you, Mr. Ranes.” The German accent on her precise English made her arrogance more insulting. “You may leave your weapon with the gentleman inside.”
“I think I’ll give it to you. Right now.” He stepped in close, nearly touching, close enough to smell her blood red lipstick. She appeared to like it, which was not the desired outcome. Creepy bitch. She was maybe five-ten with the heels, but he still had four inches on her and a lot more mileage. Without the old woman makeup, she looked to be mid-thirties.
“As you wish, Mr. Ranes.” Unblinking, she stared directly into his eyes, devouring him with her blue gaze. He slowly raised the gun between them, the elongated suppressor brushing against her. She blinked. She took the gun.
“Take good care of it.” He disengaged and walked quickly through the double doors. “I’ll need it later.” Finally, someone else made a mistake. She didn’t check him for a transmitter. He still had spare clips. He had a very sharp KA-BAR Necker strapped to the inside of his left leg.
“Sounds like we’re off the plan.” Günther whispered. “Cough once for immediate assault, twice for standby.”
Logan coughed twice softly. A frontal assault would be suicide. He had to wait and hope for an opportunity. No, he had to create an opportunity.
The double doors opened into a holding area. She left him with four, serious looking men in dark designer threads. A large, mirrored wall to Logan’s right probably concealed armed observers controlling the doors. Another set of large, double doors loomed in front of him. A subtle hiss and final clack as the double doors behind him locked in place.
He expected to be thoroughly searched without regard for his aversion to men with latex gloves. However, the second set of doors opened, and two of the serious men led the way. The other two took positions behind him. No one spoke, which made it impossible to communicate with Günter. Headed into the lion’s den he remembered the single most important lesson of his training—never quit.
