The door virtually burst from its hinges as a number of suited men, each with an arm crossed over their chests preparing to brandish shoulder weapons, brushed the protesting Edith aside and surveyed the vast space before them.
“Where is he?” demanded the leader of the pack.
Gratia peered up into his face with disdain and then looked across to the frightened face of her secretary.
“Edith, I thought you said there were no appointments left in the diary for this afternoon.”
“Don’t get smart lady,” barked the deep voice. “Just tell us where he is.”
Angered by her silence the man’s aggression was about to become more sinister when the sudden arrival of a tall, elegant woman striding imperiously into the room interrupted them, followed by an older grey-haired man.
“This is somewhat unexpected,” said Gratia. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“It is in your interests to co-operate,” said the first of the new arrivals.
“Co-operate with whom exactly and on what?”
“You have seen the news.”
“Actually, no,” she said. “I was about to switch the screen on when these men forced themselves into my office.”
“Don’t lie,” said the deep voice. “We’ve been listening and heard everything.”
“Obstruction of the law is a serious criminal offence,” said the woman. “Imprisonment is often the result.”
Gratia turned to look out over the Munich skyline and took a deep sigh.
“He is gone.”
“Impossible,” barked the man. “Every exit is covered.”
Gratia pointed to a white door in the recess opposite to the one holding the screen and cabinet.
“My personal elevator,” she said.
Ordered by a sharp glance the nearest of the armed men strode across the floor and bent down.
“There’s a blood trail,” he said.
“You bitch,” snapped the deep voice.
The crackle of a radio transmission filled the room and one of the armed men pressed it against his ear to listen intently to the message.
“Footage from their security room shows a man matching his build driving from the underground car park in her vehicle a few moments ago.”
“Harbouring terrorists carries an even greater sentence,” said the woman.
“I had little choice,” answered Gratia.
The pack leader spat out hasty instructions resulting in the remainder of his team followed him from the room.
“What did he say to you?” asked the grey-haired man. “He whispered something before he left. Tell me what it was he said to you?”
Gratia glanced to the window. On returning her gaze she looked at each of the remaining intruders in turn, her eyes glazed and moist.
“He said he had found a place to die.”
“Which place, where is it?”
Gratia swallowed hard before answering.
“All he would say is it is a place where you would never find his body.”
“Maria!” yelled the man in frustration. “I told them to place men in and around her property. We have to find him before he goes to ground. He must not be allowed to disappear without trace.”
The woman fixed a penetrating stare on Gratia, her green eyes quizzical and unconvinced. It was as if she were trying to see through the mask of disconsolation.
“Matt would never concede defeat so easily.”
“On the contrary, should Matt succeed in concealing his body then he will have won,” said Gratia.
The woman’s eyes narrowed with intrigue.
“Why doesn’t he want us to find his body?”
“Would you want your body prodded and sliced after you were dead?”
“What is she talking about, Marius?”
“You are Marius?” questioned Gratia.
“What is she talking about?”
“You clearly weren’t paying attention, Catherine. All the while Matt was supposed to recovering at Maria’s, secret tests were being conducted. It appears Matt’s body might hold the key to the development of a new antidote, one without any side effects.”
“Is this true?”
The longer the question hung in the air the darker her mood turned. The pack leader returned.
“We’ve got a positive ID. He’s heading south.”
“St Wolfgang,” declared Catherine. “He is trying to reach St Wolfgang.”
Once the armed man had hurried away Catherine returned her withering glare to Marius.
“We shall talk in the car.”
“Matt said one other thing,” said Gratia softly.
“Which was?”
“That he was grateful never to have been a parent. For any child known to be from his seed would be vulnerable, sought after such as he to become no more than a laboratory resource subject to a miserable life of experimentation. Prodded, sliced and dissected, all in the name of science.”
“Why did he tell you this?” asked Catherine.
“You wanted to know what he said. And I told you.”
Her glance caught the flicker of Catherine’s eyes, unseen by her accomplice. Realising the unintended motion had been observed she strode from the room.
Gratia answered the bleep of the intercom in an instant.
“They are gone,” said Edith. “The rental car requested is waiting below.”
“Come and help,” ordered Gratia, shooting from the chair to the television cabinet.
Edith arrived as Matt painfully slid from his hiding place and saw Gratia’s finger pressed against her lips. Once he’d clambered free Edith also wrapped a supporting arm around his waist and they eased him towards the waiting elevator.
“Where’s the stuff?” he asked, once the door had closed.
“In the vehicle,” answered Edith.
“Did you manage to get everything?”
“Edith has no equal,” said Gratia.
He nodded.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said, noticing the smudge of his blood on Edith’s pristine blouse.
“I have a spare in the closet behind my desk for just such an occasion,” she answered with a smile.
“Jesus,” he said with a sigh.
“What is it?”
“It’s about time the men of this world allowed the women to do all the organising.”
“Finally, he agrees,” said Gratia, much to her assistant’s amusement.
Edith pointed to the distant black 4x4 once the elevator door reopened. Replete with privacy windows, the vehicle had the stature of a top of the range model.
“They told me the keys have been placed in the sun visor,” said Edith.
“Wait here,” said Gratia. “I’ll bring it over.”
Matt sensed the young woman’s body tense as they waited for the car to arrive and he put this down to the precariousness of their situation.
“Gratia thinks a lot of you,” he said. “And I can see why. You’d be a huge asset to any employer.”
She turned her head as though she had seen something interesting in the distance and he wondered which part of the compliment sounded offensive.
“Are you okay?”
“The vehicle is coming,” she said, looking at her shoes.
“I think you’re very talented, too.”
She looked away again and then gazed at his face through misted, moistened eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry, whatever for?”
The vehicle pulled up alongside and Edith gently removed her supportive hold as the rear passenger privacy window silently descended.
“Here’s the deal. You get in and we let her out,” said the familiar face of the diminutive CIA agent with the weapon pointed at her captive.
The equally silent descent of the front passenger window revealed Gratia’s forlorn, defeated expression.
“Why?” he asked, turning to Edith.
“My father is in trouble and …”
br />
“Vogel,” said Matt. “She found out about the problem and offered to help.”
“Yes.”
“Hey, Durham, we’re on a schedule. Get your ass in,” said a second voice he recognised as Stone’s.
“I’m guessing you’re under orders not to injure me. So, much as I appreciate the offer, I have to politely decline.”
“Okay,” said Baresi. “We’ll hurt her instead.”
He glanced anxiously to Gratia then shot a dark stare at his would-be captor.
“I really am starting to dislike you.”
“Don’t, Matt. Don’t get in.”
With the answer already written on his face he opened the front passenger door.
“It’s okay. They have to mend this body before they can do anything else to me.”
“No,” she pleaded.
His right arm stretched to her hand and gently tugged in encouragement.
“You were right. I should have turned myself in to the local police.”
She fell into his embrace, circling her arms around him in a vice-like grip. Matt brushed at Gratia’s hair and whispered as he softly kissed the top of her head and his hand discreetly slid down the luxurious fine material of the tailored jacket before hovering above the open flap of the side pocket.
“Very touching,” said the female agent. “Put her down and get in.”
“You’ll hear from me soon,” he said.
Jerking her head back she looked questioningly into his eyes and he smiled. Matt stumbled as he attempted the climb into the rear of the vehicle and Gratia noticed his hand press against the underside of the front seat.
“Quit stalling,” barked Baresi.
“I’m trying goddamnit,” he snapped.
Matt dragged himself into the seat and turned to offer another smile as the window rose and the handcuffs went on, imprisoning him within the departing 4x4. The two women watched it leave filled with their individual emotions. For one it was guilt. For the other it was intense concentration trying to figure out the coded message Matt had tried to relay.
“Gratia, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Never mind that, give me your mobile.”
“Phone, why?”
“Just do it. There isn’t much time.”
Sunlight replaced the artificial light of the underground car park and he instinctively blinked.
“Why now, why not take me off the plane? Oh, of course,” he said almost as quickly. “You needed me out of reach for a few days, so my movements couldn’t be traced, couldn’t be accounted for.”
“Hey I’m impressed,” said Stone. “You’re finally starting to get a handle on this, Durham.”
“And I guess this convoluted method means you can spirit me away from the public eye.”
“Right again. You are getting better at this.”
“Not much of a consolation,” said Matt.
The big American bellowed and Matt glanced to his more studious partner. If she found the exchange in any way light-hearted she wasn’t showing it.
“Isn’t that the Isartor City Gate?” said Matt. “Did you know it was built in the fourteenth century and is the most historic of all the city gates in Munich?”
“Put a lid on it, Durham,” said Baresi. “There’s a long way to go and I don’t want a running commentary about historical landmarks of Germany.”
Matt looked for the road direction signs as they continued to make slow progress through the heavy traffic. Finally, he saw one.
“Now that’s surprising, we’re heading west along the A99 and I thought we’d be going the other way.”
With the remark met by a stony silence he decided to try a different tack.
“Do you know why you’re doing this?”
“We don’t ask,” said Stone. “It’s a personal attribute you might want to take on board.”
“Aren’t you even a little curious?”
“No.”
Silence returned, the vehicle weaving between lanes to try and increase their pace.
“Which one of you took out Helen Nash,” asked Matt “It certainly wasn’t a debt collector.”
Not a murmur. The next signpost suggested Augsburg as a possible destination, Stuttgart beyond if they kept on the same path. And then where?
“Now the E52, I have to confess to being more than a little intrigued as to where we’re going. If anything we’re headed deeper into Germany. Strange, given you’re trying to bundle me out of the country inconspicuously.”
“Shut it, Durham,” said Baresi.
He racked his brains for a possible destination. Wherever it was the exit had to be off the radar, somewhere secluded and discreet. Beyond Stuttgart, Karlsruhe, then up to Mannheim? If they kept going west the road could take them to France, or Luxembourg. No, it had to be in Germany. What was beyond Mannheim? Frankfurt came to mind.
“How do you expect to get me through border controls?” he said. “It’s not as if I’m a complete unknown to the world now and someone is sure to spot me.”
Stone’s eyes glanced through the mirror and Matt saw the knowing grin. They weren’t heading for a civilian airport that much was certain. And it would have to be reasonably close. To spend too long in the open, despite the clandestine nature of their journey, risked being discovered. While he kept this in the back of his mind he decided to have another go at filling in some of the gaps.
“You know it took me a while to work out why you needed a thief to do your dirty work,” he said.
More silence. Unperturbed he pressed on.
“It was the fact three users had to agree before anything could be downloaded that swung it for me. Your boss couldn’t get hands on the content unless the others agreed so he had to steal it. The question is why. I mean, he could have arranged for the others to be blown out of the sky anytime but it didn’t happen. That’s when the answer came to me. He wanted to go it alone, without giving himself away to the others. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“If you don’t shut your mouth Durham I’ll damn well shut it for you,” said Baresi.
Matt looked out of the window and returned to the pressing problem of their possible destination. Somewhere discreet, within a three hour radius of Munich to be on the safe side, where could it be?
“Darmstadt,” he said. “The A99 followed by the E52 and the A8. It has to be Darmstadt.”
“I said shut it, Durham.”
“By coincidence someone told me about the place only the other day. There’s a private airfield there that is also home to an American flying club, a legacy of the US Air Force base that used to be stationed there.”
No sooner had he spoken then Stone’s eyes widened.
“Lights, coming up behind us,” he said. “And there are a lot of them.”
She twisted around to look out of the rear window.
“Might not be for us,” said Stone.
“Shit!” said Baresi.
“What?”
“He’s been transmitting, giving them directions.”
Stone’s perplexed expression loomed into view through the rear view mirror.
“Impossible.”
“Face the window, Durham, hands against the glass,” spat Baresi.
“Remember, you have instructions not to hurt me,” said Matt.
A goliath black fist thrashed to his wound and he reeled back at the impact.
“Jesus, I thought you said you were the good guys.”
“We are. We do what we’re told. Now, do as you’re told you son of a bitch,” demanded Stone.
Palms pressed to the glass, the barrel of a gun jammed to his head as Baresi’s other hand patted his torso and then moved to his legs.
“Lean back,” she hissed.
A hand slid into each of his front pockets and then the one at the rear of his trousers.
“Find anything?”
“No,” she snapped.
“Looks like you might have got this one wrong, Connie,” said Matt.
The cold butt of her weapon crashed against his head and he slumped sideways in a temporary daze.
“I won’t tell you again.”
Now she was into his shoes, checking both the heels and the lining before irritably discarding each in turn into the front passenger seat. She cursed with frustration.
“Where is it?”
“It could be I don’t happen to be bugged,” he managed to say, mind gradually recovering from the blow.
“Unbuckle your belt and lower the zip.”
“Going through a bit of a drought, Connie?”
Humour, he concluded, was not one of her strong points as she probed and prodded, concluding with a tight squeeze of his testicles out of sheer spite.
“Satisfied?” said Matt, struggling to reassemble his attire after she’d given up the search.
“They’re getting closer,” said Stone.
Baresi’s mind continued to work through the possibilities and the Eureka moment arrived sooner than he would have preferred. Her right hand urgently smoothed under the bottom of the front passenger seat, recoiling the instant she dislodged the electronic device.
“Yeah, it’s us,” she said.
“What do we do?”
“Tricky,” said Matt. “I’m guessing you’re not supposed to be here which is going to be a little difficult to explain to them never mind your own guys.”
“You asshole, Durham,” yelled Stone. “You’ve as good as signed your own death warrant.”
“Germany is a democratic country. I’d get a fair hearing in this neck of the woods.”
“Dream on. They’re going to tear you apart. Some of the units on the mountain were German, so they’re not coming to shake your hand.”
“They still have to take me into custody which means I’ll be out of your hands.”
“Yeah, right,” said Stone. “Except they have no reason to keep you alive,” he added.
Baresi lowered her window and tossed out the device then reached into an inside pocket for her radio.
“We’re blown,” she said, “And they know Darmstadt is the evac point.”
She responded to the request for their current position and the returning instructions were succinct.
“Next turning,” she said to her partner.
“Evac two?” suggested Stone.
“Yes.”
Matt peered over the driver’s seat to see Stone punching in revised coordinates into the navigation system, too quickly to identify the new destination. Not that it mattered. He’d lost the means to communicate to the outside world. More in hope than expectation he craned his neck to look behind and could see nothing, not even the merest hint of a blue light flashing faintly in the distance. He turned back. The single carriageway road stretched out for miles with no other vehicle anywhere in sight. The grassy verge to either side preceded shallow ditches of mud, a consequence of recent heavy rainfall, and he noticed the absence of protective barriers.
“They’re gone,” said Stone.
“Nice try, Durham,” said Baresi.
“I’m sure there are worse things that could happen to a man in life,” said Matt. “Except …”
“Except what?” asked Baresi.
“Considering all the options I think I’d be better off taking my chances with them than you.”
He launched a foot at her wrist to knock the weapon free and tried to crash his right shoulder into her chest. Her agility surprised him as she slid away from the back rest and he only managed to clip her shoulder. Baresi cursed as she brought her right hand against his neck in a chopping motion and then she stretched her hand down to try and retrieve the weapon from the floor well.
“What’s happening?” said Stone urgently.
Matt pushed out his bound wrists in the shape of a cross to try and divert the barrel from pointing towards him. It worked to the extent of causing the missile to shoot away, straight into the back of Stone’s massive neck. The struggling pair halted and gaped in horror at the blood now gushing from the open wound. And then the vehicle swerved before careering over the grass verge.
Consciousness came and went. He hazily remembered the vehicle spinning and rolling, each heavy thud signalling an impact with sodden earth in the nearby field. Strong hands took a hold of his legs and dragged his battered body through the broken window, side or rear he couldn’t be sure. Stone’s dead eyes passed by followed by Baresi’s deathly stare, the ugly crook of her broken neck providing explanation of what had happened to her. So whose hands pulled him free from the wreckage? The intermittent flash of a dark blue light reflected against twisted metal offered a clue.
“Das ist Durham,” said the first voice.
“Schießen sie das schwein,” said a second.
It wasn’t too uncommon for Gratia to slip into her native tongue from time to time back home, and he’d picked up more and more understanding of the language as time went by. The first phrase was straightforward, that is Durham. The second proved harder to translate in his semi-conscious state. And then it came to him.
Shoot the pig.
Chapter Forty One
Father’s Note