What happened to the beer bottles?
39
South of Kwidzyn (formerly Marienwerder), Poland
“We’re looking for two large trucks.”
Officer Jelen gave the tech a look. “No shit. I think we’re going to need more than that.”
A flurry of technical data, including number of axles, tires, tire types, estimated vehicle length, width, and more, was spat at him as if to make a point. Then a tablet was shoved in front of his face, showing a Mercedes transport truck.
“We’re looking for two of these.”
Inspector Zabek had a slight smile. “You’re sure?”
“Well, there’s some guesswork involved, but I’m fairly confident.”
“And the other vehicles?”
“Three SUVs, but we’re not sure the type. They seem to be much heavier than an SUV should be.”
Zabek’s eyes narrowed. “Could they have loaded some of the cargo in them?”
“I doubt it. The crates the witnesses described were pretty big. And this was pretty evenly distributed.”
“What does your guesswork tell you?”
The tech hesitated. “Well, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say they’ve been modified.”
“In what way?”
“Armored in some way.”
Zabek cursed. “Which means they’re expecting trouble, and ready for it.”
Jelen took a more cooperative tact. “So, is there anything else you can tell us about the SUVs?”
“Nothing except that they’re all probably identical.”
Zabek frowned. “That’s not going to really help us much unless they stay together, which I doubt.”
The tech shrugged. “Sorry, that’s the best we can do. We’ll take all the data back to the lab and continue working on it.”
“Okay, let’s start pulling footage, see if we get lucky.”
“Sir!” One of Jelen’s fellow officers rushed over, unsure of who to address. Jelen motioned toward Zabek. “Sir, I just spoke to a farmer down the road. He said he saw two large trucks leaving here this morning. Beer trucks.”
Zabek’s eyes narrowed. “Beer?”
“Yes.”
Zabek looked at the tech. “That doesn’t really match what we’re looking for, does it?”
The tech shook his head. “No, not really. I’m quite confident we’re looking for curtain side transport trucks, not local beer delivery trucks. We’re talking long distance, heavy loads.”
Jelen tapped his chin. “Maybe the witness was confused.”
Zabek turned toward him. “Explain.”
“Maybe they just had beer company advertising on the sides.”
Zabek nodded. “That would explain it.” He pointed at the cop. “Go find out if that’s what he meant.”
“Yes, sir!”
“And get a notice out that we’re looking for two curtain side trucks with possible beer logos on the sides.”
40
Inselhotel Potsdam
Potsdam, Germany
Mai Trinh stared dreamily at Tommy as he hammered away at the keyboard. She had never told anyone that she loved them before, and had certainly never had anyone tell her the same. This was what it felt like to be a woman. She was in love, and her entire life had changed in an instant with a few simple words.
She just wished she could share the news with her family.
She was still in contact with them through social media, though she had to be careful about what she said. She wasn’t worried that the Vietnamese government might target her in America where she now called home—they weren’t China. Vietnam was a poor country, probably happy to have their “dissidents” outside of their borders, as long as they kept quiet.
Which she did.
Her concerns were entirely centered on her family, especially her father. Her mother was dead, and her brother was a petty criminal, making his problems his own.
But her father was innocent.
Their messages were passed through friends, computers never something he had shown any interest or aptitude in, though she was hoping he’d someday embrace a smartphone so they could at least text.
One day.
Her eyes glistened with the knowledge that she would probably never see him again, and he would never get to meet his son-in-law should they get married.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Married!
She smiled at Tommy as her heart raced with the idea. She had daydreamed of the possibility, of course. What woman didn’t? But to actually face the prospect, was an entirely different thing. Two years ago, she never would have dreamed she’d be dating, let alone contemplating marrying a white guy, yet here she was, lying in bed with him, neither with a stitch of clothing on, working to save the two people who had brought them together.
She sighed.
“You okay?”
Her smile broadened. “Perfect.”
Tommy paused, staring into her eyes for a moment. “I love you.”
Her stomach flipped. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that.”
He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss, then gestured at the laptop. “I think I’ve got it.”
“What?”
He pointed at a red blip on a map. “A cellphone entered the area just before the jammer was activated, and now it’s a couple of hundred miles south. All of the other signals that were present before this new signal arrived, are either still there, or off.”
“So you know where the bad guys are?”
Tommy grinned. “Yup!”
“We need to tell someone.”
“Didn’t Dean Milton say that Agent Reading was now involved?”
“Yes! Can we call him?”
“I don’t have his number.”
Mai grabbed the phone. “I’ll call the dean. He’ll have it.”
41
Route A1, Poland
“Sir, our monitors are showing your cellphone has been compromised.”
Alexie Tankov cursed at the message received through his comm as he retrieved his cellphone from his jacket pocket. He removed the SIM card and hit the button to lower the window. He snapped the phone over the car door, then tossed the device onto the road, eliciting a few honked horns, soon silenced as the window closed.
“By who?”
“Unknown, sir. We just know it’s been pinged several times, unauthorized. Probably CIA or another state’s equivalent.”
Tankov frowned. “Then that means they’ll be able to backtrack us on camera. If they’ve got my phone, then they might have others. Everyone, scrap your phones and switch to backups. Team Two, find us two new matches.”
“Roger that.”
His driver, Arseny Utkin, handed him his phone and Tankov repeated the process, disposing of the device before pulling two new phones from the glove compartment. They had been shut off since they were configured at the start of the mission, so there was no way they could have been compromised.
Someone must have figured out his phone had been at the mine. They were clever, though it was a possibility they had planned for. The order had been that all phones were to be turned off ten minutes before reaching the mine, but he had turned his on to test the jammer.
A jammer that hadn’t been powered up properly.
He belted Utkin on the shoulder.
“Hey, what was that for?” he protested as their vehicle swerved slightly.
“For messing up the jammer.”
Utkin frowned. “Yeah, that one’s on me.”
“Damn right it is.”
The screw up had meant his phone was on the cellular network for several seconds.
Apparently, enough for somebody to figure out it shouldn’t have been there.
Very clever.
“I need another pee break.”
“Hold it.”
“I’m serious. Your guy was watching me last time like he was interested in making Jim, Jr.’s acquaintance. I’ve got a shy bladder.”
He had to go as well.
42
Somewhere over Europe
Agent Hugh Reading had raided the proverbial kitty, and was feeling guilty about it as he usually did, despite the fact the only reason he was on this luxury Gulf V was that his friends who were paying for it were missing, and now confirmed, without a doubt, kidnapped.
The flight attendant, a statuesque blonde who would look at home on any fashion runway in Europe, strode toward him, her form-fitting blue uniform a constant distraction, despite her age being less than half his.
And she was the source of most of his guilt.
A dedicated flight attendant, just for me.
“You really don’t have to be waiting on me. I’m not rich.”
She flashed a Hollywood smile. “My job is to serve you. I come with the plane whether you need me or not.”
“Huh. Next time can I specify no flight attendant?”
“Sorry, it’s required in case there’s an emergency.”
Reading frowned, though did feel slightly better knowing that she wasn’t an option he had forgotten to tick off while making the reservation.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
Reading sighed.
You might as well let the poor girl work. She’ll be bored otherwise.
“Just a Diet Coke if you’ve got it.”
“Of course.” She smiled. “Can I add a splash of something in there for you?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m on duty.”
As if on cue, his laptop beeped at him with a notification about the vehicles the Polish now suspected were involved.
Finally, a lead!
His drink was delivered with a smile and a gleam, and he had to resist the urge to lean out into the aisle as she walked away.
You’re a dirty old man.
His phone rang, startling him, and he almost spilled his drink. He put it on the table in front of him and took the call. “Reading.”
“Oh, hi, Agent Reading, this is Tommy Granger, from Prof—”
“I know who you are. Have you found something new?”
“Umm, yes, sir. I was able to track one of the bad guy’s phones.”
Reading chuckled.
‘Bad guys.’
“Excellent work. I won’t bother asking how. Where is it?”
“Until a few minutes ago, it was heading south on the A1 highway in Poland, approaching the Czech Republic. I lost contact with it just a few minutes ago. It might have gone offline, or they might have figured out they were being tracked.”
“Do you have the number?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send it to you right away.”
“Good. I’ll see if Interpol can find out anything about it. Anything else?”
“Well, we’d like to help.”
“I’m not sure what more you can do.”
There was a pause. “Well, umm, let’s just say that I’m very good at accessing things I’m not supposed to. I was thinking that since we know where they’ve been traveling the past several hours, maybe I could give the traffic cameras a go.”
Reading smiled. “That would be illegal.”
“Only if I’m caught.”
He frowned. “With an attitude like that, one day you will be.”
“Okay, I understand.”
He shook his head. “You’re going to do it, anyway, aren’t you?”
“Ahh, yes?”
“Fine, I just don’t want to know about it unless you find something. And make sure you don’t get caught.”
“I never do!”
He ended the call and sighed.
Kids!
His phone vibrated with the suspect’s number, and he forwarded it to his partner at Interpol, then pulled up a map on his laptop. He followed the A1 south, picking a spot a couple of hours ahead of their suspects’ current location, then waved the flight attendant over.
“Yes, sir?”
“Tell the pilot to reroute to Krakow.”
“Right away, sir.”
43
South of Kwidzyn (formerly Marienwerder), Poland
Officer Jelen listened to the update provided by one of his fellow officers, Inspector Zabek graciously allowing him to remain involved, mostly as a liaison between him and the locals he was familiar with.
“The old farmer has confirmed it was two trucks with beer company advertising, not beer trucks like he originally said.”
Zabek nodded. “Good work. Traffic cameras caught two trucks matching the description coming onto the A1. We’re setting up roadblocks at the border as we speak.”
Jelen’s eyebrows popped. “That far?”
“They’re over four hours ahead. That’s almost five-hundred-kilometers they could have traveled.”
The sound of a helicopter approaching had Jelen turning along with the dozens of personnel now on scene.
“That’s my ride,” said Zabek, heading toward the landing zone nearby. He pointed at Jelen. “I want you to come with me. You can still serve as my liaison.”
Jelen grinned at Krakowski. “Yes, sir!” He rushed after Zabek then climbed in the chopper, this the first time he had been in one. Zabek showed him how to strap in, then handed him a headset as they lifted off. He put the headphones over his ears, the din of the rotors cut, and positioned the mike in front of his mouth as they lifted off.
He watched his colleagues below shrink to ants as they rose, the entire area crawling with police as well as academics from Gdansk and Warsaw, there to document the massive treasure trove discovered inside the old abandoned mine.
I wonder how many other locations like this are hidden around Europe.
He stared at the scarred hillside, its secret finally revealed.
And why, whoever buried these things, never came back for them.
44
South of Marienwerder, West Prussia
Nazi Germany
February 3, 1945
Vogel sat in the back of the car assigned to him, his driver silently carrying out his duty, a duty Vogel wasn’t happy about. It had taken several days to get the permits to travel to Marienwerder, the location provided by the late Dieter Maier for the locomotive he had picked up, but one of the stipulations was that he had to take a driver familiar with the roads.
Command claimed they were concerned he might get lost and fall into Russian hands. It was more likely they feared he was making a run for it to rejoin his family. The thought had occurred to him, though traveling across Germany without being picked up would be impossible.
At least without the help of criminals like Gruber.
“We’re here.”
Vogel leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at the sight before him. There were several transport trucks being loaded by a dozen men operating heavy equipment, one truck stacked with what appeared to be railroad tracks.
What’s going on here?
They passed through what at one time must have been a gate, but the fence that surrounded the area was gone, only the posts remaining, and those were being removed. He surveyed the hill ahead of them, then pointed to the left, something appearing off. The driver stopped about fifty yards from the hillside, and Vogel climbed out, approaching what appeared to be a carefully disguised collapsed tunnel entrance. He had little doubt that given a few weeks, perhaps months, no one would even know there had been something here.
He turned and scanned the area, whoever was in charge clearly attempting to remove all evidence that anything had ever happened here. He knew from the records it was a mine, and that it was due to be shut down. So why would they hide any evidence it had been there? Perhaps if there was still something here to be mined by the enemy, but why the subterfuge? Just blow the tunnels, making it impossible to work.
None of this made sense.
Unless they’re hiding something else.
The locomotive had been here, he could even see where there used to be
tracks leading to the disguised entrance, crews raking out the ground as he watched. The locomotive wouldn’t be here for no reason. It had obviously delivered something. The question was what. It was a question that would probably go unanswered, though whatever the answer was, it was worth killing for to protect.
He was convinced now more than ever that Hermann Lang had been killed here after delivering a secret cargo, then Dieter Maier was sent to collect the locomotive, and killed for what he had seen.
Nobody could know something was hidden here, and secrets that deep were held by organizations like the Gestapo.
Or the SS, like the colonel now marching quickly toward him.
“Who are you? Why are you here?”
Vogel kept his immediate uneasiness hidden, or at least he hoped he had. An angry SS colonel was dangerous. Extremely dangerous, especially outside of Berlin, where he at least had some protections.
Vogel presented his ID. “Detective Inspector Vogel, Kriminalpolizei. I’m investigating a missing person’s case.” He decided a bit of the truth might get him out of this, but he had to be careful.
“Who are you looking for?”
“A train engineer named Hermann Lang. One of his colleagues said he might have been killed here by partisans. I was just hoping to confirm the story so his wife can stop wondering what happened.”
The colonel’s eyes flared. “This is military property, under the direct control of the SS. You have no permission to be here. You are under arrest!”
Vogel raised his identification and travel permits once again as his heart slammed.
He was about to die.
“I have the proper travel permits, and you have no authority over me.” He motioned to his driver to bring the car around. “I am, however, perfectly willing to discuss this with our superiors in Berlin.” He opened the rear door and climbed in. He leaned out. “Do you want to travel in my car, or do you have your own?”
The Nazi's Engineer Page 13
