The colonel glared at him, clearly unsure of what to do, no one probably having challenged his authority before.
Vogel couldn’t wait, as at least half a dozen guards were strolling over.
“Very well, I’ll see you in Berlin.” He shut the door. “Drive.”
His driver stared in the rearview mirror for a moment, unsure of what to do.
“Now, if you want to make it out of here alive,” hissed Vogel.
The man shook out a terrified nod then hit the gas, sending them toward the entrance a little too quickly.
“Slow down, or they’ll open fire.”
The gas was eased off, and Vogel resisted the urge to check behind them and see what was happening. As they cleared the gate without incident, he breathed a little easier.
“Are they following us?”
The driver glanced in the mirror then paled. “I-I think so. There’s a car pulling through the gate.”
“Okay, just stay calm. Set a good pace as if you’re in a hurry to get back to Berlin, but not a crazy pace like you’re trying to escape someone.”
The accelerator was pressed, pushing Vogel into his seat.
“Easy.”
“Sorry, sir. It’s just that I’m about to piss my pants.”
Vogel laughed, trying to make the man at ease while he too struggled to control his full bladder. He had little doubt this SS colonel intended to kill them both to preserve whatever secret was hidden in the former mine.
What didn’t make sense to him was the location. Why hide something of obvious importance to the Reich, where the Russians would soon be arriving? It made no sense.
His jaw nearly dropped as he realized what must be going on.
They were planning for after the war.
Was it weapons for an armed resistance? It was possible, though again, why here? Wouldn’t the resistance be in Germany?
Gold to finance the resistance? Again, why here? And if it were just gold, why not transport it to Germany? Even if the train were hit by the Allies, it was just gold. Pick it up, load it on another train, and continue on.
What if it’s something fragile?
He chewed his cheek. If it was fragile, the only thing he could think of was weapons. Ammunitions, bombs—that he could understand, again for some type of resistance.
And again he returned to the question of why locate it here and not Germany?
He sighed. Whatever it was, it was important to someone, and important to the SS. And the Gestapo.
And now they knew, without a doubt, he was involved.
Even if he made it to Berlin somehow, he wouldn’t be allowed to remain alive. They were killing all the witnesses, and he had known that, yet his ridiculous notion of justice had sealed his fate, and that of this innocent driver.
They were both already dead.
They rounded a bend, and he saw no one ahead, a decision made. “Stop here. Quickly.”
“Why?” asked his terrified driver.
“I have to use the bathroom. Quickly!”
The driver slammed on his brakes and Vogel stepped out before they had even come to a halt. The car carrying the SS colonel rounded the bend and skidded to a stop, the SS colonel leaning out his window.
“What is going on here?”
“Bathroom break!” replied Vogel as he relieved himself.
“Hurry up!”
Vogel glanced over his shoulder at the impatient Colonel, wondering if the man might just kill him here and now, though counting on him not wanting to shoot a man in the back while he relieved himself. “The more you yell at me, the longer this is going to take.” He finished, then drew his sidearm, stepping through the brush lining the road with it behind his back.
“It’s about time!”
Vogel nodded. “I agree.” He pumped two rounds into the colonel, then two more into the man’s driver. He double-checked that they were dead, then reached into the shoulder pocket of the colonel, retrieving a notepad he had seen him making notes in, just in case he had recorded the name of the detective inspector that had visited the mine.
Vogel’s driver ran toward him, his hands on top of his head, his mouth agape. “Are you insane? What were you thinking?”
Vogel leaned in and put the car in neutral. “That if we reached Berlin with him, we’d both be dead.”
The driver froze. “Why? What have you gotten me into?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with. You are my driver. You were following my orders, and I had all the proper paperwork for this journey. You did nothing wrong. When we arrive in Berlin, you will drop me off, then immediately report to your superiors exactly what has happened here.”
“They’ll kill you for sure!”
Vogel nodded. “Yes, I’m sure they will.” He pushed the car toward a nearby farmer’s access road. “Don’t just stand there, help me push this thing out of sight before someone finds us.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
As they pushed the car out of sight, Vogel realized he had now transitioned from loyal detective, to traitorous murderer, and every one of his colleagues across the Reich would now be searching for him.
And he could think of only one way out of his predicament.
45
Route A1, Poland
Present Day
Acton had had too many opportunities to escape, but there was no way he would do it. Not with Laura still in the car. If he got away, he had no idea what they’d do to her, and he couldn’t risk it. Yet it also gave him hope that she could succeed where he had intentionally failed.
She had received the same training he had, knew what to do in these situations, and was the strongest woman he had ever met. If anyone could do it, she could.
He climbed back in the car, the door slammed shut behind him, then their captor rounded the rear of the vehicle and opened the opposite door.
“Let’s go.”
Laura flashed him a smile, and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod, his eyes imploring her to follow through on their plan. The door closed and he watched them head for the bathrooms. A crowd of tourists approached, and he suppressed a gasp when Laura whipped around, grabbing her captor’s wrist and bending it down, the expression on his face revealing his intense pain. She booted him in the head then sprinted, screaming something and pointing at the downed man, a large crowd converging on the area.
The driver cursed and threw his door open. Acton reached forward and grabbed him by the back of the shirt, holding him in place, then dragged him into the back seat so he could inflict some real damage.
The door opened and a gun pressed against his temple.
“I’ll kindly ask you to stop that, Professor.”
Acton let go, cursing, their captor already returned. The door slammed shut once again, and within moments, they were underway.
Yet it didn’t matter.
Laura had escaped, and now, should he die, he could die knowing that she was safe and among friends who loved her.
Laura sprinted toward the largest group of men she could see, a football team from the looks of it. She glanced over her shoulder to see her captor climbing into their SUV and leaving, her beloved James still in the back seat, staring at her.
But she was free, their captors gone, and now it was up to her to save him.
She knew him so well, she hadn’t been surprised when he had returned from the bathroom. There was no way he would be the one who escaped—it was always going to be her. He was too chivalrous to leave her behind.
And now that she was free, she had to be as calm as possible, as smart as possible. Calling local police would just delay things, and probably prevent her from making further calls for perhaps hours. She had to call someone who would believe her immediately, and would know who to call to take action.
Hugh!
Reading was one of her best friends, Interpol, and was the exact person she needed to contact. One of the men asked her something in Polish, concern on his face. She waved him off, feeli
ng safe now, and not wanting to draw any more attention to herself now that her captors had left.
“Are you okay?” he asked in English.
“Yes, thank you. I guess you should never accept rides from strangers.”
The man nodded, along with the others. “Especially as a woman. Can we help? Do you need a ride?”
She smiled. “That would just be getting a ride from more strangers, now, wouldn’t it?”
His jaw dropped, the poor man uncertain of what to say.
She laughed. “I’m just joking with you. I’m okay, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m just going to call for a friend to pick me up. Thank you.”
She hurried toward a small restaurant, spotting a payphone in a hallway to the left. She picked up the receiver and dialed the operator, shaking with relief as her ordeal was finally over, and, she feared, her husband’s was only about to get worse.
46
Gruber Residence
Berlin, Nazi Germany
February 3, 1945
Vogel found himself once again sitting across from Gruber, but this time there were no cigars, no snifters of cognac. Instead, he had the distinct impression Gruber might direct his men to carry out the orders probably already issued to every Gestapo agent in the Reich.
Kill Detective Inspector Wolfgang Vogel.
“There are a lot of people looking for you.” Gruber leaned back in his chair. “I must admit, I never thought you had it in you. Murder! Two men, including an SS colonel, no less!”
Vogel was impressed at how well informed Gruber was, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. The man had his fingers in so many pies, so many people on his payroll, he doubted there was little that went on in the Reich without his knowledge.
Though perhaps there was one thing.
“I had no choice. It was him or me.”
“And why was that?”
“Because I saw something I wasn’t supposed to.”
“And what was that?”
He had no idea, but he couldn’t let Gruber know that. It was the only card he held. “I’ll tell you when I’m with my family.”
Gruber chuckled. “I’ve already moved two people for you, with what is now a worthless promise. You’ll be dead before the war is out, and dead men don’t make good witnesses at trials.”
“Only if I’m caught. If you get me to my family, then I’ll still be alive to testify on your behalf.”
“You shot an SS colonel. If I’m caught trying to move you, not even my father will be able to protect me.” Gruber shook his head. “No, you’re too hot. In fact, I think it’s best I build a little more goodwill.” He flicked his wrist. “Take him to Gestapo headquarters.”
Two of Gruber’s men stepped forward, hauling him out of his seat.
“Wait! Don’t you want to know what I found?”
“Not interested.”
The men continued to drag him toward the door, Gruber already turning his back on him. “A train full of gold!”
Gruber’s chair stopped spinning and he raised a hand, his men pausing. “How much gold?”
Vogel shook the two men off, returning to his chair, resting his hands on the back as he leaned in toward a reengaged Gruber. “At least an entire boxcar worth, probably more. I only had time to see the one before the colonel caught me.”
“And why should I believe you?”
“Why else would the SS want me dead?”
“Because you killed one of their own!”
“No, the only reason I killed him was because he already wanted me dead. Like I said before, it was him or me. I killed him to save my own life, and he wanted me dead because I found his gold.”
“Where?”
Vogel smiled. “Get me to my family, and I’ll give you the location. You’ll be richer than you could have ever imagined.”
Gruber leaned back in his chair, then clapped, slowly, deliberately, shaking his head. He rose and extended a hand. “Well played, Detective Inspector. Very well played.”
47
Route A1, Poland
Present Day
“We’ve got a roadblock ahead. Looks like they’re pulling over all the trucks.”
Tankov cursed at the update from Team Two. “Okay, they must have discovered what happened at the mine and somehow figured out we were heading south.”
Utkin nodded. “Probably whoever hacked your phone.”
Tankov gave him a look. “Remind me to give you a good beating when this is all over.”
Utkin grunted. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to.”
Tankov laughed. “Team Two, what can you tell me? Are they searching everyone?”
Laughter replied. “Only those advertising beer!”
He smiled. “Please tell me our new matches aren’t advertising anything that could be remotely mistaken for beer.”
“Nope. One’s got a tasty looking soup, the other a grocery chain. No way they’ll be mistaken for beer.”
Tankov breathed a sigh of relief, the one part of their plan not completely under their control, working for the moment. “Excellent. Let me know as soon as they’re through.”
“Roger that.”
They rapidly approached a long line of trucks, dozens of police vehicles ahead dividing the traffic between transport trucks and smaller vehicles like their SUV. They approached the normally ceremonial border, the Schengen Agreement giving passport-free access throughout the European Union. He spotted their two vehicles in the mix, and smiled.
Perfect.
The tech they were using was highly advanced and extremely expensive. It was essentially a highly flexible television screen, or more accurately, a grid of them, covering both sides of their curtain side trucks. It was treated to give any image it projected a matte appearance with no backlighting, and as long as no one touched them, or examined them too closely, they’d never know what they were seeing was actually a computer-generated image from scans his second team had made of actual vehicles on the road with them.
It was incredible tech they had used several times before on operations throughout Europe, and it was only a matter of time before it was legitimately rolled out to trucks around the continent for rotating advertising, once the costs had come down.
What an incredible time to be alive.
He glanced at Acton in the back seat, the man quiet since his wife had made her escape. He was curious to see if the man’s bladder problems continued, or if he had somehow made a miraculous recovery.
Professor Palmer’s moves were impressive. It was clear she had received self-defense training from someone, her moves not something taught at the local women’s center, but military.
Special Forces.
They were executed with precision and decisiveness, something most civilians failed at. They might know the moves, but once in the situation, they couldn’t execute them, immediately doubting their abilities, and scared to actually inflict harm.
This woman had none of those qualms.
She had disarmed him and inflicted excruciating pain within seconds, catching him completely off guard. It was his fault she had escaped and drawn attention to them, and he had no doubt reports were already going out over the wire to watch for their vehicle.
A helicopter landing to his right caught his attention, a man climbing out who appeared like he owned the place, clearly some government official in charge, and probably the man now pursuing him.
“Hello, Czech Republic!”
He smiled at Utkin’s declaration as they cleared the border, and this new arrival’s jurisdiction. He activated his comm. “Time to switch vehicles.”
The acknowledgments came in, and Utkin changed lanes in anticipation of their exit. They had eight more hours of travel, then they’d be safe, but until then, they’d have to be a lot more careful than they had been.
Tracked cellphones and an escape were not the way things were supposed to be playing out.
48
Inselhotel Potsdam
Pots
dam, Germany
“Wait! Look!”
Mai pointed at the screen and Tommy tapped a key, halting the footage racing forward as they tried to track the two trucks involved in the professors’ kidnapping. They had quickly found them once they knew where and what to look for, but they were hours behind, and now had to perform the painstaking task of following them past each traffic camera. Skipping ahead could have them missing a turn-off, or misjudging the speed and assuming they had turned off when they hadn’t.
Slow and steady would win this, and they were quickly gaining back the time lost.
Like now.
Mai had been correct, the two trucks, beer logos emblazoned on their sides, had entered a tunnel about three hours ago.
“Check out that black SUV behind them. Can you zoom in on the driver’s side rear window?”
Tommy dragged the mouse pointer, the image zooming in, his software smoothing it out somewhat. “Holy crap! That’s Professor Acton!”
Mai tossed her head back. “Thank God, he’s alive! Can you see Professor Palmer?”
Tommy ran the zoomed image forward and back, but they could see no one except the two men in the front seats, and the brief moment where Acton had leaned against the window. “I think he did that on purpose.”
Mai nodded. “He’s a very smart man.” She leaned in. “Can you get the license plate?”
“Should be able to.” Moments later, he had it.
“We should get that and this image of the two in the front seat to Agent Reading.”
Tommy agreed, already sending the info as he called the agent.
“Reading.”
“Hello, sir, it’s Tommy. I’ve found him, or at least where he was a few hours ago.”
“I thought we already knew that?”
Tommy gulped, the man gruffer than he was used to, and his British accent intimidating. “Well, we did, but I mean, I have an image showing Professor Acton in the back of an SUV.”
“What?” This excited the man. “They’re not in the trucks?”
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