Matt’s second shopping trip resulted in fresh clothes for them both. Rosa, with only a bra left to cover her torso, was unable to influence his selections. Pick only plain colours, she had said, whites and darks. Like all men with an independent streak, he had to experiment.
“Do you like it?” he asked as she held the coloured top up to her neck and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
“Its fine,” she replied, screwing up her face in horror at his choice.
Fortunately, he’d turned away to examine Johannes’ mobile phone and missed the look on her face. Scrolling down the call history Matt found what he was looking for, a number for Eva-Maria. He had a contact; and this fresh information invigorated his soul, filled his heart with renewed hope. The plan was back on track.
While Rosa dressed, Matt’s thoughts loitered over the issue of who had betrayed their location at St Wolfgang to Tillman’s death squad. Could it have been Vogel? She was the obvious choice.
There was only one way to find out.
“Guten Tag Johannes,” said the quiet voice answering the phone.
“Eva-Maria?” he asked.
“Wer ist das?” she enquired.
“My name is Matt Durham. Your brother asked me to give you a call on this number.”
The line went silent and he wondered what to say next.
“Eva-Maria, are you still there?”
“Repeat your name please, sir.”
“Durham, Matt Durham,” he confirmed, “I am the friend coming to Europe by boat Johannes told you about.”
“Yah, I recall now. Where is my brother, Mr Durham?”
Her voice sounded hesitant and cautious, perhaps a little frightened.
“Johannes cannot come to the phone, that’s why he asked me to call. He said you would be able to help me.”
“How can I help you?”
“Your brother has told you I have information for your superior, Ms Catherine Vogel. I wish to meet her privately so I can be sure it is safely received.”
Another silence followed. Matt thought he could hear a man’s voice in the background.
“Where do you call from?” she asked.
Matt had no intention of revealing his location, particularly over the phone.
“I will be in Brussels in around six days,” he said, avoiding a direct answer.
“Six days!”
She had expected him to be closer. Both were now wary of each other. This was not proving to be an easy conversation.
“I will need to consult her diary. It is possible we must first meet before Ms Vogel will agree to see you,” she advised.
“Okay, I will ring you on another day, to finalise all of the arrangements.”
“Mr Durham, do not go. I must ask you something else.”
Her increasing anxiousness convinced him someone close by was monitoring the conversation.
“I’ll ring again, soon,” he said hurriedly and switched the phone off to avoid it being successfully traced.
“Who was that?” asked Rosa, entering from the bathroom.
“Eva-Maria,”
“So when and where are we meeting?”
“She’s getting back to me a little later. Likely I’ll see Vogel in Brussels.”
“You mean us,” said Rosa.
Matt didn’t give it a second thought.
“No, I’m going alone.”
“You are not going without me.”
He turned and looked into her eyes, knowing he was about to say something she would find both painful and upsetting.
“I can’t afford to carry any passengers.”
“Passengers!” she shouted.
“Rosa, you’re not fit enough for this job.”
“Who do you think you are? Five minutes training and now you think you’re a fucking expert. It takes years, not days, to get to my standard.”
“I’m not disagreeing, Rosa. But this is the only hand we’ve got at the moment. You said it yourself on the boat; we’ll be under constant threat. Yet you can’t fight, can’t run. In fact you can’t even walk quickly. You’d be a liability on this op.”
Rosa stared disbelievingly as he spoke the words she found so belittling. It felt like he was trying to humiliate her.
“I can still do some things,” she said defiantly.
“Yes, you can. Except they are none of the things needed for this particular job.”
Her eyes spat fire and rage. Were Rosa her normal healthy self then she’d likely have broken Matt’s neck. He understood difficult choices had to be made if they were going to have any chance of succeeding.
“I will recover,” she insisted.
“You will,” he said. “But it will take weeks, and we don’t have that sort of time.”
Matt knew he was right, and he could tell from the open disappointment in her eyes she understood this. He would have liked nothing more than to have Rosa by his side during the next stage of the perilous journey, advising and guiding while covering his back. Her injuries made it impossible to contemplate. There would be enough going on to occupy his mind, and he needed to focus on them rather than having to constantly check on her condition.
“Where will you stay while I’m gone?” he asked coldly.
Rosa failed to answer at first. He guessed she was still trying to think of an indisputable reason why he needed to take her. The eventual reply was whispered in resignation and defeat.
“Johannes’ lodge up in the hills, few people know anything about it. He called it his escape cabin. I’ll go there.”
“Good,” replied Matt. “Sounds like an ideal place to hole up until I get back. Will you be alright on your own?”
“Yes!”
The conversation had not been pleasant. Rosa was the last person he wanted to leave feeling diminished. There was too much at stake however, and he hoped she would eventually come to realise this.
Matt picked up the rucksack and emptied the contents out onto the bed. There were few items he needed to take. The real benefit of the activity lay in successfully managing to bring the ill tempered debate to a conclusion. As he pretended to sort through the array of items he could feel Rosa glaring menacingly into the back of his head. The sensation lasted for some considerable time before seeming to ease, and then he felt Rosa’s presence by his side.
“Is there anything else you need?” she asked.
Matt stood and thought for a few moments. There wasn’t anything else and Rosa already knew that. It was the gesture which pleased him.
“I won’t contact you while I’m away. Just suddenly arrive back in town a week or so from now and brief you then,” he said quietly.
“I know,” she replied quietly. “That’s how I would have handled it.”
He turned and gazed into her beautiful face, saddened by his lonely departure.
“Thanks,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back to the village soon enough. I promised not to leave you, and I won’t. I will not let that happen.”
Sipping coffee at the small, round outside table on the edge of the square, it dawned on him. Eva-Maria had to know about Johannes. It was likely she’d been told Matt was responsible.
If he could be accused of wrongdoing in the UK, there was every chance the authorities would try the same thing here.
Quite probably they had convinced Eva-Maria he was a wanted criminal, and she had therefore agreed to assist them in bringing him to justice. The more he thought about the call the more he was persuaded he was being lured, drawn into a trap. His earlier euphoric feelings of hope and aspiration were beginning to disappear, much as the steam from his coffee evaporated into the air around him.
Here he was in Salzburg, the heart of Europe, lost amongst the many similarly looking squares in the centre of town with no way forward and with no obvious escape route. There were two people left in the world Matt Durham could trust. One was recovering from injury amongst the wooded hills of St Wolfgang, while the other was nursing children back to health in Canada.
The cargo ship had never been stopped or searched during the voyage, and the HGV vehicle travelled unchallenged throughout its journey across Western Europe. Something, or someone, had tipped these people off. He was beginning to wonder if he was doing the right thing by heading in to Brussels to meet this woman.
Matt’s mind was in turmoil, racked with indecision. It was so unlike him, to be unsure and not know what his next move should be. He nibbled at the food, hunger suppressed by the new assessment of his circumstances.
I’ll give it one more go, a last chance, he thought. Looking across the street to the mobile phone shop an idea formed. All contact with Eva-Maria had to be under scrutiny, he reasoned. It was time for a stealthier approach.
The room of the guesthouse was barely big enough to swing the proverbial cat. A thin and narrow space, the tiny window sat high on the wall and was unreachable without the aid of a stepladder. The shower room appeared bigger than it actually was due to the more evenly proportioned dimensions. It was however clean and tidy, though it seemed to him everywhere you stayed in Austria seemed dust-free.
At least he was off the street and nobody had sought to check his passport. If he hadn’t asked the waitress at the café, he would never have found this place on his own. Matt tossed the rucksack onto the single bed, alongside the shopping bag holding his new clothes. The priority was the mobile and he plugged it in to charge. After a quick shower and change of clothing, he typed Eva-Maria’s number into the new phone and prepared the text.
Little Mermaid, Sebastian said you might help me.
Johannes had said it was her favourite film as a child. He would sing her to sleep at night pretending to be Sebastian, the crazy lobster. Few people would realise the connotation in the message, though it was a long shot. His enemies could be monitoring all of her incoming communications, and there was no guarantee she would either understand the message or wish to respond.
Uncertainty remained his only companion, filling him with ongoing doubt about meeting up with Vogel. Matt didn’t have a clue what this woman looked like. They could replace her with anyone and he would be none the wiser.
He glanced at the watch, three fifteen it read. All he could do was sit back and wait.
Seven o’clock arrived. Matt decided he could be imprisoned in this small room no longer, electing instead to wander into the town for an Austrian beer or two. He couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed a good lager. Picking up the phone he felt a gentle vibration, alerting him to the arrival of an incoming text.
Message from Ariel, it read. Only one person knew of this number. Hastily, he fumbled for the open button.
Two pm, place des palais on Friday, will be with friend. Confirm.
Using the scroll button he worked his way through the message and a photograph of two people began to reveal itself. They both appeared to be very young, work experience trainees by the looks of it. One of them was female, the other male.
The skinny young girl with brown eyes had long blonde hair and a prominent nose. Her wide mouth smiled broadly. The young man at her side beamed profusely, he was almost childlike with his cherubic features. They could be no more than in their late teens, he guessed.
They had given him four days to make the journey to the Belgian capital. It made sense to get there before, preferably within the next thirty six hours. It would be a challenge using local service routes, but he responded immediately.
Confirm, he wrote and pressed the send button.
Now he could enjoy a cold lager that little bit more.
Rising promptly, Matt felt a little more positive. After an early breakfast he strode out along the river for some much needed exercise. He considered crossing the bridge to the other side of town, changing his mind after consulting the local map which showed the police station was located there.
The brownish colouring of the river water surprised him. He wondered if this had anything to do with the vast salt deposits in the region, which is how Salzburg got its name originally. It was the single, most important natural resource which led to the city achieving prominence within Europe during earlier centuries. What struck him most about the town was its size. He had imagined it would be a vast urban area filled with all the latest designer shops, goods earmarked by expensive pricing labels and a McDonalds on every corner. This part of town retained much of its medieval charm and the people were uncommonly pleasant and helpful.
He arrived at the bookshop he remembered from yesterday and sought out the map and transport sections, identifying the items he needed for the journey.
A short walk took him to a café, through the archway after the small newsagents. A newspaper headline caught his attention. The word Vogel was writ in bold above the colour photograph. He pulled a copy from the rack.
Catherine Vogel sprechen, it said. He didn’t understand the rest. The woman was stood at the lectern with her hands raised above her head, her palms facing forward as if basking in some kind of adulation.
So this is what she looked like. The photograph intrigued him. There was something about her facial features which seemed familiar, resembling another face from the back of his mind. Then he twigged it. Matt recalled the photograph he’d been sent on the mobile the previous night. He realised the similarities between Vogel and her daughter. Meeting Eva-Maria would be like meeting a younger version of his ultimate confidant; a sort of mini-me moment from one of those daft spy-spoof movies.
Weird, he thought. Matt found it hard to rationalise how any person would want their own child working so closely to them yet deny any blood connection; unreal. Even odder, he thought, what type of parent would involve their own flesh and blood in something as dangerous as this? There could be no better example of mankind’s inhumanity to man, or woman in this case; the purest form of evil. Perhaps she was unaware of the danger.
He decided to study the woman’s picture more closely, see if it offered up any clues as to the type of person he would be dealing with. Late thirties, he guessed. Her strong features, hidden under the expansive smile, concealed the ambitious persona he was aware lurked beneath. The blonde head of shoulder length hair was perfectly set around her face, from where her green eyes seemed to sparkle and shine, taking the emphasis away from her prominent nose and wide mouth.
Powerfully dressed in a dark business suit she looked the consummate professional, while at the same time the accompanying knee length skirt reminded people of her femininity. Two shapely legs provided ample evidence she worked hard on retaining her trim, slim figure. Catherine Vogel would have turned many a young man’s head in her youth, and probably as many today, he considered. Whilst a single photograph had told him some things, there remained much more about the Austrian woman to be revealed. This article would help, if he could only read the language.
Matt returned to the bookshop and sought out an English / German dictionary to help translate the article. There would be enough time on the journey to Brussels to make inroads into its content.
Catherine Vogel, he mused for the umpteenth time. Why did the name bother him so much? There remained something that troubled him. He knew it was locked away somewhere within the dark recesses of his mind, and wished he could find the trigger to bring it to the surface. He considered whether to tail her for a couple of days, monitor Vogel’s movements and see what he could discover. This would be the safest option.
No, got to go for it, he decided.
Chapter Twenty Eight
A Capital Adventure
The Milieu Principle Page 27
