by Trevor Scott
“But...”
“Forget it,” Jake said, becoming angry. “We can’t dwell on the past. We have to look forward and get these bastards. It’s more than just the technology transfer now. Gunter has gone too far. The Hungarians have gone too far. Carlson has gone too far. These fuckers have pissed me off for the last time.”
Jake knew that getting angry was counterproductive. Yet, he needed his anger. His senses became more sharp, more aware of his surroundings. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe he knew that Gunter wouldn’t give up Carlson’s last bit of information without a fight.
“You know, Herb, if Bundenbach can produce this super transputer, and a mini version for personal computing, it will completely change the world computer market? They’ll have a corner on the market. It could take other companies years to recover, if ever.”
“It’s that important?” Herb asked.
“I’m afraid so. I’m assuming that Carlson has held out the most important information until the end. Probably some hidden factor that makes the chip so fast. It could be as simple as a chemical formula or special metal relay. I don’t know. Anything. But whatever it is, Carlson is probably in there right now explaining its function and effect.” Jake pointed toward the Bundenbach headquarters.
“But I still don’t understand the Hungarian plan,” Herb said.
Jake rubbed his eyes and shook his head to try to wake up. “I don’t know for sure. Simpson gave me some information. About as much as he really knew. After all, he was only a middle man. Carlson is an insecure guy. He doesn’t totally trust anyone. The Germans are no exception. He figures if the Germans hose him over, he’ll have a backup plan.”
“So he hires Dalton and Simpson to set up the Hungarian connection?” Herb asked.
Jake thought for a second. “Sort of. You see, Carlson didn’t know that Johnson was also selling out to the Hungarians. I think Carlson wanted some other relationship with the Hungarians.”
“Like what?”
“Dalton works for the U.S. Commerce Department. He’s privy to some pretty sensitive economic information. Maybe Dalton was giving the Hungarians more than just computer technology. He might have been handing over economic forecasts and U.S. strategic economic plans for Europe, based on the Euro currency and the plans for the former East Bloc countries.”
“What good would that do for the Hungarians?”
“It could do a lot. If the Hungarians not only have the technology to produce a fast computer, but also the marketing strategy to go with it, the Hungarians could have a winning combination. They could be in a position to produce a computer, with cheap labor costs, and market it throughout Western Europe and eventually Eastern Europe. That would put them at a distinct advantage to exploit those markets.”
Jake covered his face with his hands and stroked his hair. He knew that what he had just told Herb was close enough to the truth to be scary. If he was right, and he was pretty sure of that, then corporations had started to go too far. Killing people for secrets. Bombing people to keep them quiet. Where would it end? How far would they go to succeed? Carlson had gone too far. Bundenbach had gone too far. The Hungarians had gone too far. And Jake knew that only he and Herb could help reverse what had been set in motion.
Jake looked at his watch.
“We have to move,” Herb said anxiously.
Jake checked his watch one last time. “Let’s go.”
They got out of the car into the bitter wind and rain. Drops of rain driven by the heavy wind prickled the back of Jake’s neck like tiny needles. He flipped up the collar on his jacket. They shuffled quickly toward the entrance to Bundenbach Electronics.
37
BONN, GERMANY
A gust of wind and rain followed Jake and Herb into a small foyer between two sets of doors at the entrance to Bundenbach Electronics. Jake shook the rain from his leather coat as he looked into the bright lobby that awaited. He pressed his arm against the butt of his gun.
Herb looked nervously to the street. “Did you see the car across the street as we walked up?”
Jake strained, but couldn’t see the car from the entrance way. “Yeah. Looked like it might be the Hungarian twins.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“The place looks like a morgue in here,” Jake said, pointing toward the lobby. “Let’s go.”
They walked past an information desk, as if they knew where they were going, and waited for an elevator.
Rising to the top floor, they stood together in silence. They got out and looked down both hallways. To their left was a passageway with only one door at the far end on the left with an international exit sign at the top—a man running. Large plants sat at the end of the hall beneath a window. Not much natural light supplemented the florescent overhead lights today, Jake thought.
The passageway to the right had a number of doors on both sides of the hall. Workers came and went from one door to the next.
Just in front of the elevators was a small waiting area with a large overhead skylight and well-kept plants. A convex window extended outward with a view of the Rhine below.
A blonde receptionist sat talking unofficial business with a soft voice. She didn’t seem to notice Jake and Herb.
Jake took a better look at her. He smiled. She was the one who had lulled him when he first got to Germany. The lookout for Gunter and his friends with the Uzis.
“Wie bitte,” Jake said, forcing a smile. “Ist Herr Bundenbach frei?”
The woman looked up at Jake and seemed surprised. She must not have been told that he had survived. Gunter was always one to emphasize success and ignore failure, Jake thought.
The woman hung up the phone with a quick goodbye. “A moment,” she said, keeping her eyes on Jake as she buzzed her boss.
Jake glanced at Herb. He was watching the elevator and the hall.
“He’ll see you Mr. Adams,” she finally said.
“Explain to your boss that Herr Kline is with the German Customs office, and has a few questions to ask as well.”
She didn’t relay the message. Instead she got up and escorted the two of them to a large set of carved wooden doors. She inserted an electronically coded key and the doors swung open.
“I hope it’s not that hard to get out,” Herb whispered to Jake as they entered the office.
Jake scanned the room. Obviously the boss sitting behind the desk. Gunter sat to the man’s right in a red leather chair with studs. His fat goon with the rearranged face stood behind him against the wall next to the window. To the left of the boss, another man, even larger than Gunter’s beaten sidekick, stood with his arms crossed. No Carlson though.
The boss sat back in his high chair. His dark gray suit looked nearly perfect. His dark hair with silver along the temples was meticulously combed. Not a hair out of place.
“So, Jake Adams. Gunter has told me so much about you, I feel I know you already,” the boss said with a politician smile. Smug confidence.
“You have me at a disadvantage then,” Jake said. “I can only assume that you are Herr Bundenbach.”
The man nodded his head toward Jake only. “Yes. What can I do for you?”
Jake started to feel the urge to explode. It was one thing for a secretary to ignore Herb, but this son of a bitch should have a little more respect.
“First of all, this is Herr Kline with the German Customs office,” Jake said, as he put his hand on Herb’s shoulder. “I’m looking for a man named Steve Carlson. I understand he’s here, and he works for you?”
“What do you want with this man?”
Jake started to pull something from an inside coat pocket and the large men quickly pulled toward their guns. The boss raised his hands to keep them from drawing the guns to view. Jake flashed a black leather case open to expose a gold oval badge.
“I’m a special agent with the United States International Trade Commission. I have reason to believe that Steve Carlson has been providing your company with con
gressionally restricted computer technology.” Jake put his badge back in his pocket, but refused to look at Gunter.
Gunter stood up quickly. “Bullshit, Jake. You’re just an overpaid corporate investigator.”
“According to who?” Jake asked, staring at Gunter.
Gunter looked at his boss.
“Adams, you have no jurisdiction in Germany,” Bundenbach said, his hands together almost as if he were praying.
“Ah, but you’re wrong. You see, the U.S. Trade Commission has a reciprocity agreement with the NATO Council. The NATO Council and German Customs also have agreements. But I think you know this. So why don’t we quit with the bullshit and produce Carlson?”
The boss shifted his eyes toward Gunter’s man and lifted his head slightly. The fat beaten man went to a private door and let Steve Carlson in. Carlson immediately gave Jake a harsh stare as he walked in with his briefcase dangling from his left arm.
“What’s the matter? Wasn’t Milt paying you enough?” Jake asked callously.
“Fuck you,” Carlson said. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”
Jake felt Herb’s hand on his right arm. Jake knew he needed to maintain control. But he was tired. He was mad. And the pain from his bullet wound on his head increased with his blood pressure and was now throbbing uncontrollably.
●
Downstairs, four men entered the lobby. Vitally Urbanic was in the lead, followed closely by the Hungarian Twins. A few steps back was the American, Jason Dalton. They stepped into the elevator and the door closed them in.
●
They were at a stand-still and Jake knew it. He kept his eyes piercing through Carlson. It was his move.
“What’s this Trade Commission shit, Jake?” Carlson asked.
“That’s right. And I’m here to bring you and the last bit of Teredata information back to America.”
Carlson laughed aloud. Gunter and the two large men joined in as well.
Suddenly, Jake drew his gun and aimed it directly at Carlson’s head. Herb pulled his out now and trained it on Gunter.
“Go ahead...laugh,” Jake said. He stepped up to Carlson and grabbed a hold of his collar, pulling him toward the door.
The largest of Gunter’s men went for his gun, so Herb swung around and shot him, sending him to the carpet in a heap. Backing toward the door, Jake, Herb, and the struggling Carlson headed out into the reception area.
The elevator dinged, followed by the doors opening. When Jake saw the Hungarians with Dalton, there was a period of misunderstanding in everyone’s eyes. The Hungarians went for their guns, but Herb was faster. He fired a round into the elevator, sending the four men scrambling to the corners.
Jake pulled Carlson down the corridor to the stairwell, the briefcase clanking against the wall.
Herb followed closely behind, his gun aimed back at the elevator.
Shots sprayed down after them. One hit Herb in the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the floor. Jake let go of Carlson for a second as he pulled Herb into the stairwell. Carlson made a break down the stairs.
Herb looked up at Jake. “I’m all right. Go. Get Carlson.”
Reluctantly, Jake turned and rushed down the stairs after Carlson. Herb leaned against the door frame, his gun aimed down the hallway.
●
Back in Bundenbach’s office, Gunter and his man were at the edge of the door.
“Get Carlson back,” Bundenbach yelled at Gunter.
Gunter shoved the door open. His man sprayed the Hungarians with his Uzi, dropping one of the twins and Dalton. Vitaly and the other twin returned fire and scooted back into the elevator, punching the down button. Gunter peppered the door, and then turned to find his man dead at his side.
“Damn it,” Gunter yelled. He rushed around the corner toward the stairwell, but jumped back when Herb sent a few rounds after him. Gunter retreated back into the office and slammed the door.
Bundenbach pointed toward the back door. “Take the back stairs. We need Carlson.”
Gunter rushed out.
●
The back door burst open and Steve Carlson ran out into the biting rain whipping across the trees and side of the building. He glanced around and then hurried toward a park along the Rhine River.
Seconds later, Jake flew out the door into the squall, his gun aimed in each direction. Then he saw Carlson, so he took off after him through the wet grass.
●
Coming out the front door, Vitaly and the remaining twin ran around the side of the building. They stopped at the corner, glancing around through the driving rain.
Vitaly pointed his gun toward the river park. “There they are.”
The two of them sprinted off after Carlson and Jake.
●
Gunter stepped out the private door. He noticed the two Hungarians sloshing through the wet grass, and farther on toward the river, Carlson and Adams. Rain lashed down on him, and he wiped the water from his eyes before running off after the four of them.
●
By now Jake had closed in on Carlson. They were running parallel to the Rhine, the grass lashing out at their legs. The briefcase dangled from Carlson’s hand.
Jake was closer now. With one quick motion, he dove at Carlson, catching him in the legs and tackling him to the wet weeds. They rolled around on the muddy ground. Jake punched Carlson in the face, sending his head flinging back to the ground.
Suddenly, shots rang out in the hollow wind.
Jake rolled over, drew his gun. He spotted the source, aimed, and fired three times, dropping the second Hungarian twin. Then Jake saw Vitaly dive behind a tree. A hand appeared with a gun, followed by two shots in Jake’s direction.
Silence. Only the wind and rain.
“I just want the briefcase, Adams,” Vitaly yelled.
Jake, on his belly, rolled a few times to a safer position.
“That’s not gonna happen, pal,” Jake hollered back at him.
Behind Jake, he could hear Carlson crawling away toward the river. But he was worried more about the man with the gun.
A single shot echoed through the trees. But not toward Jake, he thought.
Silence again. But Jake could see another figure making his way through the trees perhaps thirty meters to the left of the Hungarian. Who was that?
“Shoot him,” Carlson yelled behind Jake. He was standing now, at the edge of the river.
Jake turned his head just as a single shot ripped through Carlson’s chest, sending him flailing backwards into the Rhine with a tremendous splash. The dark river swallowed him. The briefcase suddenly rose to the surface and floated downstream.
Starting to rise, Jake was forced back down with a flurry of rounds cutting up a tree next to him.
Jake returned fire. Three times.
More bullets flew toward Jake.
Jake fired again and ducked back down.
More shots at Jake.
He waited now, hearing footfalls through the trees. Jake pulled up and fired three times at the figure.
Silence.
Jake swapped out a new magazine. After a short while, he got up and crept toward the area he shot last, his gun leading the way. Freezing rain beat down on him, making him shiver. He cleared the bushes away and glanced down toward the ground. Gunter was on his back in the wet grass, a bullet hole in his forehead.
●
Polizei were everywhere, along with EMTs checking bodies in the woods and strapping them to stretchers, hauling them down from Bundenbach’s office.
Jake had made his way to the front of the building, and was sitting on a retaining wall in the entranceway when two men in white pulled a gurney toward him.
Strapped down and patched up was Herb. He had the two men stop next to Jake.
“You gonna live, Herb?” Jake asked.
“I have to. I’m too close to retirement.”
Just then two of the uniformed Polizei hauled Herr Bundenbac
h out of the elevator, his hands cuffed behind his back. He looked defeated and dejected as they whisked him past Jake and Herb.
Jake turned back toward Herb. “You take it easy.”
With that, the EMTs pushed the gurney out into the driving rain.
A moment later, Jake went out into the freezing downpour and got behind the wheel of his car. He looked into his mirror at his tired eyes and hoped the airplane would have a terrible movie.
38
PORTLAND, OREGON
Jake sat in the informal area of Milt Swenson’s office.
Milt came in and sat down on the sofa. “How was your flight?”
“Pretty normal. Screaming kids. Obnoxious assholes trying to strike up conversations.” Jake smiled.
Milt seemed uneasy, shifting from legs crossed to open and then crossed again.
“What’s the matter, Milt?”
“I had no idea Steve was involved. You have to believe me.”
“Why shouldn’t I? You had nothing to gain by knowing what he was up to.”
Milt shifted again. “The Senate Armed Services Committee comes here tomorrow. I plan on pitching our Joint Strike Fighter proposal at that time.”
Jake didn’t say a thing.
“I’m really satisfied with your results,” Milt said. “I mean, you could have just let Steve sell my company out to the Germans and the Hungarians. You took the extra step for me. I appreciate it.”
Jake didn’t know what to say. Had he really done anything out of the ordinary? After all, he was hired to do a job. Reputation was important for future cases. Without references, how could he expect to continue in this business. No. He had done what needed to be done. Sure he could have sold out his principles. Given in to greed. But looking in the mirror each morning would have been far too difficult.
“I got lucky. Had some good help, also.”
“Luck? I doubt it. You seem to have a penchant for being in the right place at the right time. I call that experience.”
Jake wondered where the praise was leading.
“Jake, I could use you here at Teredata,” Milt said.
Jake shifted in his chair. “I don’t think so. You’ve compensated me nicely. I’ve made more in the last month than in six months with the agency. That’s the good part. But I’ve found that I like working for myself. I know I’ll always have a boss. But at least I can choose who that boss is.”
