“Go shower,” Kari ordered. “Get some rest. Don’t let those Germans or Bavarians or whatever they are overwork you.”
Alex laughed. “I won’t. And don’t you overdo it, either, while I’m gone.”
“Do I ever?” Kari asked with that amazing grin of hers.
“Yes,” Alex said forcefully. “Yes!”
Kari laughed too. They said their goodnights. And Alex ended the Face Time.
But as soon as he did, he felt lonely again.
He went over to the full-sized bar, poured himself a glass of wine, and looked around the room as he sipped. He was in the presidential suite, and it was very lacking by his standards. And if the best they had to offer was lacking, he knew he would have his work cut out for him.
But time would tell, he thought, as he made his way back to the window. He was just getting tired of this lifestyle. Hotel after hotel. Long plane ride after long plane ride. It was getting to be burdensome. Especially when he thought about being in Apple Valley with Kari and Jordan. They were the center of his gravity now. And he needed that center.
He took another sip, held his glass down by his side, and then, out of nowhere, a bullet ripped through the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window, shattering the window and the glass he held in his hand.
Alex’s first instinct was to duck, which he did, and then, realizing what was happening, he dived for cover as a barrage of bullets followed, ripping through the window and causing it to shatter even more and to drop into falling sections and shards of glass. He ran, still ducked down, through the living area, through the dining area, and into the bedroom, as the bullets kept flying.
Unfortunately for him, the bedroom had more floor-to-ceiling windows and the bullets followed his every move. But he used the bed itself as cover as he made his way, still ducked down, up to that bed and threw his luggage onto the floor. Sitting with his back against the side of the bed, he opened his suitcase swiftly, grabbed his loaded Glock, and, on his knees on the side of the bed, began firing back.
Then his door was kicked in. His security detail arrived. And they, too, began firing at the assailant across the street.
The excessive firepower caused the assailant to retreat, and the incoming to finally cease. Alex got back on his feet, and he began running toward the living area.
“Are you okay, Boss?” Belvins, his security chief while in Munich, asked.
“I’m okay.”
“Where is it coming from?”
“That hotel across the street,” said Alex, and he, along with most of his men, ran out of the suite.
They took the elevator downstairs, and then ran out of the lobby and onto the busy streets of Munich. By now most of the lobby dwellers had heard the gunshots and were running for cover themselves, while the pedestrians on the street, and motorists driving by, were in full panic mode. Horns were honking, people were screaming and running, and a man ran out of the hotel across the street carrying a long case.
Alex couldn’t swear that it was the gunman, so he held his men back and waited. He knew the signal of the man’s guilt would be in where he looked. Most people were looking up, where the shots had begun, or they were looking straight ahead, trying to get to safer ground. But when the gunman looked across the street, and not up, but at the entrance, Alex knew they had their man. And when their man, realizing he’d been spotted, ran toward a parked car, Alex and his men took off after him.
The man tossed the driver out of the car, commandeered it, and then took off.
As the car took off, it became a weapon itself. It didn’t slow down for pedestrians, but hit them instead, as he attempted to get away. Because that man was as reckless as he was dangerous, Alex knew he had to act.
He stood in the middle of the street and aimed. He had to wait until pedestrians cleared a path, while still keeping his eyes on that fleeing automobile, but then he fired. He fired several shots. But then he had to stop again, as pedestrians were in the way, and then he fired several more shots, determined to stop that killer.
Eventually, he had clear enough of a shot to hit the driver through the neck. It wasn’t a kill shot, because Alex didn’t want the motherfucker to die. He needed answers. He needed to know why he was targeted!
But the shot in the neck was enough for the driver to lose control of the car. The car veered out, swerved from one side of the street to the other side, and flipped, causing even more panic in the streets.
Alex and his men began running to the car, hoping to at least find the driver still alive and able to talk. But just as they were approaching, the car exploded before they could reach it, rocking them off of their feet, and knocking them to the ground.
When Alex looked back up, he knew that driver, just like that car, had been blown to kingdom come. Alex and his men covered their heads as the shards of metal that had gone up in smoke and fire, fell down.
Alex could hear his men asking him, repeatedly, what had happened and what was going on, but he wasn’t in the mood for answering. Because he had no clue either. None whatsoever. He didn’t see this one coming by a mile!
And that, for a man like Alex Drakos, as he and his men rose to their feet, and as sirens rang out all around them, was the greatest fear of all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kari was hard at work in her two-room office, discussing a call she received regarding one of her employees. The employee, Resheda Greene, stood in front of her desk with her hand on her hip. She found it insulting to have to be there at all.
Kari didn’t like it any more than she did, but right was still right, and Resheda, all evidence suggested, was dead wrong. “You had the second floor to clean at that motel,” Kari said to her.
“And I cleaned every room,” said Resheda with serious attitude.
But Kari was already shaking her head. “No, Ree, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did! I’m telling you I did! What, Kari, you gonna believe that lady over me? That lady lying, Kari!”
“Why, Ree? Why in the world would she lie on you?”
“Because that’s what she does! She doesn’t like black people, that’s what it’s about. If you truly wanna know the truth.”
“I know the truth,” Kari said. “After she phoned yesterday, I went over there myself and viewed every room, at least those that didn’t have a guest in them, that you were assigned to clean. I saw those rooms with my own two eyes.”
Resheda’s confident look began to falter. “And I’m sure you saw how clean they were,” she said, but without all the attitude.
“I saw the stained sheets you left on those beds,” Kari said. “I saw the dirty tub and showers where you didn’t even try to clean. I saw the dust. I saw the dirt. It was a shame what I saw! It was as if you walked into those rooms, and you walked your ass right back out. A couple rooms didn’t even have their beds made up, Ree!”
“I made those beds,” Resheda insisted.
“Those beds weren’t made, Resheda. Now don’t play with me.”
“I still say every one of those beds were made. That lady probably threw the covers off of them when she found out you were coming to investigate, just to spite me.”
Kari couldn’t believe she went there. “And did she put the dust and the dirt and the filth in those rooms too, to spite you?”
“She might have,” Resheda said.
“Yeah, right,” said Kari. “And I might have too. And Dez might have. And Peter, Paul, and Mary might have. Yeah. Sure. I’m going to have to let you go.”
Resheda’s look was less defiant and more fearful now. She needed that paycheck. “You believe her?” she asked. “How can you believe that cracker over me, after all I did for you, Kari?”
Kari frowned at Resheda. She spoke with disbelief in her voice. “After all you did for me? What your ass did for me?”
“I kept your business going. That’s what I did!”
“You what?” Kari stood on her feet. “Bitch when?”
“Many times!”
<
br /> “She’s delusional, Boss,” said Dezzamaine, Kari’s secretary.
“Bump you, black sambo!” Resheda shouted at Dez. “Ain’t nobody talking to you!”
But Kari was talking to Resheda. “You’re fired,” she said to her bluntly. She tried to let the girl down easy, but she had to go there? “Effective right now. You are fired! You may leave.”
Resheda stared at Kari, and then turned to leave. But then she turned back, leaned back, and huffed-up a big wad of spit that landed right on Kari’s face. “Fire that, bitch!” Resheda yelled, her face triumphant.
Kari didn’t fire it, but she jumped over her desk and, to Resheda’s total shock, grabbed Resheda by the hair and ran with her until she threw her against the wall. She then slapped her, backslapped her, and then grabbed her and dragged her and pushed her out of the exit door.
Dez stared at Kari. She’d never seen her that angry before. About damn time! “That’s how you tell a bitch,” she said as if she was fighting Resheda too.
But Kari couldn’t find the humor. She wiped the spit from her face with her shirt-sleeve, and then headed back to her desk. Tears wanted to appear in her eyes. She hated to be reduced to that kind of person. But she’d go there every time, if pushed.
Dez hurried to the window as Kari went back behind her desk.
“She’s gone?” Kari asked.
“Yeah, that witch gone. Talking about her lazy butt saved your company. The nerve!”
Kari’s cell phone began ringing. “Mail out her last check,” she said to Dez.
Dez was surprised. “Before Payroll?” she asked.
“Yes, now. I don’t want her butt in this office to pick up shit.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get right on it.”
Kari looked at her Caller ID, then answered her phone. “Hey, Benny, what’s up?”
It was Benny Church. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better. What’s up?”
“A lady who gets to the point this morning,” Benny said. “Okay, okay. I feel you. But listen, I’m calling because I was talking with a member of your security team.”
Kari was still reeling from the encounter with Resheda. She could barely concentrate on what Benny was telling her. “Right,” she said.
“Well, one of them, guy called Hawkeye, was telling me about that shooting earlier today.”
Shooting? That got Kari’s attention. “What shooting?” she asked.
“Okay, you don’t know? He thought I already knew because he assumed you had told me.”
Kari frowned. “What are you talking about, Benny? Told you what? And what shooting?”
Ben exhaled. “This is the deal. I got it secondhand, okay, so take that with a grain of salt. But this is the deal. It seems that somebody attempted to assassinate Alex in Munich today.”
Kari slowly stood to her feet. Her heart was hammering. “Assassinate?”
“He wasn’t hurt,” Benny quickly added. “He’s fine. Thank God. And he took out the shooter. But it was real close I’m hearing. Really close, Kari.”
Kari couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it! “I’ve got to . . . I’ve got to,” she started.
“No need to try to call him,” said Benny quickly. “I’ve tried already. His phone goes straight to Voice Mail. The word I’m getting is that he’s still being interrogated by the police, hours after the incident, and his cell phone is off. Word is also that his entire security detail, and I’m talking en masse, are frantically searching for whomever hired the shooter, and they aren’t answering phones either. It’s kind of tense there right now. Because it was such a close call.”
And Kari made a decision. Just like that. She made a decision! “Will you and Faye keep an eye on Jordan while I’m gone?” she asked him.
“You know we will. But where are you going?”
But Kari had already ended the call. She grabbed her purse, keys, and phone, and began hurrying for the exit.
“Contact the travel agent,” she said to Dez.
“Now?”
“Now!”
“Why?” Dez asked, although she was already picking up her desk phone. “What’s happened?”
“I need to catch the first thing smoking to Germany. To Munich. Get me a flight.”
“I’m on it,” Dez said. “But is everything okay?” She began pressing the relevant numbers on the desk phone. “Kari?”
But when she looked back up, Kari had already left the building.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Bavarian state police had been questioning Alex for nearly ten hours after the shootout. Although the police had set up a command center in one of the hotel’s banquet halls, and it was where many of Alex’s men, in addition to other witnesses, were being questioned, Alex was being held in the GM’s office, and being questioned privately there. But his options were limited: either cooperate with the investigation at the hotel or be taken to the police station and booked as a person of interest in the death of the unfortunate motorist.
He sat at the GM’s conference table, with his legs folded, staring at the two detectives across the table from him. There was an attorney present, some local expat, who advised Alex to agree to the interrogation rather than risk arrest on foreign soil. Not because of any concerns they had regarding his guilt in the killing of the gunman/motorist, but because this was Europe. The Drakos name was well known. His family’s mob ties could come back to bite him.
But although Alex agreed to be questioned for hours on end, his answers to varying degrees of the same question, did not change: the motorist had been in the hotel across the street and shot at him first. He shot back in self-defense.
“Okay, we are getting nowhere,” said the lead detective, who spoke English with a heavy German accent. “You say he shot at you first?”
“He did,” said Alex.
“But every witness so far says he was not shooting at you at all when he was on the street. It was you, they all say, who shot him as he was driving away, leading to him losing control and his untimely death.”
“They can say whatever they want to say,” said Alex, “but I’m telling you what happened.”
“Okay enough. Let’s stop beating around the bush. You are not new to this kind of upheaval, are you?”
“He’s not answering that,” the lawyer quickly said. Alex, for his part, just stared at the cop.
“Are you, Mr. Drakos?” the detective asked again.
“I said he’s not answering that question.”
“He will answer what we say he will answer,” said the second detective. “Or face arrest. That is how it works here.”
“Mr. Drakos, do you question our intelligence?” the lead detective asked. “You are the former head of the Drakos Crime Family, no?”
Alex’s jaw tightened. In America, his background, other than the womanizing part, was not readily known. But in Europe, it was very well-known, and very inaccurate. “No,” he said.
Both detectives looked at each other in shock, and then looked at Alex. “You are denying to our faces that you did not run the Drakos Crime Family?”
“I did not run it, no. My father ran it.”
“Your father?” the lead detective asked.
Alex didn’t answer that.
“How convenient,” the detective said.
But Alex continued to stare at the cops. His lawyer spoke up. “It’s been ten hours, guys. Mr. Drakos has been more than generous with his time. It’s time to wrap this up.” The lawyer would normally add, “either charge my client, or let him go.” But it was the charging part that they had to avoid. At all cost.
Fortunately, the lead detective concluded that Alex’s actions didn’t rise to murder. Because there was an equal amount of witnesses who were telling his men that the dead motorist fired many shots into the hotel where Alex was staying before a single shot rang out the opposite way.
The day-long interrogation was over. Alex was free to go.
As soon as Alex ex
ited the GM’s office and closed the door behind him, one of his security details, flanked by Belvins, his security chief while he was in Munich, entered the hotel’s lobby and headed for Alex. They’d been searching for background on that motorist the entire time Alex was in interrogation.
But the GM and Vice President of the hotel quickly cut them off to get to Alex first. “Is everything alright, Mr. Drakos?” asked the GM. “We cannot believe they kept you for such an unconscionable length of time.”
“I’m okay,” said Alex. “Thank you.” His men arrived at his side. “But if you will excuse me?”
“I dismissed the housekeeping supervisor for today,” said the VP. “Unless you still want to take that tour?”
“Tomorrow,” Alex said with a smile. “Excuse me.”
“Yes, sir,” said the VP, and then he and the GM gladly left Alex to his own devices.
“They ask about a tour,” said Belvins, “at a time like this?”
What did you find out?” Alex asked. “Did you get the cameras?”
“Every one of them from every business in this area,” replied his chief. “And we didn’t even have to pay that much.”
“You identified the shooter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is he?”
“Wilham Steed.”
“Steed? Is he mob?”
“He’s mob,” said the chief, nodding his head. “And he’s a local. But he doesn’t work for a crime family. He works for one man: Max Rogan, the consigliere of the Heinrich Crime Family. However, the information we have is that the Heinrich leadership knew nothing about that particular hire.”
“Where’s Rogan now? Have you been able to track him down?”
The chief smiled. “We have. We have surveillance on his ass right now.”
Alex felt relieved. The not-knowing was the part of this business that always drove him nuts. He began heading for the exit, with his security detail following. “Where?” he asked Belvins.
“At a hideaway in Kirchheim.”
Kirchheim Unter Teck was a two-hour drive from Munich, and the hideaway under surveillance was even further away. And when they arrived at the backwoods shelter, they had to park their vans at a distance some 4.8 kilometers out of sight, with a foot crew closer. Then they had to wait until the lights were out and it appeared the resident had finally gone asleep, before Alex, Belvins, and the main crew made the trek through the thick woods up to the shack.
Alex Drakos 3_What They Did For Love Page 9
