“You know how it is. If you didn’t want him, there’d be no Q&A. But you need him, so of course today of all days, they want to ask all the tedious questions. But he shouldn’t be much longer. He knows we need him down there. As soon as he and the team can get away, they will. It’s only 14 kilometres and they’ll do that at speed. If it’s any consolation, the local colleagues have been in place. No alarms.”
“At least that’s something. Thanks, Pappi.”
“So what’s the story?” Carey Bloomfield asked, as Müller put his phone away. “And what was that about me and the diet-freak bimbo?”
They were now close to the schlosshotel, and the Porsche cruised along the tree-lined country lane that led to it. Carey Bloomfield had settled down nicely with the car.
“No bimbo, she,” Müller replied.
“What do you mean?”
“Your ‘bimbo’, Miss Bloomfield, is a many-aliased professional killer.”
“What? No way!”
“Eyes on the road, please. Both Pappi’s contact, and Grogan, have confirmed it. Separately.”
“Sweet…Jesus. That stick insect?”
“She may look like one, but her instincts are those of a praying mantis. It certainly looks as if she sent Adams on his way, after first enjoying him.”
She shook her head in astonishment. “Toby Adams gets taken like this? A killer is planted on him, and he didn’t know? Adams is…was a top veteran.”
“We all have our blind side. Adams was clearly no exception, and he got taken. It happens.”
“He fell for her?”
“It seems like it.”
“But she’s not his type.”
“Does that upset you?”
“What a dumb question, Müller…”
“Watch the road!”
“What a dumb question,” she repeated. “Of course it doesn’t upset me. I’m just surprised he went for her. So unprofessional.”
“As I’ve just said, we all have our blind spots. It’s possible he did find himself sexually attracted to her, even though he might have had no real feelings for her.”
“Are you like that, Müller?”
“Watch the road! Please. It narrows from here, and it’s two-way traffic. There are many bends on this road. A car can be on you before you realise it. And don’t switch this to me.”
She gave a brief little chuckle. “We’re arguing like an old couple, Müller. You know that?”
“We’re not arguing,” he said, scanning the lane for oncoming traffic.
“Sure. So Adams couldn’t keep his zip closed, and gets killed for his pains?”
“It’s rather more than that. The bimbo has dual nationality – German, and American. She is also a member of The Semper, or is its employee, at the very least. And don’t look at me. Look at the road. The road!”
“Jesus, Müller. Ease up. I’m not going to ding your car…”
“Car!” Müller shouted.
Carey Bloomfield hit the brakes harder than she had intended. The Porsche came to an abrupt halt with a sharp squeal, and felt as if it was trying to stand on its nose.
“Oops!” she said. “Sorry.”
The other car was still some distance away and there was plenty of time for the two to pass without incident.
“Do you want to change seats?” she offered tentatively.
“No.”
“Glutton for punishment?”
“I must be.”
“So skinny Mary-Ann - or whatever her name is,” Carey Bloomfield went on, hiding a smile, “turns out to be a pro killer. Why would they set one of their own, on one of their own?”
“Perhaps he upset someone. Whatever the reason, you are the one being framed for the deed. And with the zip thing, you’re the praying mantis your own people will be hunting.”
“Great. I always wanted to be a praying mantis in my next life.”
“She may not be the only Semper in there. If so, they will ensure that the bimbo never comes under suspicion. And, she may come after you too.”
“Oh it just gets better and better.”
The classic lines of the schlosshotel came into view.
“And here we are,” Carey Bloomfield went on. “Safe and sound.”
“Safe for now, perhaps,” Müller said. He looked about the car, as if searching out blemishes. “Sound I’d leave for later.”
“Lighten up, Müller. I drove well.”
He gave a brief smile. “You drove well.”
“There you go. Do I get another try?”
“Don’t push it.”
Six
Schlosshotel Derrenberg.
The fat wheels of the Porsche crunched along the drive which curved its way through the magnificent grounds of the beautifully restored mansion. Carey Bloomfield brought the car to a sedate halt, a short distance from the entrance to the hotel wing of the building.
“Mmm,” she said. “I hate to leave this seat.”
“So do I,” Müller said.
“I get the message,” she said. “You’re never going to let me touch this wheel again.”
“I did not say that.”
“You said don’t push it.”
“I certainly did.”
“That sounds like a ‘no’ to me.”
“You’re a professional. Don’t read into a comment what isn’t there.”
“Word games, Müller.”
“Fact. Now smile as you get out. Here are Aunt Isolde, and Greville.”
“Yes, sir.”
They climbed out as Aunt Isolde, tall and elegant, accompanied by Greville, reached them. Greville, complexion made dark by decades of Middle Eastern sun, in his inevitable white suit and wide-brimmed hat, smiled when he saw Carey Bloomfield.
Aunt Isolde greeted her with a warm embrace. “So good to see you again, my dear,” she said in English. “Your old room is ready, and waiting.”
“Hi, Aunt Isolde. Good to see you too.”
Greville doffed his hat. “Miss Bloomfield. I have heard so much about you.” He offered his hand.
“All good, I hope,” she said as she took it.
“All absolutely good. Jens has nothing but praise.”
“Has he? That’s news.”
“Ah. I detect a slight barb.” Greville smiled. “Only to be expected, and confirms my initial prognosis.”
“Which is?”
“Now that, would be telling.”
Müller stood a little to one side, watching all this with some amusement. “You can let go of her hand now, Greville,” he said.
“My dear Jens,” Greville said. “Good to see you again, old boy. “ He grabbed Müller by an upper arm, and led him slightly away. “My word,” he continued, voice lowered. “She is a beauty! Done all right there, what? Gratifying to see at last, the face to that name.”
“Greville,” Müller said, “you’re an old Rogue.”
“Of course, old boy. Shameless about it. A pretty face like that. Reminds me of what it was like with Isolde. Fell like a ton of bricks. Still falling.” Greville’s smile was full of wonder. “All these years, and she’s as fresh to me as that first day. Same with you, I suspect. Though you won’t admit it.” Greville lowered his voice still further. “Word to the wise, old boy. Learn from my experience. We don’t all get a second chance. I was very lucky.”
“Lucky? With what you’re carrying?”
“Small price. I got to see her again. Never thought I would.”
Müller looked at him, searching for evidence of the onset of his DNA nemesis. “And how is it doing?”
“My own, bespoke DNA poison? Working its way through as usual, but there have been no alarms. Assume it’s still biding its time. Fiendish thing. Meanwhile, I make the most of my own time with Isolde. So how goes it in the big bad world?”
“As bad as ever.”
“The Semper?”
“Among others, yes.”
“So things have hotted up since our little jaunt in May?”
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Greville, perhaps because of his decades-long absence from England, tended to speak a in blend of fifties accents, interwoven with expat slang, and more modern rhythms that had worked their way up the last century.
“They have,” Müller told him. “I’m getting closer to those responsible for what happened to my parents.”
“Good show!”
“But, there’s a price…which seems to be getting higher.”
“There always is, old boy. Always is. What, precisely?”
“They made an attempt on Miss Bloomfield this morning.”
“Good…Lord!” Greville shot a quick glance in Carey Bloomfield’s direction.
Engrossed in conversation with Aunt Isolde, she did not spot it. Both were laughing at something Carey Bloomfield had said.
“So after what happened with your chum Pappenheim, they’re raising the stakes.”
“Or getting desperate.”
“A wounded tiger is always the worst. It won’t get better, old son.”
“I don’t expect it to.”
“Realistic. Good.”
“I found the man who wrote that scurrilous editorial,” Müller went on.
“And?”
“He killed himself.”
“Before? Or after you found him?”
“After.”
“You must have terrified him.”
“He terrified himself. When he first saw me, an air of resignation came over him. He said he’d been expecting me for years.”
“Guilt. The bugger. Serves him right.”
“From what we learned before he blew his brains out, it seems he had been instructed by The Semper. He even said they had hoped to recruit me.” Müller spoke with disgust. “They had the gall to consider it, after what they had done.”
“New blood, old boy. You can only keep a thing like that going with new blood. They have planned for a long future.”
“Not if I can help it. Do you remember your saying something to me about an American during your time in the Middle East?”
“I do remember. I believe I was recounting an odd tale of convenient allies. I think I said something to the order of: ‘once teamed up with an East German who previously had been my mortal enemy. We allied ourselves with an American, to eliminate some privateers. People who did it for the money’. Something like that.”
“That’s exactly how I remember it. Good memory, Greville.”
Greville’s smile was fleeting, and carried memories with it. “Saved my bacon on more than one occasion, I can tell you. And what about this American? He was very young at the time, mark you.”
“Then it fits. I believe he was the same man who was Miss Bloomfield’s controller in the field.”
Greville had eyes that looked into a great distance. They studied Müller with an unnerving directness. “I know there’s more coming.”
“It would seem that this man, Adams, was also with The Semper.”
“He compromised her?”
“I believe he planned to either betray her one day or in time, have her killed.”
“And you believe he tried today?”
Müller shook his head. “For some reason, I think not. I have the strangest feeling this morning’s incident was a screw-up. She went to see him…”
“She went?”
“She was not a very pleased woman.”
“I can imagine.”
“But she told me,” Müller said, “he seemed genuinely surprised. It does not mean he wasn’t planning to.”
“How did you find out he was with The Semper?”
“In a way, it was she who found out. We were looking at the photographs my father left. She spotted Adams in one.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Greville said in wonder. “On such small things. You father did sterling service, old boy. He gave you a potent weapon. If they ever found out…”
“They won’t. And I’ll use it against them in ways they will not expect. There’s one other thing that editor Vogel, mentioned. He talked of a colonel. At first I thought he meant Miss Bloomfield…”
“She outranks me?”
“She outranks you, Major, retired. She’s a lieutenant-colonel.”
“Ah. The make them so young these days. Do go on, old chum.”
“He was not talking about her. In fact, he was quite astonished to see a woman. I had the feeling that perhaps they got the rank wrong, and really meant you.”
“We both know they tried to get me last May, but…”
“You two!” came Aunt Isolde’s voice. “Stop gossiping. Let’s go in.”
“I don’t think…Vogel, was it?”
Müller nodded.
“I don’t think Vogel meant my good self,” Greville finished in a hurried whisper.
“Then we’ll just have to see.”
“Forewarned, eh?”
“Exactly.”
They halted their conversation. Aunt Isolde and Carey Bloomfield were approaching.
“It’s rude to whisper among yourselves, in company,” Aunt Isolde scolded them with a smile.
“You two were laughing about something,” Müller countered.
“Ah yes. Carey was telling me all about her little drive in your car. Panicked you, did she?”
Müller gave Carey Bloomfield a neutral stare. “I was not panicked.”
“You were hanging on to the door handle.”
“I was…”
Whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by the arrival of a white, luxury minibus, with the hotel logo on its flanks.
“We’ve got a convention booked in,” Aunt Isolde explained as they turned to look. “Japanese. They’ve taken the entire hotel wing. Some of them have booked the bus for a trip into the Thüringer Wald. They’ll be gone for a couple of days.”
“What kind of convention?” Müller asked.
“They’re scientists.”
“And their field?”
It was Greville who answered. “Genetics.” He sounded amused.
Müller was about to turn to Greville when the guests for the minibus began to come out. They milled around for a second or so, then one of them spotted the Porsche. He turned to a colleague, spoke excitedly and within moments, a group of them had surrounded the car, eagerly studying it. This went on for several minutes.
“Anyone spot something unusual?” Carey Bloomfield asked.
“Like what?” Müller demanded.
“Cameras. No cameras. Shouldn’t they be snapping away at your Porsche, Müller?”
“Surely, you don’t go in for that old cliché about the Japanese and their cameras when abroad? Besides, these are not tourists.”
The admiring group reluctantly left the car and boarded their bus.
“Seems I wasn’t so wrong, after all,” Carey Bloomfield said, as the bus left. “Someone just took a picture.”
Müller turned to follow its progress down the drive. “Of the car?”
“No. Of us.”
Müller stared after the bus until it had disappeared. “Are you certain?”
“Positive,” she replied. “I would not make a mistake like that.”
“Why us?” Aunt Isolde asked. “There’s nothing special about us.”
Müller glanced at Greville, whose eyes telegraphed a message Müller quickly understood.
“Tell you what, Aunt Isolde, why don’t you and Greville take the Mercedes up to Berlin tomorrow? Stay at the apartment for a few days. We’re not going back to Berlin tomorrow. We’ll be gone some days ourselves, so it’s all yours. What do you say, Greville?”
“Not a bad idea…”
“But we can’t,” Aunt Isolde began to protest. “The hotel…”
“Practically runs itself,” Müller cut in. “You’ve got such good staff, they can virtually do everything in their sleep. Tell her, Greville.”
“He does have a point, my dear,” Greville said to Aunt Isolde. “And you know how - if anybody does - what he’s like when he has a point.
The hotel can run by itself.”
“Sounds like a conspiracy to me,” she said.
Both looked at her innocently. “Conspiracy?” they said together.
Carey Bloomfield took her own cue. “Aunt Isolde, why don’t you re-acquaint me with that beautiful room overlooking the stream?”
The stream, a tributary of the river Saale that could, in heavy rainfall, turn into a raging torrent, meandered its way across the huge grounds and passed directly beneath the window of the room in question. The stream was a much-admired feature of the Derrenberg.
Arm in arm, she led Aunt Isolde away.
The Derrenberg’s central section and its right wing, housed the hotel. The left wing was used exclusively as the owner’s residence.
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