Look-Alike

by Meredith Fletcher

  Someone had tied him to a chair. His hands were numb behind him.

  “Joachim,” Günter called.

  Focusing on the hulking figure in front of him, Joachim shook his head in an effort to wake up more. That was a mistake. His skull suddenly felt as if it were going to splinter.

  After a moment, Joachim realized where they were. Although he hadn’t been there often, there was no way he could forget the basement of Sunbright Cleaners. The Laundromat was one of Günter’s legitimate businesses. It also had open access to Leipzig’s sewers. The new pollution standards hadn’t caught up to the entire city. Joachim had been there the night Günter had taken an ax to an ex-lover and tossed her body into the sewer.

  The basement air was stale and dank with mold. The stench of detergents and bleach clung to the walls. During the day, when the big industrial-size machines grinded and whirled, conversation was almost impossible. On the plus side, no one could hear screams or cries for help, or the gunshots that ended, either.

  “Are you awake this time?” Günter demanded. He sat in a straight-backed wooden chair. He looked pallid in the weak fluorescent light.

  “Yes.” Joachim’s tongue was dry and thick. Warm blood ran down his chin.

  “Good. Because we’ve got some things to discuss.” Günter leaned forward. His cigar glowed violent orange, then he breathed out a plume of blue-gray smoke that coiled against Joachim’s face. “Why did you sell me out?”

  “You gave me no choice,” Joachim said.

  “Me?” Günter’s eyes widened in surprise. “What the hell did I do?”

  “You sent me after Leitner last year.”

  “Jacob Leitner stole from me.” The man had been an accountant for some of Günter’s enterprises. During his tenure, he’d stolen over ten million dollars. Günter had caught the man a step after he was gone. Joachim had tracked him down before he could get out of Berlin.

  “Leitner was one of theirs,” Joachim said. “He belonged to the BND.”

  “An agent?”

  “An informant.”

  “Like you.” Günter sneered.

  “The BND squeezed me,” Joachim said, “because you didn’t catch your mistake soon enough. They saw me kill Leitner.”

  At the time, though, Joachim had been acting in self-defense. Leitner had resisted Joachim’s efforts to take him alive and had pulled a pistol he’d never before carried.

  “You could have come to me,” Günter said.

  “And gone down with you?” Joachim shook his head and regretted it.

  “Law enforcement agencies have been after me for over twenty years,” Günter said defiantly. “They haven’t put me down yet.”

  “They will. You’re too big to simply slip away. You’ve gotten more greedy than you should have.”

  Günter backhanded Joachim, rocking his head back on his shoulders.

  “I won’t tolerate disrespect,” Günter said when Joachim’s head stopped reeling.

  Joachim said nothing.

  “If the police or the BND could have gotten me,” Günter stated proudly, “they would have done it a long time ago. Nothing sticks to me. They can take down some of my operations, sure, but they can’t touch me.” He puffed on the cigar. “If you had come to me, Joachim, I could have gotten them off you as well.”

  Quietly, Joachim thought about all the violence and killing he’d done at Günter’s instruction. Joachim had never killed an innocent man or woman. He hadn’t wanted the BND off him; he’d wanted a way out and away from Günter that would leave his family protected. The only way to do that was to be part of a successful effort to bring Günter down.

  “Ah well, it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” Günter asked. “Your friends at the BND no longer trust you without your sponsor standing for you.”

  Realization flashed into Joachim’s mind. “You killed Schultz.”

  Bringing up his leg to rest on top of the other, Günter rounded his cigar ash on his heel. “I had him killed, yes. I also knew you would be blamed. In case there was any doubt, I had informants advance the theory that you set Schultz up for the assassination. After all, your message was found on his answering service.”

  “Why didn’t you kill me?”

  “Because,” Günter said, smiling, “I still have a use for you. I only needed to sever your connections to the BND.” He paused. “I have.”

  Joachim stared into the eyes of the man who had been like a father to him. He had no doubt that Günter would kill him if he chose to.

  “Amsterdam cost me business,” Günter said. “The woman has evidently elected to pull back her offer. However, I know what she wants. You can’t stay alive in a business like mine and not learn things.”

  Joachim waited. Günter had a use for him. As long as that was true, he would live. Staying alive meant he had time to think and plan. Günter was not infallible.

  “She wanted Tuenis Meijer because of his connection to a blackmailer. A person whom I had believed to be a myth. The woman I’m dealing with wants Beck’s employer, a man this blackmailer is supposed to be pressuring.”

  “Why?” Joachim asked.

  “According to the myth, this blackmailer has been quietly spinning devious little webs for years, snaring and releasing information that has built and toppled careers and kingpins. All for a price.” Günter lifted an eyebrow. “A list like that would be worth millions. Maybe billions. On regular installment plans. It would make a nice retirement plan in exchange for the business you are going to cost me.” He smiled. “That’s worth killing for.”

  Joachim waited quietly, not daring to think a minute into the future.

  “I have to admit, until I started dealing with the woman and found out all the resources she had, I hadn’t believed the blackmail myth, either.” Günter shook his head. “No one could possibly have the amount of information the blackmailer is supposed to have.” He took a drag on his cigar and smiled. “Remember the pretty blonde you ran into in Amsterdam who was searching for Tuenis Meijer?”

  Joachim’s thoughts flew to Elle. Staring death in the face, he couldn’t help feeling angry and frustrated that they’d never see each other again.

  “I identified her through an associate,” Günter said. “She was part of a CIA task force that took down Konrad Steiner.”

  Joachim remembered that. For a time Günter had been concerned the fallout from that operation would affect him. Günter had maintained a few dealings with Steiner.

  “Her name is Samantha St. John,” Günter continued.

  Sam, Joachim thought.

  “I assume the other woman you mentioned was her sister,” Günter said. “St. John was a graduate of Athena Academy for the Advancement of Women. Are you familiar with it?”

  “No,” Joachim replied truthfully.

  Günter nodded. “Neither was I. However, it appears Tuenis Meijer was somehow connected to Marion Gracelyn. Have you heard of her?”

  Joachim shook his head automatically. The pain wasn’t as severe this time.

  “She was a United States senator,” Günter said, “and she was largely responsible for the creation of the Athena Academy. I’m willing to wager that St. John knew Marion Gracelyn.”

  You’ve been busy. Joachim was amazed. Günter had put considerable time and money into digging up information. But, of course, he was looking for a big payoff.

  “Gracelyn was murdered years ago,” Günter said. “Her murderer was only recently caught, but her name came up in connection with the blackmailer.”

  “The senator was being blackmailed by this mythical person?”

  “According to the information I’ve received, her name was on the list.”

  “Why was St. John after Meijer?”

  Günter grinned. “Because Meijer supposedly worked with the blackmailer.”

  Joachim was quiet, trying to put it all together in his head despite the painful throbs that kept erupting. “The woman you were talking to is looking for this mythical blackmailer?
”

  “I believe so.”

  “You intend to find out the identity of the blackmailer and give it to her.”

  Günter nodded, smiling like a teacher pleased with a prized pupil. “Or, if I’m able, use the information myself to establish an alternate revenue stream. Your compliance with the BND is going to cost me. I don’t know how much yet, so I choose to be prepared. I’m already moving assets out of the country.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Find Beck. Someone employed him to kill Meijer. When you find Beck, I want you to find his employer. Once we have him, we can find out the identity of the person blackmailing him.”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t know.”

  “And perhaps Beck will know the blackmailer’s name and you won’t have to go any further than that.”

  Joachim thought about that, realizing it was true. Whoever employed Beck trusted him. Maybe the employer had told Beck the identity of the blackmailer.

  “Don’t think that you can run after I release you,” Günter cautioned. His eyes took on a hard, cold gleam. “I won’t go after you, Joachim. I’ll go after your family. And I’ll get them. You can’t take them far enough or fast enough.” He paused. “I’ll get you when you come for me, when you have no other reason to live.”

  Sickness twisted through Joachim’s stomach.

  “Do we have an understanding?” Günter asked.

  “Yes,” Joachim answered, knowing he had no choice.

  “Good.” Günter stood. “These men have been given instructions to release you after I’m gone. They’ll give you papers under another name and safe passage to Prague. After that, you’re on your own.”

  “Where do I find Beck?” Joachim asked.

  “Greece.”

  “What makes you think Beck is there?”

  “Because I know Beck,” Günter said. “From the old days. We’ve got a score to settle. Both of us have stayed away from it, but now it’s time. He’s often at Mykonos Town on the island of Mykonos.”

  “How do you know he’s there?”

  Günter winked but there was no mirth in the effort. “Maybe you pulled the wool over my eyes for a while, kiddo, but I know a lot more than you do. I know Beck. He has certain…‘appetites’ that haven’t changed. Once you know a man’s appetites, you know the man.” He fixed Joachim with his cold, harsh gaze. “I know you, too, Joachim. You’ve done everything for your family. You can’t run out on them. And if you do, I’ll kill them. I know that about you, and you know that about me.”

  Knowing Günter wouldn’t leave until he admitted it, Joachim said, “Yes. I do.”

  “Then we have an agreement. Stay in touch. You’ll be given numbers.” Günter turned and walked up the stairs leading to the first floor. “Wait an hour. Then get him to Prague and set him free.” He paused at the door and looked back. “Joachim, don’t let me down. Don’t let your family down. We’re all depending on you.”

  Joachim sat quietly in the chair. He struggled to keep a grip on the fear that raged through him, but it was a losing battle. The clock was working against him. He needed to be out and running, hunting down Beck.

  Breathing in, Joachim centered himself and held on.

  Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport

  Phoenix, Arizona

  Until she saw the Athens Police Department patrol car in the parking lot, Sam kept hoping that everything she’d learned in the past two hours had been a bad dream.

  “There,” Riley said, pointing. He sat in the Athena jeep’s passenger’s seat.

  “I see it,” Sam snapped, cutting the wheel to drive toward the cruiser.

  That morning Sam had gotten up and found out Elle hadn’t come home.

  Sam pulled the jeep to a halt behind the cruiser. She released a pent-up breath. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “No prob,” Riley said.

  Gripping the steering wheel in both hands, Sam wanted to bang her head against it. “This is my fault.”

  Riley dropped a big hand across Sam’s shoulder. Normally his touch would have been welcome. Even after an all-night session like last night. Most of the time, Sam was pleased and surprised to discover that she never grew tired of his touch.

  Now she shrugged his hand off. “Don’t,” she said.

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  “I should have been there for her.”

  “You were.”

  “I wasn’t last night.” Sam felt confusion looping through her stomach like razor wire.

  “She chose to go alone,” Riley said.

  “We weren’t…exactly open to company. She was being polite.”

  “No.” Riley talked calmly. “She’d already made up her mind to leave.”

  Sam looked at him. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because she left.”

  Anger sparked inside Sam. Sometimes the calm, self-assured way Riley handled things annoyed her. On other days, like now, the annoyance rose to honest irritation. Riley McLane does not know everything.

  “If she was planning on leaving, she would have taken her things,” Sam insisted.

  “If she’d taken her things, don’t you think that might have been a tip-off to you? Not taking her things was just proof that you weren’t supposed to know.”

  Sam ground her teeth. He was right. This was one of those instances when she hated that.

  Riley sighed. “To give you—and her—the benefit of the doubt, maybe she didn’t plan on leaving last night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe she was told after the fact. While she was making the phone call to Russia.”

  Sam stared at the police cruiser. The officer watching over the Mercedes Elle was suspected of stealing from Bogart’s had turned his attention to Riley and Sam’s Athena jeep. He clicked the walkie-talkie clipped onto his shoulder and spoke briefly.

  They knew about the phone call to the Russian embassy because Allison had managed to pull the phone records. After Kayla had mentioned that she’d seen Elle at the convenience store, checking the outgoing calls had been common sense.

  Elle left last night so she could use the phone, Sam knew. She called to check in, and to get orders. Seated quietly behind the jeep’s steering wheel, Sam wanted to scream. She forced herself to be calm.

  “She’s all right,” Riley said.

  “How do you know that?” Sam demanded.

  “Because I’ve seen her in action. Elle’s good. One of the best field agents I’ve ever worked with.”

  “You only worked with her once.” That had been on the joint operation to save Sam from the Cipher.

  “Once is all it takes sometimes,” Riley replied. “And I’ve seen her files. She’s one of the best a lot of people have ever seen and/or worked with. If something happened to her, a lot of evidence would have been left behind.”

  Sam took a little solace from that. Riley wouldn’t offer her platitudes. He knew better than that. “Then where has she gone?”

  Riley shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

  Watching him, Sam knew how much she loved him. She felt it resonate through her. Over the past year, the emotion had gotten so big it seemed to fill her to bursting. She couldn’t remember how it had felt not to love him. And if that love were ever taken away, how much of her would be left? That scared her.

  Don’t go there, Sam told herself. Elle leaving so unexpectedly has triggered that fear in you. That’s all. You’re just rewinding those old tapes from all those foster homes. Focus on what is in front of you. Deal with that. She worked to concentrate on what Riley was saying.

  “—went wherever they told her to,” Riley told Sam.

  “But where would they send her?” Sam persisted.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why send her now?”

  “Something could have come up that doesn’t have anything to do with this. Or with you.”

  Sam thought about that for a moment, then
shook her head. “No. If that had happened, she’d have said goodbye.” She paused. “She left because of something that happened here.”

  “Elle didn’t know about the nerve toxin until she got here?”

  Sam shook her head.

  “Lenin’s Lullaby never surfaced,” Riley said. “The Agency thought maybe it was all blue smoke and mirrors. A rumor without substance. Maybe Russian intelligence felt the same way.”

  “My parents were killed because of that nerve toxin.” Sam kept her voice flat.

  “Maybe they were killed because it never existed,” Riley said. “You’ve got to remember the time, Sam. Russia was in turmoil. The whole country was about to fall apart. The cold war had pressed the Communist government past its financial ability to keep up. The Agency was following up on Lenin’s Lullaby, trying to find it, but what if your parents were just playing a part?”

  “Creating a diversion?”

  “Dividing manpower out in the field is always a chief directive when you’re wanting to find out what the opposition is up to. If you run an operation thin, it gets ragged, more exposed.”

  “But why were my parents killed?”

  “It could have been revenge. Maybe it was a scam run by Russian intelligence. Maybe this guy Stryker had a buyer who fronted half the money. Things like that have happened.”

  “Then why would the SVR call Elle in?”

  “I don’t have a clue, Sam,” Riley admitted.

  Dissatisfied, Sam got out of the jeep and met the uniformed police officer.

  “This is a restricted area, ma’am,” the policeman said.

  Sam flipped out her CIA ID. “Yes,” she agreed, “it is.”

  He took in the ID behind his mirrored sunglasses. “Agent St. John,” he said, “until I hear otherwise from the chief, this is our crime scene.”

  Before Sam’s anger got away from her, Kayla Ryan drove up in a cruiser. She wore her uniform and sunglasses. As she got out of her car, she took in the situation at a glance.

  “Stand down, Tony,” Kayla said.

  “Yes, ma’am. The CSIs are on their way over.”

  “I heard.” Kayla pulled out a pad and briefly consulted her notes as she peered as the Mercedes’s license plate. “This is the stolen vehicle.” She looked at Sam. “Your sister as good at the spy biz as you?”