“You know it.” Faust smiled.
Major Beck looked over the file, and then handed it over to the mercenary behind him. That man was huge with a shaved head and several visible tattoos on his neck. “Find a copy machine at the nurses’ station and make a copy for everyone. No one comes onto this floor except those on the list. If anyone else tries, apprehend them and bring them to me.”
The man nodded, taking the file and walking down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Beck addressed the remaining four. “You two take up post by the elevators. And Voigt and Graf, you two take first shift guarding this door.” He pointed at Therese Faust’s room. “Stein and I will be here across the hall,” he pointed to the empty room opposite, “and we’ll relieve you at 0700. Twelve hour shifts, gentlemen, until I inform you otherwise. Get to it.” Beck returned his attention to Faust. “I expect you will keep me up to date?”
“Of course. And I’ll have Jasper bring in meals for your men as well.”
“That’s appreciated, thank you. What else can I do to help?”
“I need as much information as possible on Captain Rolf Rheinhardt, both his service information and civilian. I cannot go through usual police channels for this right now. The captain is compromised, and I don’t know how far up this goes,” Faust explained.
Beck nodded. “Understood.”
“I need to know who he knows, who he might be in contact with, and anything at all that might connect him to Edith Meyer Hoffmann, Solomon Hoffmann or Gunter Meyer.”
“On it. I’ll contact you as soon as I find anything.” Beck waited, ever the soldier, even in his current civilian state.
“Oh, sorry. Carry on, Major.” Faust dismissed the man, noticeably unfamiliar with being at the top of any chain of command, and yet, until that moment when he was made aware, fell into the role naturally.
Heinz noticed, but kept the observation to himself. “And now what do you want to do?”
Faust looked him in the eye. “Now, we go to Gunter Meyer’s home, and from there, we’ll search Rheinhardt’s.”
“Without a search warrant?” Heinz was surprised.
“One is dead and the other is missing. We don’t have time for a warrant, and notifying a judge for the need would invite too many questions and possibly alert the one who threatened my family. Until we know what we’re dealing with, we’re on our own, Joseph.”
“What about the Americans?”
“I don’t trust them. They still haven’t even explained why they’re involved.” Faust shook his head. “An act of war, they said. What the hell does this have to do with the American CIA anyhow? Hoffmann came here to Berlin, not to the United States. If an act of war has been committed, it’s against Germany, not the U.S. No,” he chewed the inside of his cheek, “no, Joseph. I don’t trust them at all, and I can’t involve Captain Schneider. There’s no way to know who is watching me, who all the players are. If Captain Rheinhardt is involved, he has information. If he’s not actively complicit, then he may be being used by the Russians which could mean he’s infected, has been infected by them somehow, and if that’s the case, we don’t have a lot of time. Agent Miller said the virus hadn’t fully matured, was still in some sort of incubation period, but once that passes, it will go airborne. We need to find Rheinhardt. I won’t be responsible for more people dying.”
“What will you tell Helga?” Heinz glanced at the door to Therese’s room.
“As little as possible. I have my pager. She can contact me at any time.”
Joseph nodded. “Scheisse. Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go break into a few homes.”
Herman led the way. “Indeed.”
***
The small house in Steglitz sat at the end of a row on a corner lot. A cobblestone street ran along the northern side separating the brick Bavarian-styled cottage from dark green forested area growing wild on land designated as a conservation site. The lane dead-ended a half block down in a turnaround. It was the best point of entry for would-be burglars since there was no one on that side to witness such activity. Faust directed Joseph to part just off the turnaround in the dirt along the shoulder.
“Nice house,” said Heinz. “What did he do again?”
“He was a banker.” Faust checked his sidearm before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a rolled up cloth.
“Figures,” he replied. Faust grunted his agreement. Joseph glanced down at the cloth. “What’s in there?”
Herman unrolled the beige cloth revealing small picks of various size, an old credit card, and several keys. “A lock pickers must-haves.”
“And where the hell did you get those? Are you keeping something from me? A secret life as a cat burglar?”
Faust snorted. “Hardly, but in our line of work, we pick up all kinds of tips from the criminals we arrest.”
“True. The best way to thwart a criminal...”
“Is to learn how to think like a criminal.” Faust finished Joseph’s sentence. “It’s not like I’m going to be moonlighting on my off nights burglarizing homes.”
“Just tonight.” Joseph eyed him.
“Exactly. Just tonight, and to save lives, beginning with my own family’s.” Faust rolled the tools back up and shoved them into his coat pocket. Outside, the wind picked up, scattering light snowflakes on the ground. A front was moving in bringing arctic air and freezing wind chills expected by the morning.
Heinz put his car keys into his own pocket and stepped out, locking the door. The cold wind whipped his face. He pulled a knit skull cap down onto his head, covering his ears. With his dark overcoat on, no one would see the police uniform beneath. He knew he was supposed to be patrolling, but what his own captain didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He wasn’t far from his zone and could keep in contact as needed via his police radio. As a precaution, he turned the volume down. The last thing either of them needed was unwanted attention.
They walked silently up the dark lane. The silence was interrupted only by the howling of the wind and rattling of the dead leaves still clinging to a few of the otherwise bare branches in the trees. It was an unsettling quiet, more so because both knew the consequences of what they were about to do, the crime they would be committing. Two police officers were about to break into the home of a dead man.
“There,” Faust whispered, pointing.
Heinz looked at the first floor window. It was located near the back of the house, facing the woods. Up close, it looked to be the window of a small study or reading room.
“Is it unlocked?” Faust asked.
Heinz gave it a tug, but it did not give.
“Let’s look around back.” Both tip-toed through the dead grass. It was overgrown and crunched beneath their feet, sounding louder in their ears than necessary.
“There’s a back door,” Heinz noted. He kept to the wall in the shadows. “Think you can pick the lock?”
Faust pulled out his tools. “I guess we’re going to find out.” He unrolled the cloth and chose first one of the skeleton keys. Slipping it into the slot, he gave the doorknob a turn. Nothing. It remained locked in place.
“Here, try this one.” Heinz handed him the next of three keys. Faust tried them one by one, none of which worked.
“It would’ve been too easy, I suppose,” Faust mumbled. “Hand me the small pick and the credit card.”
Heinz complied, taking the last key and switching it out for the requested items. “Good luck.”
Faust looked over his shoulder at Joseph, one eyebrow raised.
“What?” Heinz asked. “What am I supposed to say? Break a leg?”
A soft snort answered him. “Next thing you’ll be breaking out your pom poms and performing a cheer.”
“Fuck off, and hurry up. It’s damned cold out here.” Heinz looked around them, making sure they were still alone, still unnoticed.
“Stop complaining, woman.” Faust admonished, working the pick inside the lock and jimmying the credit card into the minuscule space between t
he door and the jamb. A loud click popped in the night air. Faust smiled as Joseph tensed, freezing in place. He glanced around again as Faust slowly pulled the door open.
Heinz breathed a sigh of relief. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”
Faust chuckled low, rising to his feet and slipping inside. “You dared doubt?”
Joseph followed, closing the door behind them. “Never again. Your criminal status is now sealed and forever legend as far as I’m concerned.”
The silence inside the house engulfed them. A faint mustiness greeted their noses. The air inside had grown stale with no one there to stir it up with his comings and goings. The police had been in briefly the day before, moving items around and leaving cabinets and closets open. They would return in the oncoming weeks to tear the place apart as more of Meyer’s involvement in bringing in a biological weapon was revealed. But tonight, it was just Herman and Joseph, two pawns in a deadly ongoing game of war served up cold.
“I’ll take the first floor. You take the second.” Faust pointed to the staircase. Heinz nodded and made his way up by the dim light filtering in through the window shades.
Herman walked through the kitchen, not quite knowing what he was looking for. He checked the refrigerator and the freezer. Other than a few food items, he found nothing of import. Next, he entered the study. This was the room with the window facing the woods. It was, indeed, a study. It contained a solid oak desk with a leather chair the rolled around on squeaky wheels. Another tufted chair sat opposite and a bookshelf lined one wall filled with hardback and paperback books. Some were books on banking law, both domestic and international, while others were simply old western mystery novels. It seemed that Gunter Meyer was a fan of cowboy tales.
On top of the desk sat a calendar with a date circled. It was the day he pulled Meyer over. A reminder, no doubt, of his sister’s arrival, but how did she get word to him? How did Meyer know when and where to be waiting for her? Figuring there had to be some kind of letter, Faust began looking through the drawers. Other than personal tax papers and stationary, there was nothing of note.
Joseph came back down, carrying a piece of paper. “I found this in his nightstand.” He handed it over.
Faust looked at it. It was a dry cleaning receipt. “What about it?” He looked at his friend.
Heinz pointed at the top of the ticket. “Look at the address. It’s located near the Checkpoint. This is the dry cleaner most of the allied soldiers use.” Faust raised a questioning brow. Heinz blew out a breath. “Look on the back.”
Herman flipped it over. On the backside, a number was scrawled in pencil.
“The location can’t be a coincidence. What would a Jewish banker in Steglitz need with a dry cleaner so close to the Checkpoint? We should call it, see who it belongs to.”
Faust folded the receipt. “No need.” He bit his lip.
“What? Why not?”
“Because I already know who it belongs to.” Faust closed the desk drawer and stood.
“Who?” Heinz waited, one eyebrow raised.
Herman looked his friend in the eye. “To Captain Rheinhardt.” He buttoned his coat, preparing to leave. “It’s his pager number, the one we all use to contact him when necessary. The question is, what the hell was Meyer doing with it?”
“Holy hell. Now what?” Heinz followed Faust as he exited the study, making his way to the back door.
“Now, we search Rheinhardt’s flat.”
The two left, locking the back door behind them and retracing their steps back to the car. Heinz cruised out of the neighborhood slowly, keeping the headlights off until they cleared the block. They passed rows of parked cars tucked in for the night. Only one woke, pulling out and merging into the darkness behind them.
***
Captain Rolf Rheinhardt lived in an apartment building on the outskirts of the Tiergarten district. Faust stopped once along the way to answer a page from Major Beck. Heinz kept the motor running as Herman ducked into a phone booth, dropping a coin into the slot and dialing the number flashing on his device.
“Faust here.”
“Officer,” said Beck, “I have some information for you, something of note.”
“On Rheinhardt?”
“Yes.”
“What have you found?” Faust huddled inside the booth, his eyes sweeping the block ahead. Several cars passed, at least four. As they drove on or turned off, he relaxed.
“He was a defector.”
This caught Faust by surprise. “What do you mean?”
Beck continued. “Rheinhardt came over to West Berlin from the Eastern Bloc with his family when he was six years old. His mother and father brought their two children across during a brief moment when Jews were practically being expelled by the communists. His maternal grandfather, Sergei Davidovich, served in the Soviet military. He’s now retired, and still living in East Berlin.”
“I had no idea.” Faust chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. “Is that it?”
“No.” Beck paused. “Davidovich wasn’t just any soldier. He was up in rank; a Colonel-general. His name is flagged in our database, sir.”
“Flagged? Spit it out, Major. It’s damned cold out here.”
Beck cleared his throat. “The Colonel-general retired not only from the military, but as the ranking officer in charge of Obolensk. You understand the significance?” The Major waited as his words sunk in.
“Scheisse!” Faust’s mind raced. “But you said he’s retired. Even if all the dots connect, how does that involve the captain?”
Beck coughed. “No career military man is ever fully retired, Officer Faust. We all remain in the game somehow,” the mercenary stated the obvious.
Faust grunted. “I see your point. Is there anything else?”
“Not at this time. I’ll keep digging.”
“Do that.” Faust started to hang up and then paused. “Major Beck?”
“Yes?”
“Good work. Thank you.” Faust hung up. The trek back to the police cruiser was a quiet one. Herman was deep in thought when a car passed as he was about to climb into the driver’s seat. Heinz interrupted his solitude.
“I’m pretty sure that car has passed by here twice already.” He watched as it continued slowly down the street.
“What?” Herman glanced up, eyeing the dark BMW sedan.
“It’s late and there’s not much traffic out,” Heinz stated. “That car has passed by now for the third time. We’re being followed, Herman.”
“Goddammit, by who?” Faust slammed his door shut. “Pull out and go straight. Let’s see what’s what.”
Heinz maneuvered over to the right, going straight. The car turned right ahead of them. As they passed, Faust noted the license plate. They drove down two more city blocks, and just as they passed the third side street, headlights pulled out behind them. Herman pulled down the visor and used the mirror to look back at the front of the car, but the headlights blinded his vision. He couldn’t make out the front plate.
“Damn. Turn left up here,” he pointed.
Heinz made the left.
The car behind them turned left too.
“Alright, Joseph, let’s see how much you learned in evading tails back in the academy.” Faust slipped the seat belt across his lap and fastened it.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Joseph punched the gas pedal down, speeding up. The car behind them increased its speed. Heinz made a quick right followed by a hard left. He made it one block down turning right again before breaking and sliding into a back alley. He shut off the engine and killed the lights. In less than thirty seconds, the other vehicle flew past them, not noticing a parked car in a side alley among several others. They could hear the breaks squealing as the tires slid on the asphalt, and then the sound of the engine speeding up again, moving away quickly. Heinz and Faust breathed a sigh of relief.
“Who do you think it was?” Heinz looked at Herman.
“I don’t know at this point.
After what Beck just told me, I’m almost afraid to speculate.” He scratched his head. “It’s either the Americans or the bastard who called me last night. And now I’m convinced that whoever that is, is connected directly to the Soviets.”
“Why do you say that?”
Faust relayed the information from Beck. At the end of the telling, Heinz whistled.
“Damn, what the hell is going on?”
“Exactly. Jesus, Joseph,” Faust muttered, “my job is supposed to be traffic violations and drunks, not international espionage.”
Heinz swallowed and rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “And yet, here we are.”
“And yet, here we are,” Herman repeated. “Let’s get out of here. Head east. I want to go through Rheinhardt’s place quickly. It will be dawn soon and I don’t want to get caught in the light of day breaking and entering.”
“What are we looking for?” Joseph cranked the engine, putting the car in gear.
“Any clue as to his whereabouts. We need to find him fast. There’s no time to waste. Every hour that passes puts more lives in danger.”
Chapter Eight
The Metro Haus apartment building stood six floors high in a middleclass neighborhood of the Tiergarten. It was exactly what one would expect a police captain’s salary to afford. That appearance ended once Faust and Heinz got inside. After climbing the stairs to the fifth floor, they made their way down the hall to door number 511. It was a corner flat, shaped oddly in a triangular fashion, but it had a terrace that wrapped from one side around to the other. The lock was easy to pick, or at least, it seemed easier after Faust’s last effort. He feared he might be getting rather good at being a criminal.
“No lights,” he told Heinz, placing his hand over the wall switch as they stepped into the darkness within.
“I know that, Herman.” Joseph pulled a small pen light out of his pocket and used it to find their way forward in the living room.
The interior was decorated with expensive furnishings and plush carpets. Nothing inside from the wall hangings to the statuettes cost less than eighteen months’ worth of Faust’s own pay. It was apparent that Rheinhardt either had a trust fund he hadn’t disclosed or he was involved in illegal enterprises which afforded him the ability to indulge his champagne tastes.
The Making of Herman Faust Page 5
