The Making of Herman Faust

by Michele E. Gwynn

  Faust allowed himself to be led, Beck on his left, and his friend, Joseph, on his right. Inside the mobile HazMat unit, the men went through a sterilization process first while still wearing their masks, and then without. Outside, the alien-looking white suits sprayed the entire perimeter until a low cloud of fog hung suspended above the ground. It would remain for the next hour slowly dissipating in the cold.

  “The near freezing temperatures were a help for a change,” Muller pointed out as he joined them. “The virus couldn’t travel in the cold in the same way it would be able to in the heat. Someone was watching over us. Really, that was a major flaw in their plan. Waiting until spring or summer would have been smarter.”

  “Don’t offer them any ideas,” Heinz said. “We stopped them today, but who’s to say they won’t try again?”

  “True.” Muller stood, arms raised, getting blasted by a chemical mist.

  “What spooked him?” Faust interjected.

  “What?” Muller looked at him.

  “Rheinhardt. He was on his way to the embassy gates and then he changed his mind.” Faust looked from Muller to Major Beck.

  The two men exchanged a glance. “A page. He pulled out a pager from his pocket.”

  “Someone tipped him off.” Heinz stated the obvious.

  “Who would know?” Beck asked, looking to Direktor Muller.

  “Only our inner circle had any knowledge,” he stated.

  Heinz and Faust shared a look. Taking in a steadying breath, Herman spoke. “Then we have a traitor in our midst.”

  “And the answer is in that pager,” Heinz added.

  “The body has already been taken.” Beck’s eyebrows came down. “We need to get hold of that pager quickly. The CIA already asked to have their scientists examine the body once we took him down. They’re waiting at the facility.”

  “What facility?” Faust asked.

  Beck caught Muller’s eye, and stopped speaking.

  “That is none of your concern, Officer Faust.” He spoke with authority, and then immediately softened his tone. “We’ll handle it. For now, return to your family, be with them. And I want to speak with you both soon... about your futures.” Direktor Muller gave one last look at Major Beck before offering a brief nod and leaving the truck.

  Chapter Eleven

  Helga leaned heavily upon her husband, her knees suddenly weak. The news was not good. Therese’s condition was worsening by the hour, slipping beyond the control of her physician.

  “I’m sorry, Helga, Herman,” Doctor Nguyen said. She patted Helga’s shoulder as it shook, sobs overtaking her. “None of the medications are working anymore and surgery would be too dangerous in her fragile state. The blood supply to her brain stem is being cut off by the swelling. In an hour or two, she will be clinically brain dead.”

  Faust sucked in a breath as pain sliced at his heart. He doubled his strength to hold Helga up at his side. Behind him, Joseph reached out, gripping his shoulders, lending his support. When they’d arrived back at the hospital, his daughter was coding. Helga had been sent out into the hallway to give the doctor and nurses room to work on Therese. When she saw Herman step off the elevator, she ran into his arms, collapsing in tears, and he’d held her up since.

  Forty-five minutes passed in which his daughter’s brain functions wavered as her heartrate increased, then crashed before being shocked back into rhythm. Doctor Nguyen tried various injections to bring her back to consciousness, but nothing worked. The x-ray cart had been brought in to get views of her head. It was the best they could do under the circumstances since removing her bed from the room in order to obtain a CAT-Scan downstairs would be impossible. The cranial shots at least showed the doctor what she’d feared most; Therese’s brain had swelled again. With nowhere for it to go inside her tiny skull, it was cutting off blood flow to the stem, depriving it of oxygen. Surgery to open a small portion of her skull to alleviate the swelling was too risky while fever raged in her body and sent her into cardiac arrest. There was nothing left to do except pray.

  “Oh, God, Herman, what will we do?” Helga wailed.

  Her pain added to his own. He shivered, unsure of what to say. His own heart was breaking and the lump in his throat choked him. The doctor spoke plainly.

  “When her brain functions cease on the monitor, she’ll be gone. There will be nothing left for us to save. We can keep her body on life support for a time, but eventually, it, too, will give out, possibly sooner than expected after this code. Such episodes weaken the heart muscle and hers is working very hard right now. It’s on auto-pilot trying to fight off the fever and swelling, even with the medication we’ve given her. What I’m saying is,” she looked them both in the eye for a long moment, “is that a decision will need to be made. I’ll be down the hall. Go and sit with her. Call me when you’re ready to discuss it.”

  Herman watched her walk away, and then led Helga inside the room. His daughter lay as before, hooked up to machines and monitors, a tube breathing for her. She looked so small in the large bed.

  Helga went to her side, taking her hand. “Darling, mama is here.” She kissed her fingers.

  “And your old papa too,” Herman said, taking up post on the opposite side.

  The monitor beeped on, faster than before, and erratic. Heinz stood in the doorway watching his dear friends struggling with their pain and grief. “I’ll be out here if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to call me.”

  Faust nodded, never looking up.

  “Herman, our little girl,” Helga whispered. She caught his eye, pleading with her own.

  Tears welled up as he said, “I know.” He put his hand over hers, the one holding Therese’s hand. He’d never felt so powerless. There was nothing he could do to save his child, his light and joy. There was no amount of comfort he could provide for his beautiful wife to protect her from this loss. He’d just helped saved millions of people, but he couldn’t save his own daughter. It wasn’t fair. Herman struggled to take his next breath. All he could do was hang on to them both, and that’s what he did.

  For the next two hours, they remained that way, holding their baby girl, smoothing her lovely red curls back from her face and telling her, softly, how much they loved her. At 4:42 that afternoon, Therese Faust’s brain functions ceased. At 6:02 that evening, she coded, and within twenty minutes, her tired body gave up the fight.

  A gut-wrenching sound ripped from Helga’s soul, passing her lips, and chilling Joseph to the bone as he stood outside of the room where his best friend’s daughter had quietly slipped away. Her sobs were that of a wounded animal, a mother mourning her baby. The sound of her grief was painful, but when he glanced inside the room, it was the look on Herman’s face that haunted him. His friend stood, holding Helga who cried into his shirt front. His expression was pure shock, like a man lost. The tears in his blue eyes gathered at the corners, blinding him as he stared off at nothing. Joseph didn’t know what to do.

  Major Beck came up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come, let’s go get some coffee.” He led Joseph away as Colonel von Friedrich stepped around him, entering the room. Helga’s mother, Margaret, followed. “Let us allow the family their time to grieve.”

  ***

  The sun was especially bright that morning. The warmth radiating down upon the snow-covered ground allowed for enough of a thaw to proceed with the somber service. Friends and family stood around the small grave at Wilmersdorf Cemetery as the minister spoke words of comfort. Herman bowed his head, holding Helga close to his side. The moment felt surreal. Inside the tiny white coffin was their child, their baby. Even though the wooden box was draped with pink and white roses, camellias, and lilies, he knew she was in there, all alone and cold. He could not reconcile the fact that she’d passed with the panic welling up inside of him. His brain told him she was no longer there inside her tiny body, but his heart screamed like a wounded animal that she would not be able to breathe, that she would be frightened to wake inside
a dark box buried in the ground.

  Faust’s sucked in air, feeling starved of oxygen. Helga hugged him tighter as the minister recited a final blessing, sprinkling holy water over their daughter’s coffin as it began to descend into its final resting place. Soft music began somewhere behind them. He glanced around noticing his mother-in-law next to Helga quietly sobbing. Next to her, her brother, the Colonel, stood tall, distinguished in his suit. Across from him, Joseph stood holding hands with Eva, the woman he’d recently begun seeing. She was kind and he knew Helga liked her. The two had been to their home for many dinners and had joined them on outings. Eva had even remarked on how good Joseph was with children after seeing him playing around with Therese. This sparked a conversation between himself and his wife later that night over whether or not Eva was ‘the one.’ Helga believed she was. Herman admitted she knew more than he did about relationships so he bowed to her wisdom, earning good husband points for his acquiescence.

  Beyond extended family and friends stood Faust’s entire police brethren including Captain Schneider. They were joined by Colonel von Friedrich’s men, Major Beck and company. He was surprised to see Direktor Muller and three of the Landeskriminalamt agents also in attendance paying their respects. When Herman’s eyes returned once again to the grave, Therese’s coffin was no longer in sight, but rested at the bottom of the darkened hole in the ground. It was over. She was gone. His heart went with her.

  The minister came to stand before them, offering his condolences, and then, one by one, people approached in a line following suit. For Faust, it seemed to go on forever. He felt numb. Finally, there were no more. Joseph and Eva waited patiently until both Herman and Helga were ready to leave, and walked beside them.

  Near the car, Direktor Muller approached. “Officer Faust, Frau Faust, on behalf of the Landeskriminalamt, I offer our condolences for your loss.” He held Helga’s hand respectfully.

  “Thank you, Herr Direktor,” she replied, her voice hoarse from her tears. A fresh round threatened to overwhelm her. Eva looked at Joseph, and then wrapped her arms around Helga, leading her back to the car.

  When they were alone, Muller addressed Herman. “No man should have to bury his child. I cannot begin to imagine your pain, Faust. You know, I have three children of my own, all of them in their teens now. They drive me crazy,” he paused, “but I am thankful for them every day.” He drew in a breath. “I know you don’t want to hear this now, but Herman, you’re young, both of you,” he looked over at Helga getting into the backseat of a car, “and I pray you’re blessed once again with children.”

  “Thank you, Direktor.” The response was automatic. Herman couldn’t think beyond his pain in that moment.

  “On Monday, come by my office.” Muller handed him his card.

  Herman looked at it. “What for? The case is over.”

  He handed another to Joseph. “You, too.” He returned his gaze to Faust. “We have much to discuss beginning with where you go next in your careers. Nine o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.” He gave a quick nod and turned to leave.

  “Wait, Direktor?” Heinz stopped him.

  “Yes.” Muller stood, hands in his pockets, waiting.

  “Did you ever discover the traitor?”

  Interest lit Faust’s eyes. He looked up from the card in his hand. “Yes, whatever became of that? You were going to investigate Rheinhardt’s pager once it was recovered safely from the HazMat medical unit.”

  Muller’s face remained stoic. “It’s an ongoing investigation, gentlemen, and you are not cleared for that information. Monday. Don’t be late.” He turned, walking away, and paused, throwing one last comment over his shoulder. “Oh, and if you know any qualified candidates with integrity, the LKA now has an opening for Assistant Direktor.” Muller left.

  Faust and Heinz exchanged a long look.

  “Christ,” said Joseph, running a hand over his face. “Platz? That nasty little shit?”

  “Indeed.” Herman chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. “Well, shall we?” He turned, walking to the car. Joseph fell in step beside him as they joined their women for the long ride home.

  Sneak Peek at Book I, Exposed: The Education of Sarah Brown

  Prologue

  Berlin, Germany

  Fall, 2013

  He was beautiful. Absolutely the embodiment of divine creation with his golden curls, blue eyes, and the promise of perfect cheekbones beneath a touch of what people refer to as lingering baby fat. It wasn’t fat, per se, but the roundness of youth on the boy’s face that would fade away in another year or so. At fourteen, he was angelic. Striking. One could almost see the bones stretching and growing like a young sapling that would one day be a mighty oak tree. For now, they lacked the musculature of a grown man. The limbs were long and the back straight. His blue eyes sparkled when he laughed and were fringed with thick, dark-blond lashes. His cheeks were painted naturally with two spots of color, and his lips, as they spread across his face with a hearty laugh, were lush and full. Even his teeth were pearly white. Perfection.

  The very sight of him took the man’s breath away.

  The boy was tossing a ball to a young woman with red hair. She was older, a sister. Just as lovely and striking, but not so much as the boy. The man watched as the two played a game of catch in the park. He had come to this park every day in the last two weeks since he first sighted the glorious creature. On the third day, they returned with a Frisbee and a picnic lunch. He followed them that day as he did today. They left, and the man trailed them, walking far enough behind not to be noticed, casually swinging his cane as if enjoying an afternoon stroll.

  They lived in an old, faded yellow apartment building with too many units to discover which one was theirs. He waited. Two hours later, she left carrying a black duffel bag over her shoulder. He followed her for four blocks where she took the stairs down to the tube and hopped into a car that took them deep into the industrial center of the city. Tourists didn’t frequent this side of Berlin. Here, native Berliners came out to party at the clubs and to indulge themselves in the bars. Then there were the others who blended into the hip party crowd, but slipped down back alley staircases to a world most didn’t know existed. That’s where she went now without hesitation.

  He waited, then followed. The staircase led to a steel door painted black. The logo at eye level was three large letters—XXX—painted red. Above those in bright neon yellow were the words ‘Club Sexo.’ He went inside and was greeted by a glass-enclosed ticket booth which contained a dark-haired man wearing a leather collar with metal studs and no shirt sitting behind the counter. To the left was a door, but it was closed.

  “You have an appointment?” he asked.

  “No. No, I don’t.” The man stood there, looking at the list of club rules hanging on the wall behind the host in the ticket booth.

  “You have to have an appointment.” Shirtless pointed at the rules behind him. Sure enough, that was rule number one.

  “How do I make an appointment?” the man asked.

  Shirtless gave an assessing glance to the man in the suit. He noted the man dressed well; seemed distinguished, even, with his groomed white goatee and hair accented by still dark eyebrows above cold blue eyes. His accent wasn’t quite German; more like Dutch. Still, he looked much like the caliber of men who came and went nightly.

  “You go online to this website.” He handed him a business card through the dip under the glass where tickets were usually presented. “Pick who you wish to see, whatever your particular thing is. All our dommes have bios that describe their specialties. We take all major credit cards, and you pay up front online before walking through that door. The charge shows up as CX3 LLC to protect your privacy. Once your appointment is made, you’ll receive a confirmation email or text, your choice, and you just show up. Oh, and no refunds.”

  “Thank you.” The man took the card and put it in his inside breast pocket. He tipped his hat and left.

  He made his way
back to the UBahn in the quickly falling temperature and found the tube heading back toward the side of town where he was staying. Once back in his room, he shed his suit jacket and pulled the card out of his pocket. He set down his cap and cane next to the jacket. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulled out his mobile and surfed the internet for the website on the card.

  The splash page asked him if he was over eighteen and to press ‘Continue’ to indicate he was, and that he accepted the rules for the site. He chuckled to himself. Beyond the firewall was an ‘About Us’ section and an icon for ‘Our Talent.’ He tapped that key. Several images popped up of women in various bondage costumes looking alternately fierce and sexy. He found them amusing. Scrolling through, one image stood out. A red-haired woman in red lace bra and panties wearing thigh high red leather boots. She had a red leather riding crop in her hands and appeared to be smacking it on her palm suggestively. Mistress Elsa, it said.

  He tapped her image and her bio sprang up. Mistress Elsa is an experienced Domme in the art of bondage for beginners to professional submissives to include extreme roping. Mistress Elsa will bind you, beat you, and/or humiliate you. Your pain is her pleasure. Make your appointment today.

  The man smiled. He changed screens to NOTES and typed. Message saved, he put the card into his wallet and tossed it onto the bedside table. He thought about the boy and young woman. His thoughts went to dark places. Feeling edgy, he got up and picked up his jacket, swinging it over his shoulders and sliding his arms in.

  He grabbed his cane and cap. Walking toward the door, he checked his breast pocket for his room key card. Satisfied it was there, he left.

  Out on the street, he turned right and headed toward the tube station. A ten minute ride south and he was stepping onto the platform. He pulled his coat tighter around him. The night air was cool in September. Up the stairs and onto the street the wind met him head on. This was not a decent side of town. This was a slightly seedier area of Berlin right on the edge of the best tourist spots. Here prostitutes plied their trade. Women from Eastern Europe ended up trapped in this life after being brought in by sex traffickers. Most were strung out on drugs. They looked dirty, ragged, and pathetic, old before their time and used up. The man walked past these women in their platforms heels and short bargain basement skirts as they called out to him.