by Lee McGeorge
“There’s nothing stopping him. It happens. This business is not without risk.”
“I guess what I’m asking, is why you would choose to do it?”
“Choose? You think this is a choice? I don’t know how to answer that... I had a wife and a child and the child was crying because she was hungry and I couldn’t put food in her mouth… You shouldn’t be judgemental. If you grew up in a world where crime pays and victims suffer and there’s nothing in between, then the choice is whether you allow yourself to become a victim or not. Don’t judge me. Don’t ever judge me.”
Cornel looked ahead. “That’s bullshit. You’re not a simple thief stealing an apple to feed a child.”
“And that shows you know nothing. I am exactly a thief stealing an apple to feed a child.”
The conversation ended.
It was hundreds of miles to Zurich.
The silence was painful. Cornel didn’t want to concede, but the silence cut colder as every second passed. He wished to get out of the van. To be left on the side of a freezing motorway in the wilderness would be better than enduring the freeze inside. Then he remembered McGovern. He was the real villain and the Albanians were the ones who could get him close.
Make peace. Remember why you’re there.
“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Cornel said. “When I said you were not a thief stealing apples, I realised as I said it that you’re right, it’s wrong of me to judge when I don’t understand.”
“That’s alright,” Miklos replied. “The moment I tried to claim I was a thief stealing an apple, I knew you were right, I was talking bullshit.” He gave a wink and a wry smile then closed his eyes.
Cornel stared ahead and watched the road.
The van stopped every few hours for the drivers to change. They ate sandwiches from motorway services. There was little chatter.
“Switzerland,” Agron called as they passed the border.
They bypassed the centre of Zurich and went straight to Jurapark Aargau, a valley offering a few easy ski slopes and occasional rustic looking buildings. There was no lighting and the valley was pitch black, the only illumination coming from the vehicle headlights.
They got out and stretched. Cornel kicked through deep snow and jumped a few times to get his legs working. Miklos unlocked the door to one of the buildings and spoke to Ludovik about lighting the wood burning stove. Agron and Loro disappeared into a bedroom, presumably to get some sleep.
Miklos motioned Cornel to a chair. He took a notepad and pen from his bag and a mobile telephone. “We are here,” he was opening a new SIM card for the phone as he spoke. “It is time we talk. Who are we going to meet?”
Cornel took a deep breath. The point of no return was passed… or was this the point of no return? “Before we do this,” he said. “I want a guarantee that you’re not going to hurt this guy.”
Miklos frowned. “That’s up to him. But, you are a policeman and I do not wish to make myself criminal when you are watching… Now, tell me who he is.”
“His name…” Cornel’s mouth went dry, “is Johann Burkhalter.” Cornel took a small slip of paper from his wallet and handed it over.
“What does this say?” he asked. “Muhlbackstrasse?”
“It’s the address of his office. On the surface, he’s an immigration lawyer, but you don’t have to look far to see that his main business is helping foreigners hide money. Most of his clients are Russians with lots of cash.”
“How did McGovern find this man?”
“I don’t know. McGovern is resourceful. He hit the jackpot when he robbed Gjokeja and would need help to hide it. He probably came looking. How much did he steal? Was it really hundreds of thousands of Euros?”
“Two million, five hundred thousand in cash and over a million in gold.”
“Three and a half million? Are you serious?”
“He took Aldo’s brothers,” Miklos said. “The money doesn’t matter to Aldo… Can I ask you a question, Cornel? Why do you want him? Underneath what he did to your face, your career. What is driving you. I don’t fully understand why you want to be here with me?”
Cornel put his elbows on the table and his hands together in prayer. “What I want is satisfaction.... McGovern is unfinished business. He destroyed all the things I held of value. He took the things from me that made me who I am and I can’t accept that… I won’t… I used to imagine shooting him, but it was a fantasy. I felt like a stupid pretender. I wanted him dead but there was no way I would ever do it in real life.”
“And do you think I’m going to do it for you?”
Cornel shook his head. “No… And I don’t want you to. Killing him is something I want to do, but I didn’t have the courage to do it alone. When I met Aldo, I realised there was a way to make it real.”
Miklos rubbed his chin, thoughtful, his eye contact solid. “I have to make a call,” he said. “Get some rest. Tomorrow we will make things happen with this lawyer.”
----- X -----
“Papa, papa.” Six year old Henrik Burkhalter abandoned his early morning cartoons and rushed with his arms aloft for a hug. His father Johann, obliged and kissed the little boy on his head. His wife Anke smiled at him. She was having an affair with another man... again. She made a broken smile to him then looked away to stare through the window to the snow covered garden.
Johann hugged his boy. He’d suspected for a while and came home early yesterday to catch her in the act. There was nobody there, no suitor hiding in the wardrobe. He said he’d come home because he felt horny and wanted to make love and Anke had complied. The broken emotion in their lovemaking was the first confirmation, her semen filled vagina as he took sloppy seconds was the clincher. He said nothing at the time. They both dressed afterwards in silence.
“What are you doing today?” he asked. “What are your plans?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, I may do a little shopping.”
“Will you be in town for lunch? We can try that new Sushi restaurant; let me know when you’re around and we can meet up.”
Anke feigned a smile. “Will you have time?” She stared at his chest rather than his face.
“I’ll make the time.”
What to do?
After the first affair they’d come to within a hair’s breadth of divorce. He’d salvaged the marriage but was coming to the realisation that she didn’t love him and she didn’t know how to end it. Perhaps she had never loved him and he wasn’t sure what feelings he had left for her. All the emotion had been washed out of him during the first rinse. He didn’t have any more tears to cry or angry words to yell. Is this how a marriage ends?
Only Henrik was of importance.
Johann was a heavyset man in need of a haircut. Too much stomach was breaching the beltline and his moustache needed trimming. He was no match for his trophy wife, but if it wasn’t for her boobs and legs she wouldn’t have a six bedroom luxury home and life’s finer pleasures.
He put the boy down. “Meet me for lunch,” he said.
Anke nodded and went back to staring through the window.
He went outside into the cold and got into his car, a beautiful new Audi. The radio came to life along with the engine.
“It’s over,” he said to himself. “And she ended it.” The car rolled forward. He’d slept last night, slept like a baby. When he’d discovered her first affair he hadn’t slept for a week with stress and anxiety. This time he accepted it and passed out. That was the difference. Acceptance.
Fuck it all.
Only the boy was important. Do whatever is right for him.
He drove to the end of his driveway. The gates opened but there was a van parked over the entrance. What idiot parked their van here? He beeped the horn. A man with shoulder length hair appeared briefly, then moved out of view.
Johann lowered the window. “Bitte können sie ihr hahrzeug zu bewegen.” Please can you move your vehicle, he called.
There was no response.
His wife was sleeping with another man and now some idiot had parked over the entrance. Today was shit. He hadn’t even got out of the fucking driveway and it was shit.
Johann got out, his feet crunching the snow and the gravel of the driveway. “Allo? Allo?” he called as his breath streamed in the cold. Who in the hell was she sleeping with this time? The last idiot was her bastard yoga coach. He’d paid for that fucker to put his hands on his wife’s body. The man with the black shoulder length hair reappeared from behind the van and looked straight at Johann. “You need to move your…”
The man raised his arm. He was holding a gun. It was pointed right in his face.
Johann froze for a second then blurted the words, “My wife is fucking another man.”
The back doors of the van opened and a second man with a shaved head pulled Johann inside. The gunman pushed from behind.
“Nooo! Nooo! Hilfe! Hilfe! HILFE! ANKE! ANKE!” He looked back over his shoulder to the house, screaming and begging that his unfaithful wife would hear.
A hit to the back of his head felt like a hammer cracking his skull and he yelped and stooped forward as he was pulled into the vehicle. The world blurred. A chained manacle clipped around his wrist and reality smacked him in the face. Scream. Scream or die!
“HILLLLFE! HILLLLFE!”
The gunman smashed his nose with the butt of the gun then pressed the muzzle against his lips. Johann went quiet. He shook with uncontrollable spasms as his other hand was shackled and he was pushed to his knees. He heard the familiar purr of his Audi as it was stolen. A length of silver duct tape appeared ahead of him, in the hands of the man standing behind.
“No, Halt. Nooo!” Johann screamed as harshly as he could but the tape wrapped between his teeth, gluing to his skin, covering his mouth, his eyes, his ears as his head was cocooned. Like a fly being immobilised by a spider, he was wrapped in an inescapable binding to await some dread future purpose.
The assault stopped.
The engine to the van started.
And Johann began to feel an excruciating pain in his chest and neck.
----- X -----
“What happened to him?” Cornel asked.
Miklos raised a finger to his lips. Loro spoke in Albanian. Agron, who had arrived in the Audi, helped Loro lift the lawyer out of the van; he was barely moving. They walked him but his feet didn’t take purchase and dragged through the snow.
Miklos held the door to the cottage open and Burkhalter was dumped in a chair. He collapsed against the table with a groan.
Miklos threw ski-masks to each of the men then whispered to Cornel, “Wait by my side. When he sees you, walk behind him and stay there. You must not speak. This is very important. Only I can speak… Put the mask on.”
Agron, Loro and Ludovik had their faces covered. Miklos remained unhooded, he pulled a chair in front of Burkhalter and got to work with a pair of rose shears to cut the tape from the lawyer’s face. Burkhalter looked at the men in ski masks but his face didn’t register fear as much as it showed illness. “Bitte… Hilfe...” he said.
“You are Johann Burkhalter,” Miklos said in English.
“Medicine. In my coat. Medicine…” The man’s eyes rolled over to white and his head rocked back. He was losing consciousness. Miklos found a bag of medications pinned to the lining of his jacket.
“You need this? What for?”
“Heart… Heart…”
Miklos opened the bag and found four white tablets. He put them to Burkhalter’s mouth and noticed him trying to guide them under his tongue, then his shoulders drooped and his eyes closed. Miklos pointed to the door. All of them moved together.
“What’s the problem?” Cornel asked.
Loro spoke quickly with Miklos.
“He thinks he had a heart attack after they picked him up.”
“Then we’ve got to get him to a hospital. He needs medical treatment.”
“We’re going to interrogate him first,” Miklos said. “It will make things harder. I want to make him stressed. But now, not too stressed…”
“Stressed?” Cornel almost yelled with incredulity. “If he dies it’s murder; and that guy looks minutes from death.”
Miklos replied calm as fuck. “And you’re a part of it… let us hope he doesn’t die.”
----- X -----
They sat in the van to keep warm. Miklos was looking through the window of the cottage then returned to the van. “He’s still upright, he’s looking around. I think he’ll survive… Put your masks on and we’ll try again.”
Cornel’s hands trembled and the mask didn’t go on straight. His fingers couldn’t pull the eyeholes into position. Miklos helped like a parent assisting a toddler put on their clothes. “Remember,” he reiterated softly. “Say nothing. Let him see you, then go and stand behind.”
Cornel tipped his head away, embarrassed for needing help. He knew he must look frightened. That must be the reason for the instruction to go behind. Be seen, be a presence, but don’t let Burkhalter see the body language of a man out of his depth.
They entered the cottage. Burkhalter’s skin was white, his breathing shallow but laboured. Cornel slipped behind him. It was theatre. Their entrance was controlled and the audience looked terrified.
“Please… Don’t hurt me,” he pleaded.
Miklos took off his coat to reveal a gun in his belt. Burkhalter swallowed hard. Miklos removed it, ejected the clip, slid the topslide to eject the chambered shell and handed it all to a man in a mask.
“I wish you hadn’t see this. Do you know about interrogation? The first rule is never take a gun into the room unless you are going to use it.”
Miklos pulled the rose shears from his pocket and rested them on the table. He flicked the safety catch and the blades sprung open.
Burkhalter’s head dropped on seeing them. He sobbed loudly. “Please no…”
“What is wrong with you. The medicine. What is it for?”
The lawyer took a few breaths first. “Heart disease,” he said in a breaking voice, his eyes locked on the rose shears. “Please, I will do anything. I am sorry for everything for…”
“Quiet!” Miklos interrupted. “Please, Herr Burkhalter. Don’t make this hard… I have some questions.”
“Yes! I will answer everything.”
“I SAID QUIET. DO NOT SPEAK UNLESS I TELL YOU TO SPEAK.”
The lawyer took deep breaths that didn’t seem effective. He wasn’t getting as much air as he needed.
“Let me explain why we are here... You hide money for people. This is your job and you are good at it. There is a man who you helped to hide money, but the money was not his… it was my money.”
“I can give you money, any money.” Burkhalter said.
“I have money,” Miklos said. “I don’t want the money, I want the man.”
“Please, I will give you anything, I will tell you anything.”
Miklos took his telephone and searched for something, then turned it around to show pictures. “This is Anke,” he said showing Burkhalter his own wife sitting at a garden table in a yellow summer dress. “And this is Henrik.” He showed an image of the boy riding on a child’s car.
Cornel leaned in closer to see. How the hell did he have these pictures? He only told him Burkhalter’s name last night.
“I am going to hurt your wife and child because you helped this man.”
Burkhalter shrieked. “Nooo, please. Not Henrik. I will help you, please, tell me what I must do.”
Miklos pulled his chair closer and held his telephone right under the lawyer’s nose. Burkhalter cried out in anguish. Cornel edged to look at the phone screen. It was a woman hanged with a tight noose; her neck pinched to only a few inches in width. A man in a black ski mask was standing beside her, his hands on his hips in satisfaction. Miklos swiped to the next image, a woman’s naked torso, her arms and legs piled next to the bloody chainsaw. He cycled through more images of gore, images that made Cornel look away. Then
one image made Burkhalter cry out. It was child pornography. A young boy of perhaps five years old on filthy sheets. An older man with craggy skin had a finger in the boy’s asshole. Miklos moved to the next image. A grinning old man, naked in an armchair of a cosy sitting room, another naked boy about five years old was kneeling between his legs, looking across his shoulder to the photographer. The look on the boy’s face was piercing.
Burkhalter was crying.
“I’m going to do this to your boy because you didn’t answer my questions.”
“I’ll answer your questions. Please, I tell you anything,” the lawyer cried out. Ask me. You must ask me.”
Miklos picked up the rose shears and worked the scissor action a few times, cutting thin air ahead. “You shouldn’t have helped this man stay hidden.”
“I don’t know which man. Tell me which man and I tell you everything.”
Miklos got out of his seat and took hold of Burkhalter’s thumb. His wrist was taped to the rung of the chair. Miklos lowered the shears.
Cornel could feel himself reaching the moment of action. He was going to cut off the guy’s thumb, but how could he stop it? He had no way to fight four men and get the lawyer out of here; he couldn’t do anything. Oh Jesus, what the hell could he do?
The lawyer’s hand broke free. He’d cut the tape, he’d only cut the binding. “Stand up.”
The lawyer did so quickly then looked all the worse for the action. One hand went to his chest, the other to the table top to steady himself.
“These men are going to take you outside. This is your time to think. When they bring you back I will ask you straight questions about one man.”
The masked men pushed the lawyer outside.
“You can take the mask off now,” he said to Cornel.
Cornel leaned against the wall, his face coated in sweat. “Where are they taking him?”
