It's Personal

by Philip Bond

  “Not very much, except recently something changes. The traffickers become bold.” Opening a cupboard door, Jeanette adds… “For breakfast, I make you the omelette?”

  “Thank you, that would be nice. You say the traffickers become bold, in what way?”

  “Many people, more times they come and younger are they.” Dismissing further discussion… “Enough of this, you will breakfast then we see sights.” Jeanette places a pot of coffee on the table… “Help yourself, eat, soon I take you to see our famous city.”

  Harry obliges.

  *

  “Your number and name this man has in his telephone, why?”

  “The informant is he.”

  Standing behind leaning against the wall, arms folded the Kriminalkommissar exclaims… “The dead informer is he.”

  Knocking on Volker’s door before sunrise, two plainclothes Landespolizei ‘invite’ him to answer question in the police station, refusal not an option. It’s short drive to Neuländer Straße. Despite the many beers before sleep, he’s surprisingly alert… “Dead is Filmon, how?”

  “Murdered,” blandly the Kriminalkommissar allows… “Throat is cut.”

  “When?”

  “Somewhere around 19:00 last,” casually adding… “Any thoughts on who might do this?”

  “No, I have not the clue.”

  “We believe you, so now you tell us everything he tells you, names places and times.”

  “He tells me illegal immigrants are trucked in from Romania through Slovakia Hungary and the Czech Republic.” This isn’t the first-time police question him about sources… “Pantechnicon trucks from Debrecen through the Czech Republic arriving in Dresden.”

  “Names you give to me.”

  “Never the name he gives, only times and places to be on arrival.” This’s a first where a source is murdered… “Just yesterday, the intermodal, I see pantechnicons arrive with as many as one hundred people, many are adolescent females.”

  “You consider this unimportant to share with authorities, us?”

  “Alerting compromises the source.”

  “Oh, the dead source you mean, Filmon?”

  “Ja Filmon.”

  “What time at the intermodal is this?”

  “I come there immediately from Berlin,” Volker is quick to respond… “Around 15:00, I believe.”

  “In time to see pantechnicon arrival?”

  “Ja.”

  “So he tells you exact these arrival times?”

  “Ja.”

  “Where are you to see these arrivals?”

  “Inside the compound, hidden among parked trailers.”

  “You see what?”

  “The trailer doors open, people get out, frail, weak and wretched. One resists and without hesitation, shot in the head.”

  “Witness a murder and you do not consider calling police?”

  “Before I do anything, someone puts a gun to my head.”

  “How do you escape?”

  “My cameraman appears, disarms this gunman, then we leave.”

  “Then what?”

  “Check into the hotel, have some food and drink.”

  “Where is the intermodal?”

  “Potthoffstraße.”

  The other officer jumps… “Know this place I do, surveillance is everywhere. They have your image and by now your name, address and family.”

  “Protection I have.”

  “Your cameraman?”

  “Ja, my cameraman. The ex-marine is he.”

  "He is the American travelling with you?

  “Ja, how you know him?”

  “We make inquiries, we are police, it’s what we do.”

  “I share nothing with him, he is cameraman only. However, you will know I am well protected.”

  “If you believe that, then good for you.” The officer is blasé towards Volker’s wellbeing… “It’s obvious, Filmon is murdered because he associates with you. Lucky are you, we do not find your also mangled body next the girl under Waltherstraße rail overpass. Run over by two trains shunting. Many pieces. First, we consider suicide until hearing your exploits.” Without a hint of concern… “Suggest you leave Dresden for somewhere you consider safe. Here you are not.”

  *

  An oncoming storm engulfing the region curtails the day’s sightseeing. It’s too early to retreat home and besides, Jeanette hasn’t finished parading her cousin to the Graz citizenry… “In here we go for coffee and strudel.” A cosy little shop dedicated to fattening the populace, just around the corner from the police station… “Maybe I telephone Wolfgang to join us.”

  Suddenly, the day picks up. Wolfgang, maybe she can pick his mind for information on her latest interest… “Why not. Yes, call him.”

  Coffee bolsters resolve to the outside elements. Strudel is sweet and sticky. Jeanette ladles masses of cream upon the crust while only a teaspoon full does Harry. Jeanette reduces her strudel to nothing in the same time Harry consumes three spoons.

  Wolfgang enters the shop, kisses his wife… “Mein Ehefrau,” then to Harry… “Guten Tag Base Harrietta.”

  “Please,” correcting… “Call me Harry.”

  “This a man’s name?” Jeanette interjects.

  A reaction she didn’t expect… “Only for some, Jeanette, but if you prefer please use what my parents christen me.”

  Wolfgang resuscitates the impasse… “I read this day a report, bring down Australian government you do also, all of the people you identify either in imprison or facing trial, but for one.”

  “They did this themselves,” she’s emphatic… “I only exposed character weaknesses and wrongdoing, however, the unnamed person is Lloyd Sanders and was the Australian CIA station chief.”

  First arranging himself into his seat… “Maybe,” Wolfgang allows… “This man uses his last resort escape route to avoid embarrassment to both the Australian and US governments.”

  A little more prudent in judgement… “Or maybe he’s a resourceful criminal now in hiding. At the very least, complicit in importing drugs as well as the deaths of two Australian police officers.”

  “For that reason alone, the CIA hides him.” Never one to paint a prissy canvas, Wolfgang speaks from experience… “This man ceases to exist and especially, he is no longer in the United States.”

  “Any guesses where they sent him?” Harry’s dismissive.

  “Wherever civil laws are weakest and guns rule.”

  Still dismissive… “That could be anywhere in South America,” then in an afterthought… “Or Somalia possibly.”

  “Or the Balkans,” said with a not too hidden ring of confidence.

  Such a chilling thought… “Maybe so, Wolfgang,” a pertinent topic… “What’s coming up that a journalist new to Europe might find interesting?”

  “I suspect, cousin, your interests lay beyond the political and human interest?”

  “Correct, tell me about people smuggling?”

  “Not here and not now. Tomorrow, leave with me for my work. I arrange the background briefing. Agreed?”

  Harry responds gleefully… “Agreed.” The journalist galvanises in the opportunity.

  Jeanette isn’t happy.

  Conversation remains curt for the remainder of the day.

  Just before dinner, the day moves up several notches with the ringing of her cellphone… “Hey babe, how you doing?”

  The world could end now, and she will remain elated… “Better now I’m speaking to you. How are things in Dresden?”

  “Well babe, it’s a wrap. Volker returns to Berlin; best of all, I have four days off and grabbed a flight to Graz via Vienna. I’ll be there in seven hours.”

  “I’d better find us a place to stay.” Muffling her voice… “I don’t think my cousin will appreciate sharing me with you.”

  “Sounds like you have some interesting relatives.”

  “Let’s say, I’m getting used to a new set of rules.”

  “Love you babe
.”

  “Love you too, sergeant. I need you.”

  “Seven hours then?”

  “Tell the pilot to make it six.”

  *

  Wolfgang offers the escape… “Allow you I do, small apartment for three days no more.” Jeanette’s annoyed at the thought.

  Thunderstruck by the revelation, Jeanette rallies to question… “How can you offer Harrietta an apartment? Where do such things come from?”

  The husband attempts to diffuse the questioning… “Ehefrau, we use this for operational reasons. Today and the next four days is vacant.”

  Harry’s packed and ready. Matt should be at the airport, she’s anxious to be with him but first, it’s a domestic… “So, who else do you bring to this place, ein freundin?”

  “Be sensible,” Wolfgang goes on the defensive… “Ridiculous is what you say. You know we have different places for operational reasons, none of which are for adultery.”

  Jeanette’s relentless… “So you say.”

  “This conversation ends,” reaffirming Austrian manhood… “I leave for work. Kinder du bist bereit?”

  As Jeanette turns towards the stairs sobbing, their teenage children collect their things to accompany their father. Suddenly, Harry feels remorse until remembering she’s to be with Matt removes all second thoughts… “I’m ready.”

  Jeanette disappears up the stairs.

  *

  Matt’s irate… “Your informant’s murdered, you’re on tape entering the compound plus, witnessing the murder of an immigrant, you didn’t think it important to tell me?”

  “Less you know, the better.”

  “For who?” Flabbergasted by the disregard… “It’s guilt by association, they’ll kill regardless. These people don’t leave loose ends.”

  “You say, you enter unseen, therefore, they do not know you. Safe you be.”

  “Volker, your plan was, enter the site, apply for a job. Nothin’ about stoppin’, hidin’ and unsuccessfully waiting for the arrival of the trucks. You knew they were comin’, didn’t you?”

  “Ja.”

  “And didn’t consider it important sharin’ this with me?”

  “Cameraman only you are.”

  “Not with you again, Volker, not going to be outta your loop.”

  “Work well together we do, reconsider please.”

  “Volker, I’m not a mushroom. I’ll only work with someone if they involve me totally. You work on a need-to-know basis only. That doesn’t suit me. So, I wish you well.”

  “So, you leave?”

  “Yep.”

  *

  The flight goes to schedule; the airport arrival scene repeats as the previous with elongated emotional hugging plus kisses. Taxi to the apartment sedate quiet and very short; the apartment just the other side the River Mur.

  Emotion trumps everything as both desperate to intimately reconnect.

  *

  To an interested observer, it might appear that Matt and Harry devote most of their time together training for a sexual subset of the Olympic Games.

  On closing the door, both begin tugging to remove the other’s clothes quickly, climbing the peak of ecstasy to remain there until oxygen starvation forces intermission… “Love you, babe.”

  Snuggling into his warmth… “I’ve never been happier, sergeant, than when you’re close.”

  His hand slides under her chin, turning her face into his… “Then you’ve been thinking about our future?”

  First kissing his lips… “Never stop,” and in the cheekiest voice… “But if you’re leading into the subject of marriage, nothing changes. Nothing in this world would satisfy me more than being your wife.”

  He’s learning… “There’s a but, right?”

  She lifts herself up on one elbow, looking him in the eyes… “I’m impressed, sergeant. You’ve been only months in journalism and already sense when a subject’s holding back.”

  Demonstrating just how much he’s the quick learner… “Then answer the question.”

  “And determined also.” She’s playful… “Nothing changes, I’m ready, I want time for you to be sure.”

  Time to change the subject… “So, what’s been happening here in the hot city of Graz?”

  Laying her head back onto the pillow… “My cousin Jeanette,” she sighs… “is using my notoriety to parade me everywhere possible. Even here in Austria, the fallout in Australia makes the news.”

  He does little to disguise his sarcasm… “That’s the power of the press, babe.”

  “And don’t I know it.” Again, she props her head up upon an elbow… “There’s something interesting, however; Jeanette’s husband’s a policeman and I’m meeting him in,” she looks at the clock… “Wow,” she kicks off the doona to dress… “In twenty minutes, there’s a briefing on people smuggling.”

  Harry’s startling urge to move catches Matt off guard… “What’ll I do?”

  “Dress and come with me.”

  “So much for sleep.” The urgency bites as if he has not left the Marines… “Even the military make sure the jarhead gets rest.”

  “Enjoy your new professionalism, sergeant.” She kicks the bed… “Get a move on, we’re late.”

  “Yes.”

  Both hurriedly dress.

  *

  An Unofficial Assignment

  In his element, Wolfgang’s officious… “I remind you cousin, nothing here is for record. No attributes, no references, nothing that this happens.” Wolfgang looks to Matt’s camera… “There is no vision of record.” The lecture begins… “To preface, this briefing happens for two reasons. First, you are relative. Second and primary reason, your history demonstrates commitment to truth and pursuit of facts without editorial. These are qualities I admire. Now, I leave you with Roland for the briefing and answer questions as he sees fit.”

  Wolfgang retires, Roland steps up… “Europe benefits from migration since the beginning of mankind. National boundaries and laws to control people movement become necessary during World War Two and remain.” Turning to a screen, he starts a visual presentation from his computer… “Dismantling of iron curtain unleashes immigration flood, not all legal.” Images of destitute peoples trudging along a seemingly endless road floods the screen… “Peoples in distressed economies of the east seek financial security in west. Because criminals involve themselves in trafficking humans for profit or slavery, nations such as Austria pass laws to protect the vulnerable and imprison smugglers. Recently organised crime gangs move to people smuggling.”

  “I’ve just been in Dresden,” Matt interjects… “Taping a report on people smuggling.”

  “Do you know what confronts these people along their journey?” Roland’s delivery almost sounds like one-upmanship.

  “No.” Matt reluctantly acknowledges.

  Harry feels left out… “Me either.”

  “Horrific circumstances.” Roland keys the computer. More images of refugees with despairing and forlorn faces occupy the screen… “It does not end when or if they reach their destination. The unfortunate become prostitutes or slaves working off smugglers levies. Failure means exposure to immigration authorities and return to countries of origin, thereby losing whatever they originally pay.” Images flash on the screen of people crammed into containers, back of trucks even in boots of cars. The commentary continues… “Smugglers be only winners.”

  Harry jumps on the glaring point… “What levies?”

  “Well into the journey,” Roland stops the presentation… “It is smuggler’s trick, demanding additional payment to complete the journey. Having left their home and believing they are so close to freedom and financial security, mostly all agree.”

  Harry asks the obvious… “And if they do not?”

  “Cramped are they in crates or trucks without adequate venting.” Starting the presentation to show lifeless bodies slumped on the floor, some on top of others again Roland provides the commentary… “The fortunate die from oxygen
starvation.”

  The question remains… “And those who do not?”

  The presentation flashes people with obvious intellectual damage, the fortunate in wheel chairs the remainder confined to beds… “Suffer brain damage yet still they must return to uncertain future in their country of origin. Either way, everything they lose. Illegal immigrants come from as far away as India, Middle East, Russia and of course the Balkans. The majority are from Asia and Middle East and pass through Austria and Hungary. So, you see, have the very big job we do.”

  With her eyes fixed upon the images, Harry’s moved… “Have you identified the people smugglers?”

  “Most be small three or five people gangs, recently we hear two people take control of many, making one very large and very organised ring.”

  Matt remains silent as Harry dominates… “Who are they?”

  “The smaller are mostly new comers, gangsters chasing easy money. One of the two has history from the war.”

  “Bosnia-Herzegovina,” Matt’s quickest.

  “No, second.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. One person interests us. Instrumental is he, creating Nazi ratlines, moving Hitler’s Schutzstaffel and hierarchy away from discovery in Europe.”

  “Who,” Harry and Matt in unison?

  “Helmut Sperling,” An out-of-focus image flashes on the screen with Roland continuing… “He is Skorzeny protégé trained specifically to continue Die Spinne, post war.”

  Various photographs of the Nazi hierarchy replace the out of focus image… “Yes. Skorzeny joins the Nazi party in 1931 and the Waffen-SS in 1939.” Returning the same out of focus image every so often… “Actually, the heroic man is he carrying out many daring exploits.” An image of a handsome man in his early thirties sitting a desk with cigarette in hand flashes on the screen… “He leads Special Forces to liberate Mussolini and later, is reputed to lead commando forces to capture or kill Eisenhower.” Various images of the same man, each time ageing, follow, ending with the same out of focus image… “After the war, Helmut Sperling joins participating in infamous ratlines secreting high value Nazi’s out of Europe.” More images of dishevelled humans marching seeming to nowhere follow… “Although Skorzeny dies in July 1975, Sperling learns people smuggling technics for later in life.” Images of hapless illegals filling towards police vans fill the screen… “All this is supposition. Everything Sperling does is invisible. No proof have we to convict him. Intelligence recently becomes untrustworthily. He may have friends in high places.”