Shadow Warrior

by Scott, Trevor

“That’s Giger’s address,” Hans said. “He’s there right now.”

  Jake didn’t bother checking his phone. He trusted Hans to play it straight. He wandered back the platz toward his hotel, knowing this could be the last time he saw his old Swiss friend. The guy looked beaten down, Jake thought. Hans Disler deserved to retire.

  15

  Innsbruck, Austria

  Sabine Bauer sat in the back corner of the bar in the old town of the city. As the Kriminal Hauptkommisar of Tirol, she would normally require a security detail, especially with the increase in crime recently. However, she had ordered her normal Polizei detail to take the night off.

  She wanted this meeting to be off the record, which is why she was dressed a bit more provocatively than normal, with designer jeans, leather boots to just below her knees, and a tight silk top that did nothing to hide her substantial breasts. If you’ve got them, flaunt them, she thought. Especially when they could help her get certain information from a man. She sipped on a whiskey sour and set it back on the wooden table in front of her.

  Her contact walked into the bar now, stopped to get a beer, and then wandered over to her table. He was a handsome man, she thought. Strong and beefy from top to bottom, unlike so many other men in Europe of late. But he also had a certain arrogance lingering about his aura.

  Verner Kappel was a German national, and a former high-ranking official of their Polizei. Now he served as Deputy Director of Operations at Europol in The Hague.

  Sitting across from Sabine, Verner said, “I’m glad we could meet.” He reached his hand across the table and the two of them shook warmly.

  “I always have time for you, Verner,” she said. Although the man was in his early 50s, he was still very desirable. He was like Jake Adams without the possibility of the man putting a bullet in her head.

  “As you know, we have a couple of your officers in the field working on an important case,” Verner said.

  “Of course.”

  “And you know of the European Migrant Smuggling Centre.”

  “Yes. EMSC is becoming more and more prominent in the EU.”

  “We believe that Anica has made a significant bust today in Germany.”

  Sabine checked her watch. It was nearly past midnight. “Almost yesterday.”

  “Right. But she did not do this alone. What can you tell me about her friends?” Verner took a long drink of his beer as he studied her reaction.

  “You mean Rolf and Johann,” she said, routinely. “You know Rolf Fischer. Johann is our most recent liaison with Europol.”

  “Why was Johann Gruber involved?”

  Interesting. He already knew the man’s surname. “As far as I can tell, it was personal with Johann. He was working with Anica when she was nearly killed here recently. Then Anica went missing. I authorized him to find Anica. She might be currently working with Europol, but she is still a Tirol Polizei asset.”

  “I understand,” Verner said. “But is she reporting to you or to us?”

  That was the best question the man could ask, but not one in which she would answer truthfully. “I have not heard from Anica since before she went missing in the river that night.” Actually, that was the truth.

  Verner bore his eyes through her as he twisted his glass of beer in a circle on the table. “What about the former intelligence officers working with Anica?”

  She tried not to respond nonverbally, but she hesitated too long. “I know nothing about anyone other than Rolf and Johann.”

  The German from Europol let out a little chuckle under his breath. “So, you don’t know Jake Adams?”

  Now she had no choice but to acknowledge this man. “Of course. He was a resident of Innsbruck for many years. Why do you ask about him?”

  “He is with Anica.”

  “Herr Adams was like an uncle to her,” Sabine said. “But I understand he has been retired for some time.”

  “Men like Adams never retire,” Verner said. “Not until they get a bullet to the head.”

  “Many have tried to kill Herr Adams,” Sabine said. “If he is with Anica, then I feel much better about her safety.”

  Verner took a long drink of beer, leaving just a tiny amount in the bottom of his glass. “If you happen to hear from Anica or this Adams fellow, you make it clear that he is to stay out of this.”

  “I have no sway over this man,” she said. “He is a private citizen.”

  He shook his head and got up to leave. Instead of a professional handshake, Verner simply lifted his chin and smirked before leaving.

  Sabine waved her thumb at the bartender, meaning to bring her another drink.

  Then, she picked up her phone and touched a contact from her office. When the young man picked up with a simple ja, she said, “Do you have him?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He got into a taxi out front and we’re following him now.”

  “Good. Stick with him. I need to know where he goes and who he sees.”

  “Ja, Kriminal Hauptkommisar.”

  Something wasn’t right about that man’s visit, she thought. He could have simply picked up the phone and asked her these same questions. But for some reason Verner Kappel wanted to do this in person. Why? Hopefully her officers would find out tonight.

  The bartender brought her another drink, and she immediately sipped on the fresh whiskey sour.

  How in the hell had Verner found out about Jake Adams? There was no way that Anica had told him. And it wasn’t likely that Johann had any contact with Verner. So that left just one man. Rolf. But why mention Adams? She took out her phone and pulled up her contact list. Sabine was about to send Jake a text and let him know that Europol knew he was involved. But then she decided to wait and see why Verner was really in Innsbruck.

  She put her phone back in her purse and sipped on her drink.

  16

  Zurich, Switzerland

  Jake and Sirena sat a block down the street from the three-story home owned by Fritz Giger. It wasn’t hard to find the Swiss intelligence officers staking out the house along this quiet residential street. There was a car posted on either side of the block, strategically situated for an unobstructed view of Giger’s front door and his tuck-under garage. Even though it was just past midnight, several of the houses still had lights on, including Giger’s house, which still had illumination on the third floor. The bedroom, Jake guessed.

  “What if Giger knows about Konstanz?” Sirena asked.

  “I doubt it. If he did, the man would more than likely have some visible security. Let’s go.”

  Sirena took off her seat belt and said, “How do you plan to get in?”

  He smiled. “The easiest way possible.”

  He got out and strolled down the sidewalk, stopping at the FIS car surveilling the house. Tapping on the window of the driver, which nearly made the man behind the wheel jump out of his skin, the younger man finally lowered his window. Jake told him in German that he would take it from here. They were dismissed. Hans must have done his job, since the man didn’t complain. If fact, they called the other car at the end of the street and both cars slowly pulled away.

  Then Jake and Sirena walked up to the front door and stood for a moment. “No security,” Jake said. Then he rang the doorbell and waited.

  “You think he’s just going to open the door for you?” Sirena asked.

  “Yep. The Swiss are terminally nice people. Not much crime here.”

  Sirena glanced up and down the street. “Much more with you here.”

  As predicted, Fritz Giger came down wearing actual pajamas in a blue and pink Batman pattern. Giger hesitated for a microsecond before opening his thick wooden door.

  “What brings the Polizei by my house so late,” Giger asked in German.

  “May we come in?” Jake asked.

  Giger waved his hand and let them through his threshold, closing the door behind them.

  “Please take off your shoes,” Giger said. “These floors are Brazilian cherry.”

&n
bsp; Jake thought for a moment, wondering how he wanted to play this meeting. He could go harsh or play it straight. Giger already thought he was Polizei, so he thought it might be best to play up that angle for now. So, they took off their shoes. Then he noticed that Giger was wearing pink bunny slippers.

  They knew that Giger was not married, had never been so, and had no children. Jake’s gaydar had often been wrong in the past, but he was pretty damn sure that Fritz Giger was coming up as a logical and likely blip on his screen. Jake had considered using Sirena to entice the man, but now he knew he might have to go there himself.

  Giger led them into a lower level study. Instead of wood and masculine fixtures, this area looked like Liberace had spewed his man juices all over the place. The furniture was red velvet. Frilly lamps looked to be straight out of an 1800s bordello. There was no desk in the room, only those plush chairs around a heart-shaped table of glass trimmed in gold leaf. Yeah, the man was flaming, Jake thought.

  “May I get you officers a drink?” Giger asked.

  “Sorry, sir, but we are on duty,” Jake declared.

  “You don’t mind if I drink,” the Swiss man said.

  “Go for it.”

  The man poured himself a brown liquid from a crystal decanter and then took a seat and crossed his legs like a woman, exposing legs without any hair whatsoever.

  “What can I do for you fine officers?” Giger asked, his gaze undressing Jake and not Sirena.

  Jake took a seat closer to the Swiss man, while Sirena sat across from them.

  “We have a problem,” Jake said.

  Giger pouted his lips. “I don’t like problems.”

  “Neither does the organization.”

  “The Polizei?”

  “The other organization,” Jake said.

  Giger shook his shoulders. “I don’t understand.”

  Jake knew that wasn’t true. Hans had given him enough information to hang the man, and Sirena had gotten more info from their people. So, Jake was certain he could make his ruse work.

  “The supply chain could be compromised,” Jake finally said.

  “You will have to be more specific,” Giger said. “I have more than a hundred trucks through every European country, with the exception of Belarus. I still don’t trust those people.”

  “Jakov,” Jake said.

  With the sound of that name, Giger’s eyes got large. The Swiss man couldn’t hold back his nervousness now. He quickly drank his drink and got up to pour himself more. “Are you sure you don’t want some?”

  Jake waved the man off.

  This time Giger had nearly filled his crystal glass to the top with the alcohol. He sat down delicately and sipped his drink.

  “Jakov,” Jake repeated.

  “What does he want now?” Giger asked. “Have I not given him enough?”

  The Swiss man would find out sooner or later, Jake thought. So, he decided to use some real information to get some unknown information.

  “Goran Goluža was arrested earlier today, along with confiscation of our most recent shipment.”

  Giger sucked down a third of his drink. “Those from North Africa?”

  “Yes. Along with the drugs he stored there. We think the Frenchman sold him out.”

  “Pierre? Too bad. I like his tiny little penis. He is like a ten-year-old child. Doesn’t rip you a new colon every time. Why do you suspect Pierre told the Polizei about Goran?”

  Jake glanced at Sirena, who looked about as disinterested as humanly possible. Then Jake said, “Pierre is also in German Polizei custody.”

  Giger waved his hand and scoffed. “Jakov Koprivica must be livid.”

  Finally, they had the man’s surname. “You could say that,” Jake said. “Jakov is not a pleasant man to begin with, so you can imagine now. I will be meeting with him tomorrow. Is there anything you could tell him to calm him down?”

  “Jakov is in Switzerland?” Giger asked.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, of course. I know he hates Zurich.”

  “As you know, we have operations all over the country, from Lucerne to Interlaken.” He was fishing, but pretty sure about both locations, based on information from Hans.

  “Jakov does love Interlaken,” Giger said. “It must have something to do with ski towns. Although I can’t imagine that rotund man on skis.”

  “Is that what you want me to tell him tomorrow?” Jake asked.

  “Now, you are just playing with me,” Giger said. And under his breath he added, “I wish.”

  Jake waited for the Swiss man to say something, but he must have forgotten the question. “What can you tell me that will satisfy Jakov tomorrow?”

  Giger finished his drink, his eyes flitting about the room. “Does she never talk?”

  “Her German is not great,” Jake said. “And she’s the strong silent type.”

  Raising his brows, Giger said, “Likes it on top?”

  “Easy. If she knew what you just said, she would slit your throat.”

  Sirena was ignoring the men as she clicked away on her phone.

  Now Giger looked concerned and turned to Sirena. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he twisted back toward Jake. “What language does she speak?”

  “Kurdish. But that’s not important. Answer my damn question. Jakov will be concerned about your routes through Italy once the Polizei discovers that’s how the people in German custody entered the European Union.”

  “You are Polizei. You can handle this.”

  “We have no control over INTERPOL and others,” Jake said.

  “The Italians will never be a problem,” Giger said. “With the Mafia and the corrupt Polizia, our pipeline will never get clogged there. They don’t want the people to stay. As soon as they hit the shores, they shove them into buses and send them north.”

  Jake already knew this. But he wasn’t sure how the Italians got away with dumping them across the borders into France, Switzerland, Austria or Slovenia. Yet, he couldn’t ask this question directly or he would give away the fact that he didn’t work for the organization.

  “The Germans are starting to crack down on these people,” Jake said. “So is Austria.”

  “Jakov has Austria covered,” Giger said, taking Jake’s bait.

  “Maybe so. But if INTERPOL or the EU decides to take a strong stand against more people entering the member countries, we could be in trouble.”

  “Is that not why we use Switzerland for staging?” Giger asked. “We are not part of the EU. But we still maintain strong trade with the member countries.”

  Jake gave the man a stern gaze.

  Giger, sensing Jake was not going away without some reassurance, said, “Tell Jakov I will complete a top to bottom review of our operation. Also, ask him if I will be dealing with you from now on, or Giovanni again.”

  Jake thought quickly. “Which Giovanni? We have three in our organization, not including lower level people.”

  “Giovanni Caspari from Lake Como,” Giger said. “I know what you mean, though. The Italians should consider a few more given names.”

  Thinking he might have overplayed his hand, Jake got up and shook the Swiss man’s limp paw.

  Giger led them to the front door and then furled his brows and said, “You didn’t mention your name.”

  By now, Sirena was out onto the front porch, but still playing with her phone like a distracted teenager.

  Jake gave Giger a disturbed look. “You’re right. Most simply call me the fixer. It’s better if you don’t know. You understand.”

  “Of course,” Giger said, but he didn’t understand.

  Leaving the man in the Batman pajamas slack jawed and confused, Jake met Sirena out on the sidewalk and the two of them wandered in the darkness toward their rental BMW.

  Sirena nuzzled next to Jake and said, “I do like it on top.”

  “Either way works for me.”

  “You were brilliant in there,” she said.

  “Hope
you got the two names.”

  “What do you think I was doing, checking my social media status?”

  Since Jake knew she didn’t have any social media presence, he simply said, “Get anything?”

  “Our people are looking into both men.”

  He put his arm around her and brought his head to hers, whispering, “Did you notice the cars?”

  “Of course. Both Fords. One behind us and the other about a block behind our car. People in both. They ducked down a little too late.”

  “Those aren’t the FIS cars,” Jake said.

  “Right. Those were Audis.”

  They got to the BMW and Jake made sure to ignore the Ford sitting a block behind them. He clicked the doors open and got behind the wheel. She buckled herself into the passenger seat.

  “Ready to take a ride?” he asked her.

  “Why not,” she said. “You haven’t scared the shit out of me in a while.”

  Jake turned over the engine and pulled out slowly from the curb.

  Sirena turned the large screen on the dash to the GPS map.

  “Good idea,” Jake said. “I’ve plotted out a route in my mind, but they might force us to go elsewhere.”

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, Jake saw the Ford pull out and follow him. Then, as they approached the second Ford, he saw the driver’s window come down and what had to be a gun barrel.

  He punched it, lurching the BMW forward immediately. Those in the Ford had no time to react. They shot at their BMW, but none of the bullets struck their car.

  Jake turned right at the first corner, the BMW hugging the corner like a Formula One car.

  “This heads toward downtown,” Sirena warned.

  “I know.”

  At that time of night, or early morning, the roads were nearly absent of cars. So, Jake was able to easily power around the slower cars.

  Jake occasionally glanced at the large GPS screen on the dash, but he mostly relied on his knowledge of the city and instinct to navigate the narrow streets, making sure not to turn down dead ends.

  “Who are these people?” Sirena asked as she glanced over her shoulder.

  “My guess is they’re part of the organization,” he said. “Probably coming to meet with Giger to let him know in person about Konstanz. Just like we did.”