Shadow Warrior

by Scott, Trevor

  “How many?”

  “Ten. Eight men and two women.”

  Jake knew they might all be alright, but if just one of them was planted as a sleeper, and that person hooked up with a few more from other groups, they would have an active terrorist cell. “What will you do with these people?”

  “Our government now has a policy to return all refugees to country of origin,” Anica said. “We have linguists who can determine where they are from. Then, we put them on a plane and send them back.”

  Catch and release, Jake thought. They were like the Mexicans of Europe.

  Anica put her gun into the holster on her hip and adjusted her submachine gun on the sling over her shoulder. “Now what, Jake?”

  “I believe you got the top man in the organization in Austria,” he said. “But this is not over. This is like Whack a Mole.”

  She looked confused.

  “Think of a nice grass field with a bunch of mole hills. One pokes its head up, you try to hit it with a stick and then another one pops up a few feet away.”

  “I don’t like moles.”

  “Nobody likes moles.”

  She stepped closer to him and asked, “What do you think I should do now.”

  “Help interrogate any of the Serbs still alive,” he said.

  “I mean after everything settles down.”

  This was an easy one for Jake. “Stick with the Austrian Polizei.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it seems like Europol is a political mess,” he said. “I’m not sure of the efficacy of the European Union. A centralized government agency that doesn’t even speak the same language is destined for failure. Look at the old Soviet Union. Despite their best efforts at Russification, they were still never able to bring in the Stans completely, not to mention the Baltic States. The Roman Empire had similar problems.”

  “That’s good advice.”

  Jake turned his comm back on and said they had Jakov Koprivica. The next couple of hours were spent explaining their actions. Sabine Bauer took the lead on that front. It was her operation. Which is why she decided who knew about it and who was left out. Her boss was pissed off, but he would get over it, Jake guessed. Especially after they found out she had dismantled a large organization shipping migrants into and through Austria. But not just the people trade. Sabine, Anica, Johann, and the two other Polizei officers from Salzburg and Graz would get credit for stopping a huge drug and gun-running operation on Austrian soil. Anica, of course, would get credit for efforts in France, Germany and Switzerland also.

  Anica went off with her Polizei duties. She would be busy for quite a while trying to extract more information out of the Serbians.

  Jake met Sirena down on the first floor of the chalet. The place looked like a scene out of a horror movie, with dead bodies sprawled about, blood spatter across white stucco walls and tile floors.

  Sirena smiled when she saw Jake. “Are you alright?”

  “I should be asking you that,” Jake said. “It’s like a butcher shop down here.”

  “Butcher shops are cleaner than this,” she assured him.

  “Anyone on our side hit?”

  “The young Swiss officer, Gregor, was hit in the leg. But he’ll be alright. I understand Johann took a couple of shots to his vest. One solid and one glancing blow.” Sirena hesitated as she glanced about the room. “Can we get back to our quiet life in The Azores now?”

  “Yeah. I could use a little fishing right now.”

  “I was thinking about some good wine.”

  “Red?”

  She glanced at the blood and said, “I think white would be better.”

  33

  Innsbruck, Austria

  Less than thirty hours after the raid of the Serb’s compound, Jake entered the Tirol Polizei Station commander’s office on Kaiserjägerstraße 8. The outside of the three-story building reminded Jake of a World War II-era military building, but at least they had updated the interior.

  Sabine Bauer, dressed now in her full dark blue Polizei uniform with gold buttons and epaulets, met him in the center of the room and shook Jake’s hand professionally. Then, breaking protocol, she gave him a warm embrace before returning to her chair behind a large oak desk.

  Jake had been in this office before when Franz Martini had occupied the position. Not much had changed, with the exception of the types of awards hanging on the wall. Franz had been a military man before joining the Polizei, so his wall showed various awards from his time in the army.

  Taking a seat across from Sabine, Jake said, “Everything alright?”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “My boss in Vienna is not happy.”

  “At your actions or your results?”

  “My actions.” She clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. “But he has found it necessary to take credit for me, saying he had authorized my efforts.”

  “I could make a few calls to Vienna and make sure you get the credit you deserve,” Jake said.

  “No, that’s not necessary. I don’t care about my career at this point. Tirol is my home. To rise any higher, I would have to take a position in Vienna. That would just about kill me.”

  “I understand. But you saw a problem and you fixed it. You also could have saved the life of my young friend, Anica Senka.”

  “She’s a special young lady,” Sabine said.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “I have already put her in for our highest medal, with gallantry.”

  “That’s great,” Jake said. “She deserves it.”

  Sabine cocked her head to the right slightly. “You have this ability to see the complex and translate it into something much simpler.”

  He had been told that in the past. “It’s the human condition, Sabine. When pushed, people tend to do what’s in their best interest, regardless of the consequences.”

  She leaned forward on her desk. “Tell me about what Jakov Koprivica told you before he died.”

  They had already gone over this a couple of times in the past thirty hours. “I told you. He was in a lot of pain and rambling in Serbian, which I don’t understand.”

  “I see,” she said, but obviously didn’t believe.

  “Have you gotten anything from those we brought in?” Jake asked.

  “We put two of them together in a cell and had Anica monitor them,” Sabine said. “So far, the one who had been a captain under Jakov Koprivica, had told the other one to keep his mouth shut or the organization will do it for him.”

  “You think they have that kind of pull within your jail?”

  Sabine smiled. “We’re working on that.”

  “There was a mole somewhere in this building,” Jake assured her.

  “Perhaps. But it could have been somewhere in the reporting structure, from here to Vienna. We will find the leak.”

  Jake had a feeling she was right. But he also guessed the leak didn’t move to the east, but instead drifted toward the north.

  “Is your girlfriend still in Austria?” Sabine asked.

  “No.”

  “She’s back in The Azores?”

  Jake lifted his chin and nodded.

  “Maybe we could have a drink before you leave,” she said. “With Anica and Johann, of course.”

  “That would be great,” Jake said, and then got up from his chair. He reached across the desk and shook Sabine’s hand one more time. It was nice to know that he had a friend in the Tirol Polizei who could keep an eye on Anica. An advocate.

  He headed toward the door and stopped, turning back to Sabine. “Take care of Anica.” It came across as more of a warning than a request, and that was his intent.

  Sabine gave him a half smile and lifted her chin.

  When he got to the ground floor of the Polizei station, Anica was waiting for him in the lobby. She was dressed in civilian clothes, having been ordered to take some time off.

  “Everything alright?” Anica asked.

  “Yeah. Just great.” />
  “I got a text from Sirena,” she said. “She’s back in The Azores. She couldn’t wait for you?”

  “No. I plan to visit my son, Karl, for a few days.”

  “He’s with the diplomatic corps, right?”

  Something like that. “He’s on a stopover in Germany, so we plan to drink a little beer.”

  “I wish we could meet,” she said.

  He would like nothing more for them to meet, but he knew the situation was impossible, considering the nature of Karl’s work. “I’ll set something up in the future. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Will you still be working with Europol?”

  She shook her head. “Not likely. This will be my Polizei uniform now. I was offered a position in EKO Cobra, but decided against that. Only one woman has made it through the training.”

  “Counter terrorism is a good position,” Jake said. “But you have a brilliant mind for detection. You’re better suited there. More likely to advance there as well.”

  She agreed with a smile.

  “Well, I need to head out,” Jake said.

  “Where are you going in Germany?”

  “Berlin,” Jake said. He hated lying to her, but there was no way around it.

  “Are you flying or driving?”

  “I’m taking the Alfa Romeo. The Autobahn is calling my name.” That was the truth.

  “Do you want some company? I have some time off.”

  “I would love it,” Jake said. “But my son has a very narrow window of opportunity.”

  She smiled. “Oh. He’s not really a diplomat.”

  Jake shrugged, leaving it like that.

  Anica moved in and gave Jake a massive hug, holding him tight to her body. When she finally pulled away, Jake kissed her forehead. She had tears coming from each eye, which she wiped away with the back of her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “Being so emotional.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that, Anica.”

  “It’s just that I really have no one here,” she admitted.

  “You always have me,” he said, “even if I’m far away. Just call me or text me. Very few people have my number. I will always be here for you.”

  “I wish you lived in Innsbruck again.”

  “Summers are great, but I’ve become used to milder winters.”

  “You’ve given up skiing?”

  “I haven’t done much since I got my knee shot up years ago.”

  “I understand.” She gave Jake a quick kiss on both cheeks. “You come back soon.”

  “I will. And you’re always welcome at my place in The Azores. Come to visit us.”

  “I would love that.”

  They hugged one more time, and then Jake turned and left her in the lobby as he went to retrieve his rental Alfa Romeo.

  Just as he sat behind the wheel of the car, he got a text from Hans in Switzerland. His men had gotten back and were debriefed. Hans wanted to thank Jake for allowing his men on the operation. The Italian Jake had turned over was still providing intel. He was the gift that kept on giving.

  Jake cranked over the engine and listened to the roar of the machine. Yeah, he guessed the Autobahn was calling him. But not Berlin.

  34

  The Hague, The Netherlands

  One week later

  Jake had not visited his son Karl. He never intended to do so. In fact, he had no idea where his son was currently assigned with the CIA.

  Instead, he had traveled north through Germany, testing the engine and handling of the rental Alfa Romeo. The car had performed as advertised. He thought about Karl’s mother, Toni Contardo, and how she had almost always owned an Alfa.

  Once Jake got to The Netherlands, he had found a place to stay as close to his target as possible. The man lived only two kilometers from Europol Headquarters.

  Jake had no problem getting close to the German. Arrogance was a pesky habit to have for a man in his position. It allowed him to be patterned and approached without much concern.

  Verner Kappel was Deputy Director of Operations at Europol, yet he had no security detail when he picked up his morning coffee and pastry at the bakery a few blocks from his house. He had no security at the gym a kilometer from his house, either. Or at the restaurants he frequented.

  Kappel was a creature of habit. Not a good trait for security, but an easy target for Jake.

  And Jake had done a deep background on the man. He had been married, but his ex-wife still lived in Hamburg. His two daughters lived in Berlin, and Kappel only saw them on holidays. The man lived alone in a two-story stand-alone house, the grounds fenced and covered with shrubbery and thick trees.

  Security would not be a problem, Jake knew. He would not need to breach anything, since his benefactor, the Spanish Billionaire, ran the security company used by Kappel. Jake had been able to disarm the system electronically.

  More importantly, perhaps, was the electronic surveillance Jake had conducted over the past week with the help of some old friends. Now he knew he had the right man. A man who was not only arrogant, but out of control.

  Jake had set up an actual meeting with Verner Kappel, under the ruse of an interview with a respected German magazine. Keeping the cover semi-real, Jake came to the man’s door with his duffle bag over his shoulder. But instead of camera equipment, Jake’s bag was filled with dirty laundry, a spare gun, and four full extra Glock magazines of 9mm rounds.

  Kappel came to the door wearing casual Sunday clothing, designer jeans and a gray cashmere sweater.

  “Nice house,” Jake said in German.

  “Thank you,” Kappel said. “I wish I could say it was mine, but it came with the job.”

  The German escorted Jake into a first-floor study, where books lined two full walls from floor to ceiling, with a requisite ladder on rails.

  Kappel moved around and sat behind a massive cherry desk and waved for Jake to take a seat in one of two plush leather chairs on the opposite side.

  Jake set his bag on the floor, unzipped his leather jacket, and took a seat.

  “Can I get you a drink?” Kappel asked.

  “Thank you, but I think we should get right to the interview,” Jake said.

  Nodding his head, Kappel said, “You don’t mind if I drink.”

  “Not at all.” Jake took out his phone and set it on the edge of the desk, hitting the record button. “I hope you don’t mind. My memory is not what it used to be. And I will be sure to send you a copy of our conversation so there is no misunderstanding.”

  “No p…problem,” Kappel said.

  Finally, the slight speech impediment came out. Jake had heard this stutter and stammer over the past few days through electronic surveillance. It was nice to confirm in person.

  Jake asked some simple questions, like name and spelling of his name. Then he confirmed the man’s background, from his hometown to his education and finally his Polizei affiliation. With Jake’s background, he was able to name drop several people within German Polizei.

  Finally, Jake said, “Why do they call you the consultant?”

  This made the guy do a double take, followed by a couple of starts that were interrupted by a long string of stuttering. Kappel was rattled.

  “Are you alright?” Jake asked.

  “I don’t understand,” Kappel said. “I am the deputy director of operations for Europol, the law enforcement branch of the European Union. I am not a consultant.”

  Nice recovery, Jake thought.

  “Pardon me,” Jake said. “I was under the impression that some called you the consultant. People like Jakov Koprivica and Giovanni Caspari.”

  The German took one fist in the other and seemed to be squeezing the blood from it. “I don’t understand.”

  “Sure, you do, Herr Kappel,” Jake said. “You have communicated with these men a number of times using that phone on your desk.”

  “How?” Kappel
said. Then he seemed to have a revelation and kept his mouth closed.

  “Would you like for me to show you the phone records?” Jake asked.

  Kappel said something under his breath, but it was too quiet for Jake to hear.

  “Excuse me?” Jake asked. “You will have to speak up.”

  “This interview is over.”

  Jake shook his head. “I’m just getting started.” He hesitated for a response, but the German seemed somewhat deflated. His eyes shifted about like a paranoid drug addict.

  Kappel picked up his phone and was started to punch in a number. “My security will be here within a minute.”

  Smiling, Jake said, “No, they won’t. Check again. Your phone doesn’t have a dial tone.”

  The German tapped on the phone trying desperately to get a tone, but he couldn’t. In the end, he set the phone back in its charging station. Reaching into his coat pocket, Kappel pulled out his cell phone and tried to find the number for his security detail. Once he found it, he tried to connect, but the call didn’t go through.

  “This makes no sense,” Kappel said with a stutter. “I have no signal.”

  “It’s being jammed,” Jake said.

  “Who are you?”

  Jake smiled. “A concerned citizen.”

  Finally, Verner Kappel seemed to understand. “You are the man. The shadow who has tried to dismantle the organization in France, in Germany, in Switzerland, and in Austria.”

  “Which organization?” Jake asked.

  Kappel tightened his jaw and tried to smile. “You have nothing on me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Jake said. “We have you communicating with Goran Goluža, Zoran Petrovic and Fritz Giger. All of these men are under arrest or dead for transporting illegal immigrants, drugs and weapons across national borders.”

  The German put his hands in his lap. “The policy of the European Union is inclusion. The same with our member states.”

  “Germany is the size of one American state,” Jake said, “Yet, it has over eighty million citizens. How much more can it take?”

  “As much as necessary.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “People come to Europe from war-ravaged countries with despotic dictators.”