Shadow Warrior

by Scott, Trevor

  “True. Some of them. Maybe even most of them. But it just takes a few slipping through the cracks to blow the shit out of our cities, or drive a truck into a crowd of innocent people. If the people can’t gather peacefully and drink beer and eat good food during a celebration, what kind of life have they given up?”

  “What would you do? Build a wall?”

  “Without borders you have no countries, you have chaos,” Jake said. “You also have no identity. And in a couple of generations you will no longer be speaking German in Germany. Your two girls better start learning Arabic.”

  “That’s absurd,” Kappel spit out.

  “No, I’m afraid that’s the reality. Poland already understands this. Austria is beginning to see the light. And soon, you will no longer have a European Union. The Brits are only the first to splinter away. Others will follow soon.”

  Kappel shook his head. “You are a xenophobe. A racist.”

  “No,” Jake said. “I just believe in countries with borders. Without a centralized overlord of unelected officials like the EU imposing their will on the people of the member states.”

  “These people deserve a home,” Kappel said.

  “God gives us all the right to life and liberty. But that doesn’t mean people have the right to take up residency in any country of their choice. These people need to stand up and fight for their homeland. Kick out the dictators. If they are not willing to fight for their home, then they can’t blame God or other countries for their plight.”

  Jake saw the movement and knew what was coming.

  Kappel tried to draw his gun from his desk drawer. But, as if in slow motion, Jake caught the black handgun rising toward him.

  With one swift motion, Jake drew his own gun and shifted to his right.

  The first round from the German’s gun whizzed by Jake’s head and struck the wall behind him.

  Jake fired three shots. The first one struck Kappel in the chest, the second blew a hole in the man’s neck, sending an instant stream of pulsing blood from the wound, and the third bullet struck the German just above his right eye.

  Somehow, Kappel managed to fire a couple of more rounds, but both struck the ceiling.

  Jake stood tall and watched as blood flowed freely from the German’s chest and the neck wound went from spurting to seeping.

  When Jake sensed movement at the door, he swiveled around and aimed his gun at a man entering with his gun aimed at Jake.

  “Hey, Shaggy,” Jake said. “I had a feeling you would eventually show up.”

  “You just murdered the second highest ranking officer at Europol,” the younger man said.

  “For the record,” Jake said, “Verner Kappel pulled his weapon and tried to kill me. I simply defended myself. Now, Rolf Fischer, aka Shaggy, why are you pointing your gun at me?”

  “You just executed my boss,” the Austrian Polizei officer and Europol officer said.

  Jake shook his head. “Do you see that phone on the desk?”

  The Austrian took two steps closer, his eyes shifting toward Jake’s phone. “What about it?”

  “The phone is not just recording our conversation,” Jake said. “It is uploading the file to the cloud. It is also connected to the Austrian Polizei. So, you might want to put down your gun.”

  “I could just shoot you,” Rolf said.

  “You might get one or two shots off,” Jake admitted. “Then I’ll be forced to kill you.”

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself.”

  Jake shrugged. “Confidence comes through experience. Now, put your gun down.”

  Rolf Fischer was considering his options. Finally, obviously not wanting to die, the young Polizei officer set his gun onto the low carpet.

  Then Jake directed the man to his knees with his hands behind his head. Jake found zip ties inside his pocket and he bound the officer’s hands behind his back. Then he also strapped his ankles together. Finally, Jake strapped the young man’s hands to his feet like a hog ready for the pit.

  Now Jake found his phone on the desk. He stopped the recording and then slowly wandered out of the large house. Once he was outside and heading toward his car, Jake sent a link to the recording to Sabine Bauer in Innsbruck. In the text, Jake mentioned Verner Kappel was dead and Rolf Fischer was tied up in the first-floor study.

  Sabine texted back saying she would handle it. She thanked him for his help.

  Jake found the rental Alfa Romeo down the street. As he slowly drove off, he could hear the distinct sound of sirens approaching.

  35

  Pico Island, The Azores

  Jake had dropped off his rental car at the Amsterdam airport, where he had coordinated a flight in the Spanish billionaire’s jet. On the flight, he had heard from Sabine Bauer that the local police in The Hague had taken Rolf Fischer into custody and had promptly transported the man back to Innsbruck, turning him over to the Tirol Polizei. Shaggy was squealing like the stuck pig he had become, saying he was simply following the orders of Verner Kappel. But Sabine wasn’t having that. She had linked Rolf to the leaks in her organization. He was in deep shit.

  Now, Jake sat on the edge of the rock formation down the hill from his small cottage, his fishing rod propped in a fissure. The sea was calm with slow, steady swells moving out with the tide. The sun was nearly at the horizon, but a warm breeze drifted up to Jake.

  “I’m guessing you could use one of these,” came a voice from behind him.

  Jake turned and saw Sirena coming down the path with a bucket of ice. Sticking out of the ice were four bottles of beer.

  “I think it could be beer thirty,” Jake said.

  Sirena set the bucket on the rock and took a seat next to Jake.

  “Did you bring. . .”

  She smiled and pulled a bottle opener from her pocket. Then she opened two bottles and handed one to Jake.

  They sat quietly and sipped their beers as the sun slowly drifted below the horizon.

  Finally, Sirena said, “How was your son?”

  She knew, he thought. Had to know. “I didn’t visit my son,” he admitted.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know where he is right now,” Jake said.

  “You hung back in Europe for a week. Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “I’m guessing you’ve heard about the man from Europol.”

  She shrugged. “I hear things.”

  Jake said nothing for a moment as he drank his beer. Then he said, “I needed to do that on my own. I didn’t want you involved.”

  “Why? I thought we were a team.”

  He reached over and took her hand in his. “I haven’t had the greatest luck with women.”

  She squeezed down on his hand. “I’m a big girl, Jake. I’ve been doing this almost as long as you.”

  “I know. But I don’t know if I can handle. . .” He trailed off without completing his thought.

  “I don’t want to end up in some nursing home wishing I had lived a more interesting life,” she said.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Jake said.

  “Do you want to back off and retire?” she asked.

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She knew, Jake thought. “There’s no telling what the future brings for us. We’ll just have to see what happens next.”

  Sirena raised her brows and took a drink of beer. Then she moved closer to Jake and kissed him passionately on the lips.

  Suddenly, line started to peel off Jake’s reel. He slowly pulled the rod from the fissure, tightened the line, and set the hook. The fight was on.

 

 

 
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