by Jay Giles
Together, they rode the elevator down to the first floor. Conference room ‘C’ was in the core of the building, so there were no windows. Casper found that comforting. At one point, he’d thought about using this room as his office but knew people would think that strange.
They found Lohse and Marin standing on the far side of the conference table. Introductions were made, hands shaken, seats taken, Marin and Lohse on one side of the conference table, Casper and Chance on the other.
Lohse surprised Casper. He’d been expecting a beancounter. A nervous skinny guy with glasses. Instead, across the table, he saw the rugged, battle-tested face of a veteran. Lohse’s demeanor was polite, deferential, but there was a no-nonsense quality about him that said he was used to taking charge.
“Mr. Lohse, Mr. Marin,” Casper began, “The Bureau appreciates your assistance in this matter. Let me bring you up-to-date on our investigation.” Over the next twenty minutes, he detailed what they’d learned about Perlman and the ransom demand.
Lohse took notes on a small pad of Gulf Shores paper. At the mention of the ransom demand, he spoke for the first time. “May I see it, please?”
Casper passed the plastic encased sheet of paper across the table.
Lohse’s face hardened as he studied it. He passed it to Marin, who read it quickly, returned it across the table.
“I think we have to take this,” Casper nodded at the note, “at face value. We won’t hear from these people again.” He took a deep breath, studied Lohse’s face. “It’s my understanding Daimler has chosen not to pay the ransom, which leaves—”
Lohse grimaced. “Please,” he said, holding up his hands. “Let me clarify the company’s position. It is not that they will not pay. It is that they will not pay unless I authorize that payment.” He stood, placed a business card on the desk in front of Casper, sat back down.
Wernher Lohse
Special Operations Director
Authorized to act on behalf of the company
by the Daimler AG Board of Directors
Lohse cradled his hands in front of him. His voice was calm, authoritative. “My role is to assist you in bringing this matter to a successful conclusion. If payment is needed in order to achieve a successful outcome, I will authorize payment.” He paused, his gaze met Casper’s, held it. “Please understand that Daimler refuses to capitulate to criminals. To the company, payment is a last resort.”
Casper leaned forward on his elbows. “I hate to say it, but we may be at that point now. We have no leads, no dialog with these people.”
“That’s why I must be inserted into the equation,” Lohse said. “My presence will change the paradigm.”
“I’m not sure I follow you,” Casper admitted.
“What if we were to make an announcement in the press that I am here to represent Daimler in securing Beck’s release—but that I will only authorize the payment if I receive proof of life. The kidnappers would be forced to contact us.”
Casper listened, nodded. “I see where you’re headed. But I’m not sure an announcement in the press is going to get the job done.
There’s no guarantee the kidnappers will see—”“They’ll see it,” Lohse said with a knowing smile.
That bugged Casper. His jaw tightened, jutting forward his chin. “How can you be sure?”
“Money,” Lohse said simply. “But we are getting off point. The press conference is only a stage prop. We must concentrate on the difference in this kidnapping. It is the kidnappers’ Achilles heel.” Lohse paused, his gaze traveled to Chance, back to Casper. “Most kidnappers find a hole and hide,” he continued. “Not this group. Instead of hiding, I am convinced they are watching.”
“Watching? Watching who, exactly?”
Lohse grinning. “You, Agent Casper. They probably started watching you when you found the car.” His grin broadened. “They are outside this building, right now, watching.”
Casper cocked his head, looked at Lohse skeptically. “What makes you so certain about that?”
“I believe there is a pattern here. It starts with the car. The car was left where it would be easily found. They watch the car, see who comes to deal with it. Now they know who within the FBI is pursuing this matter. They knew once you found the ransom demand, you would do the right thing and contact the company.”
“But that’s where it ends. They couldn’t know Diamler would send someone.”
“Does it end there?” Lohse challenged easily. “Let’s play this out. Once contacted, what options does Daimler have? They blindly pay the ransom. They send someone to assess the situation and secure Beck’s release. Or they write Beck off. There are really only the three.” He shook his head, sighed. “I believe the kidnappers are smart enough to know Daimler would neither pay blindly nor write Beck off. That leaves sending someone to assess the situation. That person would have to meet with those at the FBI handling the investigation. That’s why they are now watching. When I leave this building, they will know I am that person and they will watch me.”
“You think they’ll contact you?” Casper asked.
“They must be compelled to contact me. That’s why we are going to rearrange the agenda. To do this, I need the Bureau’s help.”
Surprisingly, Casper found himself agreeing with Lohse. He felt his jaw relax. “Tell me what you have in mind.”
Lohse leaned back in his chair. “As I said, I would like to stage an announcement that the media, the public could attend. Since their pattern is to watch, I believe they will have someone from the cell attend. If we could clandestinely photograph those in attendance, we might be able to identify a member or members of the cell.” Lohse paused, as if considering what he was about to say next. “If we could do this in real time—play these photos against your criminal data base—we might be able to make an arrest.”
Casper’s mind was racing. He could stage this press conference, have his video surveillance team capture the images, send them WiFi to be scrubbed against their database. “How soon do you see this happening?”
“Tomorrow. But the key issue is not timing, but ownership.” Lohse gestured with his hand at Casper and Chance. “You could hold this press conference. My concern is that if it is seen an FBI event, the kidnappers might suspect a trap and not attend. As a Daimler AG event, it feels more like an appeal from the company for Beck’s return.”
Smooth, Casper thought. You’ve just taken over the press conference. I’m relegated to the facilitator role, here to do your bidding. Casper’s chin jutted out again. He knew he had to push back, reassert some control. “Let’s understand a couple of things, Mr. Lohse. It can be your press conference, but it’s the FBI’s investigation. We’re in charge. We’ll be the ones determining how this investigation moves forward.”
Lohse smiled contritely. “I am here only to assist your efforts.” What bullshit. The moment you’re out the door, you’ll be running your own operation and telling us a little as possible. Casper glanced over at Chance. She and Marin had been silent while he and Lohse banged heads. “Agent Chance, I’d like you to coordinate this event with Mr. Lohse.”
Lohse held up his hand. “The one thing I ask is that you let us select the location. I want these people watching to see our finding the site for the announcement.”
“Okay, you do that. We’ll—”Lohse’s hand bobbed up. “Oh, and we should handle publicity. Daimler has very extensive media contacts.”
Casper glared at Lohse. “Anything else?”
Lohse’s hands were once again folded neatly in front of him. “No, I don’t believe so,” he said innocently.
CHAPTER 29
After seeing Lohse and Marin out, Hanna stuck her head in Casper’s doorway, found him hunched over his laptop, keyboarding furiously. Hanna saw his notes from the meeting, the Beck file on the desk in front of him. Hanna knocked on the door frame.
Casper’s gaze darted her way, returned to the screen. “C’mon in. This will only take a minute.”
Casper finished, swiveled around in his chair to face her. “What did you think of Lohse?”
Hanna tried to suppress a smile. “When I was little, my brothers had G.I. Joe comic books. I kind of flashed back to that at the beginning of the meeting. Loshe was the personification of G.I. Joe. Big. Thick. Muscular.”
Casper pulled a sheet of paper from his printer. “I ran a check on him. Guy’s the real deal.”
Hanna did a quick scan, wasn’t surprised to see Lohse was ex-military. “He was smooth,” she added grudgingly. “But it was a practiced smooth, as if he turns it on and off.” She tried to read Casper’s expression. “You think he’s going to go solo on us?”
Casper shook his head. “Doesn’t suit his purposes. He wants us to do his bidding.”
“Then why did you go along with his press conference idea?” Hanna had been dumbfounded Casper had rolled-over so quickly.
“No choice.” He raised his wrist, looked at his watch. “Beck’s over 48 hours missing and we’ve got zip.” His gaze shifted to her. Hanna thought she saw a spark in his eyes, missing before. “We let Lohse stir things up for us, see if these people take the bait. That’s why I want you staying close to Lohse, watching over this press conference. My gut tells me he’s the key to resolving this matter.”
• • •
After they left the FBI building, Lohse said, “Let’s get a bite to eat where we can talk.”
Miles took them to Azure, a small restaurant not far away. Under different names and management, Azure had been a Thai restaurant, seafood house, all-you-can-eat buffet, and franchise steak place. The current incarnation specialized in nouvelle cuisine.
As they were being shown to a table, Lohse surveyed the room, asked if they could have the table in the far corner. The maitre ’d, an older man, shrugged, picked up the menus, carried them over to their new table.
Lohse chose the seat that gave him a view of the room. Miles took the chair across from him. “This is good,” Lohse said, “you chose well.”
Their waitress, a college-aged woman, hair in a ponytail, dressed in black slacks and a tight, midriff top that revealed a roll of fat and belly button ring, arrived for drink orders. She scratched her head with the tip of her pencil. “The specialty of the day is Martinis. Can I start you off with one?”
Lohse ordered coffee, Miles water.
They studied the menus, ordered their food when the drinks arrived. After the waitress departed, Lohse said so softly Miles had to strain to hear, “Now we can talk.”
Miles, uncertain what Lohse wanted to accomplish, nodded.
“I must know how far I can count on you,” Lohse said.
“What do you mean?”
Lohse took a sip of his coffee, carefully set the mug back down in the center of a coaster. “You could play an important role in freeing Beck,” he said slowly and carefully. He looked up, met Miles’ gaze. “It could be quite dangerous.” He watched for a reaction. “Does that frighten you?”
A grin appeared on Miles’ face. “I’ve put myself in danger, a time or two. It doesn’t frighten me. I’d just like to know what I’m getting into. All I was told was to meet you at the airport and do whatever you wanted.”
Lohse nodded, knowingly. “Kidnappings are not new to me. I handle these missions for Daimler using whatever methods are needed for a satisfactorily conclusion. This is the fourth one I have worked. In all four, I was able to secure the return of hostages. Unharmed. There is no doubt in my mind we can find and free Jens Beck. But in the process, you may be placed at risk.”
“How?’
“These kidnappers have structured their ransom demand so there is no contact. Our press conference will change that, it will compel contact. To maintain as much anonymity as possible, there is a chance they may feel the need to eliminate the only person who can identify a member of the cell.”
“Me.”
Lohse studied Miles, didn’t detect fear. “There is that chance, yes.”
“You don’t honestly expect one of them to attend this press conference, do you?”
“Their pattern is to watch,” Lohse said matter-of-factly. “I see no reason for them to break their pattern. If we have a good media turnout, if that draws a crowd of curious people, the cell will feel they can blend. I doubt they will send the person who called herself Joanna Perlman, but there is always the possibility she will attend in disguise.”
“How would I recognize her?”
“You’d be surprised. Most disguises are superficial. A wig, hat, sunglasses. Perhaps different clothing. That does nothing to hide a person’s body shape, facial features, movement. Disguises sometimes make a person easier to spot. And remember, our friends at the FBI will be photographing those in attendance. Even if you don’t see her, they may discover someone of interest and we gain a lead to follow.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Miles said as the waitress served their entrées—Miles had ordered the Caesar Salad with Chicken, Lohse a New York cut steak.
Lohse chewed a bite of steak, washed it down with a swallow of coffee, looked over at Miles. “What do you think? Do you feel better about this, now?”
Miles finished a bite of his salad, nodded. “I can handle what you’re asking.”
Lohse was about to eat another bit of steak. The fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Good, we are a team,” he said with a grin. “Any idea where we can hold this conference, teammate?”
Miles face lit up. “I know just the place. It’s famous, too.”
• • •
Casper was alone in his office, Chance having been sent away with a to do list on the Beck matter. He had one last thing to do before he left for the day. He texted O’Neill. “Have met with Mercedes representative. Setting up press conference to make appeal to kidnappers.” Message sent, Casper left.
• • •
Back at the Gulf Shores, Lohse picked up the phone, asked the operator to connect him with Gerhardt’s room. Once he had Gerhardt on the phone, he arranged to meet him at Beck’s room in half-an-hour’s time.
Gerhardt was not someone Lohse had known at Mercedes, but when the two met, he felt the kinship of being a fellow German in a foreign land. Gerhardt welcomed him warmly, thanking him for arriving so promptly, offered him a beer.
Lohse declined. The two men took seats in the suite’s living room. Gerhardt on the sofa, Lohse on a side chair. “Gerhardt,” Lohse began, “there are some questions I need to ask. The police may have already asked you these questions, but I need to hear the answers for myself.”
Gerhardt nodded.
“Who within the company knew you would be staying here for the tennis tournament?”
“I don’t know who Jens may have told, but to my knowledge, only Jen’s director knew we would be at this hotel. Everyone else knew only to reach us via phone numbers.”
“Have you seen anyone from the company since you’ve been here?”
“No.”
“Have you had an unusual amount of interest from anyone within the company?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“Was anyone paying you undo attention?”
Gerhardt thought for a moment. “No, not from the company. The advertising agencies are always needy, demanding constant attention, but I can’t believe one of them is involved in this.”
Lohse thought Gerhardt had put it kindly. To Lohse, advertising agencies appeared to be bickering children, constantly clamoring for more money. “This woman, Joanna Perlman, claimed to be with one of the agencies, didn’t she?”
“Yes. Well, no. She said she was with an agency, but it wasn’t one of our roster agencies. Jens was going to add an agency. This woman, Perlman, wanted her agency to be considered.”
“Did you see her? Talk to her on the phone?”
Gerhardt’s shoulders slumped. “No. Arrangements were made through a local Mercedes salesman, Mile
s Marin.”
“I’ve met him,” Lohse confirmed. “Have any of the roster agencies acted differently?”
Gerhardt rubbed his chin. “Not really. We were to have had meetings in New York with one of our agencies this week. They were curious why we cancelled until I told them Jens was ill, dehydrated from playing the tournament in this heat.”
“Did Jens act any differently while you were here? Was he tense? Upset?”
Gerhardt gave a fleeting smile. “No. For once there was no agency crisis to divert his attention from tennis. In fact, he commented to me how restful this stay had been.”
Lohse leaned forward. “Gerhardt, when did Jens sign up for this tournament?”
Gerhardt seemed at a loss. “I don’t know exactly. It was some—”
“A month? Six months? A year?”
“Six months, I suppose. Maybe more.”
“So it has been on his calendar all this time?”
“Yes.”
“Besides you, who would have access to his calendar?”
Gerhardt’s eyes went wide. “No one.”
Lohse fixed Gerhardt in his gaze. “Think, Gerhardt. Whoever kidnapped Jens knew he would be here. This wasn’t a spur of the moment event, it was carefully planned far in advance.”
Gerhardt wilted. “I am discrete with his schedule, I protect him. I would not allow anyone to have knowledge of his movements.”
Lohse smiled, made his voice warm, assuring. “Gerhardt, I am not accusing you. You were the person closest to Jens. I must draw on that knowledge. Together, we must discover who knew, who planned this horrible event.”
“I understand. I will go back in time, review who might have known.”
Lohse looked at his watch, five minutes to 6:00. Almost time to meet Marin. He gave Gerhardt his room and cell phone numbers, stood, said good-bye.
As Lohse walked back to his room, he flirted briefly with the thought that Gerhardt’s reluctance might stem from involvement in the scheme. Dismissed it. Lohse considered himself a good judge of people. In Gerhardt, he saw a loyalist who gained his identity from the man he served. Without Beck, Gerhardt was empty, alone, terrified.
