“No. Why?”
Jansch looked over his shoulder at the open door. He closed it. “Does Kistler know about the phone tap?” he asked. Again Hoffman shook his head.
“I haven’t broken that piece of news to him. Probably won’t. Why?”
Jansch was thoughtful for a while. “Remember Schiller phoned his daughter-in-law and told her about this “covenant” he intends signing?”
“Yes. Go on.”
“Well, she phoned Kistler this morning and told him. She made him promise not to tell anyone; said it was imperative we found her son within forty-eight hours and Kistler was to find some way of speeding it all up.” Jansch then affected a look of surprise. “And he hasn’t said anything to you?”
It was Hoffman’s turn to be thoughtful. Ordinarily the Doctor would have come into his office, took him into his confidence and urged him to throw everything into the investigation; so why not now?
“Perhaps Doctor Kistler believes we are doing the best we can,” he suggested to Jansch, tongue in cheek, “and is ignoring the pleas of a desperate woman. Perfectly normal thing in the circumstances, wouldn’t you say?”
Jansch had to agree. Perhaps his boss was right and Kistler was simply being reasonable and discerning.
“Well, perhaps you’re right,” he admitted. “I just thought it strange, that’s all.”
Hoffman thanked him anyway, but in his own mind, his boss was beginning to worry him. It was true, however, that Kistler was in the fortunate position of being able to control his own situation: he could quietly distance himself from any scandal if it looked as though he was about to be compromised. And it was unlikely, unless he was very unlucky, that Hoffman could produce factual evidence against him.
“We’ll concentrate on the central points of this kidnap, Uwe. Worry about Doctor Kistler later.”
As Jansch left the office he stopped and looked as though he was about to say something. Then he thought better of it and closed the door behind him. But Hoffman was worried. Jansch was a very observant policeman, perceptive and shrewd, and he could smell a rat.
And the rat was occupying the highest office in the North Rhine Police Force.
*
Conor told Joanna everything, leaving out his part in the deaths of Jurgen and Oscar. The expression on her face had slowly turned to one of abhorrence as he revealed the depths of deception and violence that had permeated the lives of all those involved, voluntarily or not, in the kidnap. She could not help but remember that her dead husband, Hans, would have been a willing party to the sickening methods employed by Molke’s thugs.
When Conor had finished, Joanna shuddered. It was more like a spasm and seemed to shake her from the mood that gripped her. She felt the need to reciprocate Conor’s honesty. She didn’t like him. Detested him even, but she found herself believing him and recognised the risk he had taken in coming to her.
“Do you know why you kidnapped my son?”
He shook his head. “It was none of my business.”
She visibly gasped. “I can’t believe you said that.”
He was sitting in a black, leather armchair, looking quite relaxed and comfortable. For all the world he could have been a friend paying a social call. He opened his hands in a gesture of resignation.
“It’s what I am trained to do. I’m a mercenary, I work for money: not for a creed. I do the job, they pay me, and I go home.” He put his hands back on his lap. “It’s as simple as that. Don’t try to understand it, because you won’t. Now, tell me why they wanted your son kidnapped.”
Joanna noticed he referred to his former paymasters as ‘they’. Perhaps he was trying to distance himself from them, she wondered. Not that it would have made any difference to her feelings about him. If she could find a way of handing him over to the police without risking her son’s life, she would.
“Well,” she began. “My father-in-law is going to sign a covenant handing over his entire business empire to the Israelis. Franz Molke wants control of that empire.” She looked down at the back of her hands and began massaging her fingers nervously. “He will almost certainly become Chancellor of Germany.” She raised her head rather haltingly and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “So, with the Federal Government now in the new Reichstag building in Berlin, Molke will be Chancellor and will dominate a united Europe once the European Constitution is signed by the member States, which it probably will be within a few months, especially since Molke employs thugs like you to intimidate people.” Conor ignored the barb.
Joanna stopped speaking and got up from her chair. She folded her arms and began pacing up and down.
“I simply cannot believe my baby is the key to the domination of Europe.” She paused and glanced sternly at Conor. “There’s more to it than this, you know. Do you realise that?”
Conor continued to stare at her. “Why do you say that?”
Without answering, Joanna walked over to the wall safe. She opened it and took out the computer discs. She went across to the computer and inserted one into the disc drive. The computer hummed into life. “This,” she said, tapping in the correct password, “is one of my husband’s files. It’s a letter to Franz Molke, Minister of the Interior and head of the Volkspartei. Read it.”
Conor did as he was asked. For a man who had operated on the dark fringes of politics where governments played their dirty war games, Conor saw more than just a political dream and one man’s quest for absolute power. But there was something that bothered him more than the aspirations of a political demagogue.
“You say your father-in-law, Manfred Schiller, intends handing over his entire empire to the Israelis?”
“Yes. But don’t ask me why; it’s too complicated.” She went back to her chair and sat down, tucking her feet up beneath her.
“How much is Schiller’s empire worth?” Conor asked.
Joanna pursed her lips. “Pick a number, add as many noughts as you like and you’re not even close. No one knows. He owns several satellites and is planning to put more into orbit. They must be worth at least four hundred million each. He has a great deal of control over world communication traffic. He owns shipping companies, airlines, and a massive electronics industry. He owns armament manufacturers, pharmaceutical companies. He’s involved in food production, oil, gas.” She tapered off and remained silent for a moment.
“Is there anything he doesn’t own?” Connor asked.
Joanna smiled ruefully. “I suppose it would be easier to tell you what he is not in.”
Conor whistled gently through his teeth and went back to the black armchair. He lowered himself into it slowly.
“You can’t give control like that to the Israelis,” he said.
Joanna cocked her head to one side. “Why not,” she replied phlegmatically. “What does it matter who owns it?”
“You cannot give control like that to the Israelis?” he said with more urgency in his voice. “You just cannot do it. It isn’t just a matter of who owns what, but the power it places in someone’s hands. The Israeli people, as nice as they are, belong to a country born out of violence. They have fought and suffered for everything they have since the beginning of time. They will go on suffering because of the unique position they hold in the world of religion and Middle East politics. At the moment they depend a great deal on America for ideological and financial support. They have a powerful Jewish lobby in the senate and in congress in America, but the Muslims are gradually weakening that power base and will certainly weaken Israel because of it.”
Conor was quiet for a moment and thoughtful. Joanna waited but said nothing. Conor went on.
“Take away the need for America’s help and indulgence; put complete independence in the hands of an extreme, right wing Israeli government, and that could happen with Schiller’s empire in their possession, and they would turn world politics inside out. The Middle East would become a war zone and drag the entire world into another conflict.”
Joanna was unimp
ressed. “It’s nothing to do with me,” she rebutted haughtily. “It’s my father-in-law’s business, not mine. I’m more interested in getting my son back,” she reminded him.
“If we get him back, then Schiller will be happy and sign over to the Israelis, right?” Joanna nodded. He went on. “So we get your baby back and we don’t tell him.”
She shook her head in despair. “I don’t think my baby is a key in my father-in-law’s plans anymore. And keeping my baby’s safe return a secret will not do any good at all. I can’t keep my child’s return a secret for long, you know. Couple of weeks and the world will know.” She leaned forward. “Like I said, it will not make any difference; Schiller has decided to sign whether my baby is back with me or not.”
It didn’t surprise Conor. The life of an infant did not weigh heavily against such an enormous handover of power. And why Molke’s people had believed they could sway the old man’s position by kidnapping his grandson, he had no idea. He thought about the boy’s father Hans, who was now dead. In him Molke had seen the future. Now that way was closed perhaps he was getting desperate? Perhaps Molke thought he could use the baby as a lever. He decided not to dwell on the reasons why. The fact was, the baby had been kidnapped and he, Conor, needed to find out where Breggie was so he could resolve two issues: revenge and rescue.
“If I get your grandson back, will you try to persuade Schiller not to go ahead with his plan?”
“I’d be wasting my breath,” she told him. “He didn’t become the most powerful businessman in the world by listening to people like me.”
“You underestimate yourself. You are closer to him than anyone else.”
She pulled a face. “Not where his business interests are concerned.” She was about to say something else but suddenly checked herself. She studied him for a while, an expression of curiosity on her face. “Why are you so concerned about what happens to my father-in-law’s interests?”
He leaned forward, his hands held together as though to make a point. “Look, the Israeli people have lived with violence for a good many years. Everyone knows that. They have shown no fear when it comes to protecting their land. They have even gone to war to annexe other peoples’ land.” He ticked some off on his fingers. “Egypt, the Sinai desert, Syria, the Golan Heights. They redefined the Jordanian border and established a secure zone in southern Lebanon. They call it ‘protecting their borders’.” He said that with a lot of cynicism. “They are lovely people, but they are as hard as nails and will put up with no nonsense from anybody. The only reason they have returned some of the land they occupied is because of pressure from the West, particularly the Americans.”
“What’s all this got to do with my son?” she asked testily. “I didn’t get you in here to listen to a history lesson.”
“Just let me finish and maybe you’ll see why it’s just as important that you try to use your influence and stop Schiller.”
“And hand it to Molke instead?” she questioned scornfully.
“No. If Schiller doesn’t sign his empire over to the Israelis, it will be handed down to your grandson after Schiller’s death. It will still be a corporate empire. The point is,” he shuffled in his seat, “governments are more dangerous than business empires. I’ve killed people on behalf of the British Government. On behalf of the British taxpayer,” he said pointedly. “Think about that. And not all Irishmen, I might add. A Government will seek to influence others by strength, and it will do it covertly if it has to. A businessman will only seek to influence others if he is going to make a profit. If he sees a loss, he’ll move out. Once the Israelis have enough financial independence to drop their reliability on the Yanks, they will assume a more proactive role in the affairs of others.” He thrust as finger towards her. “And when the Arabs find out, the whole Middle East will blow up, believe me.”
“I think you are talking nonsense. And I don’t know why you are telling me all this anyway. It has nothing to do with me.”
He got up. “OK, let’s forget about the Israelis for now and figure out where your son is.”
Joanna looked relieved for a brief moment. “OK, so why does this, ‘Dutchman’ whoever he is, think he’ll find Breggie de Kok’s whereabouts here?”
Conor shook his head. “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me that.”
She uncurled her legs from beneath her and rubbed some life back into them. Her hair fell forward over her shoulder and she brushed it back. “This Dutchman obviously knows more about the de Kok woman and my husband than we do.”
“Were they having an affair?” he asked. Joanna’s head shot up. Her eyes glared at him in such a profound way that he knew he had touched a nerve. “Were they?”
“And what if they were?”
He shrugged and lifted his hands in the air. “Well, I don’t know. Perhaps there will be some letters among his personal effects. Perhaps they had a love nest somewhere.”
They both snapped to the same conclusion at the same instant. Conor stopped in a statuesque pose as Joanna sat bolt upright in her chair.
“There was, wasn’t there?” he said.
Joanna got up without saying a word and went over to the computer. She closed the current file and opened the one titled ‘Breggie’. Conor watched over her shoulder. Joanna sensed his presence and became very self-conscious as she scrolled through the file. She could feel her cheeks warming with uncomfortable embarrassment as the depth of her husband’s indiscretion with Breggie de Kok was revealed. But if this was the way to find her baby, she was prepared to suffer any humiliation.
Twenty minutes later, after switching from one file to another, Joanna sighed and let her head drop in a kind of exhausted triumph.
“Koblenz, on the river.” She glanced up at Conor. “I know the place.”
His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Really? He didn’t take you there, surely?”
She shook her head and laughed a little. “No, nothing as bizarre as that. We drove past the apartments once and he told me he wanted to buy one for me. I didn’t like them, so he didn’t buy one. At least,” she corrected herself, “not for me it seems.”
She got up from the desk and stretched. “I’m hungry,” she declared. “And I suppose you are too.”
“I could eat the proverbial horse,” he told her. “But I didn’t think you would be willing to feed me.”
Her eyes, deep pools of pure joy in which Conor would happily have immersed himself, held his gaze.
“I’m not,” she said levelly. “But I can hardly eat on my own.” She picked up the phone and ordered sandwiches and coffee. “Well,” she said, putting the phone down, “while we wait for those, you might as well tell me how you intend getting my son back.”
They walked over to the chairs and sat down again. As Conor opened his mouth to speak, an alarm tone sounded from the computer. They both turned towards the direction of the noise. Conor was mildly curious but Joanna was far from being curious. She gasped and leapt from her chair.
“Some bastard’s hacking in,” she shouted, and ran across to the desk. She hurled herself into the chair and began tapping the keys furiously. From where Conor was sitting he could only see the screen changing. Joanna kept looking from the keyboard to the screen. Whatever it was she was doing, she was working with tremendous speed.
Conor watched transfixed as she ejected the disc from the drive. Then she opened a drawer in the desk and searched furiously for something. Suddenly she pulled a disc out and read the label. With a little body movement of triumph, she inserted the disc into the drive and loaded its contents into the computer’s memory bank.
Then she sank back in her chair. “Bastard!” she said again.
Conor was transfixed. Somehow Joanna had changed her character in an instant. It was almost as if he had witnessed a metamorphosis in which the desolate young mother had become a different person. A rage had filled her and her reaction had been swift and pointed.
“What was all that about?” he asked,
surprise still colouring his face.
She turned sharply, and then looked back at the screen. “Someone was hacking in. I don’t know what they were after.” She typed in a few more instructions to the computer. “Might have been some computer nerds surfing. Seeing who was on line.”
“You weren’t on line though.”
She looked round again. “I was.” She looked irritated. “My husband always disliked having to instruct the computer to go on line, particularly if he was working on low grade stuff, so the computer is programmed to go on line automatically as soon as it’s powered up.” She gave a little giggle. “It only takes a few moments to go on line, but, that was Hansi; time was precious.”
“What was that disc you put in?”
“Oh, my retribution.” She was looking back at the screen now. “It’s another programme I wrote. It seeks out the hacker and plants a very nasty virus in his software.”
“Always?”
“Not necessarily. First you’ve got find him. Then you’ve got to hope he’s not as smart as you are, otherwise he would have built some kind of firewall in to protect himself against little nasties like that.”
Conor’s warring instincts were heightened by this sudden insight into conflict on the internet. “You’re quite happy to do that to each other?”
“Wouldn’t you?” she asked. Then she said with bland irony; “Well, maybe you wouldn’t. You would take a gun and blow their brains out.”
He ignored her jibe. “You know how to write programmes then?”
She gave him a withering look. “It’s what I do. I have an honours degree in Computer Science. I cut my teeth on advanced computer technology.” Her expression changed. It became wistful. “That’s how I met my husband; at Cambridge. He was there on some post graduate course.” She let the moment drift away.
A knock at the door made them both turn quickly. The sound had intruded on them, cutting through the irony of Joanna’s attitude towards the hacker. One of the staff came in and placed a tray filled with sandwiches and fruit on the table. Coffee came with it too. She made a little gesture and left the room.
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