Pushing into the busy traffic, Clive immediately backed the car onto the road and sped forward towards the hospital. Two minutes later he pulled the car into an emergency waiting spot and they both ran in the direction of the entrance.
They both entered Terry’s ward at the same time, banging the twin swinging doors open. Terry was sitting up in bed, all of the tubes and drips were removed, but he was still covered in bandages.
‘Have you seen Liz or Praew?’ Sean asked.
Terry shook his head.
‘Fuck! Where are they,’ Sean’s tone went up an octave.
‘Calm down! We’ll find them, but we have to get Terry out of here now,’ Clive said firmly.
Biting his lip in frustration, Sean quickly helped Clive bundle Terry into a wheelchair. A few minutes later, they were wheeling Terry out of the front door of the hospital.
‘We can’t get him in the car. What are we going to do?’ Sean said.
‘I don’t know,’ Clive responded, as they passed the rental Volkswagen and ran out of the hospital grounds.
‘Wait,’ Sean said and ran back to the car, grabbing the cardboard folder he’d taken from Faustein’s apartment.
‘We may need this,’ he said, when he caught up again.
Terry hadn’t attempted to move or speak during his enforced discharge from the hospital, seemingly understanding that it was best that he just sit in the chair and stay still.
When they’d extracted 400 euros each from the cash machine, Clive walked into a nearby hotel, followed by Sean pushing the wheelchair.
‘We need two twin rooms, please,’ Clive asked the receptionist standing beside the grubby counter in the tired reception area. It was a far cry from the room in the hotel they’d left, but it would be safer.
Once they were safely in the room, Clive instructed Sean to go back the other hotel and gather everything he could from their rooms; computers, passports etc. and then come back.
A sense of foreboding was building in Sean as he made his way back towards the hotel. He ran as fast as he could, dodging between the pedestrians, but not hanging around to apologise when he bumped into some of them.
About thirty metres from the hotel door, he stopped suddenly and pressed himself against a pillar, when he saw two men dressed in dark business suits, leaving the hotel via the main door. One of them was carrying Sean’s messenger bag, the other was wheeling Liz’s suitcase behind him.
As the two men walked away from the hotel, Sean made a quick decision to follow them. Staying close to the edge of the buildings, he walked about thirty metres behind on the busy pavement, keeping them in sight.
A short way along the street, they climbed into the rear of a black Mercedes. Desperate not to lose them, Sean ran into the road and physically stopped a passing cab. ‘Follow… er… schwarz Mercedes,’ he said, pointing to the car the two men had climbed into.
‘It’s okay, I speak English,’ the taxi driver said. ‘You must be James Bond,’ he added.
Two blocks in front of them and getting away, the black Mercedes turned left onto the main road across the Karlsplatz.
‘Quickly, please,’ Sean said as the lights were changing.
Possibly sensing Sean’s panic, the driver sped through the light on amber and took his place four cars behind the Mercedes. Two minutes later it turned right and drove into the Maximilliansplatz, where it slowed down quickly and made a sharp right turn.
‘Shit! I know where this is,’ Sean said to himself as the taxi pulled through the arched gate of the old city wall. A hundred or so metres ahead of them on Prannerstrasse, the Mercedes pulled up outside the offices of Stefan Dorsch.
‘Pull over here,’ Sean said, as he watched the two men climb out of the car and enter Dorsch’s office, carrying the things they’d taken from the hotel.
‘Bayerstrasse. Hotel Krefelderhof, please,’ Sean said, instructing the driver to take him back to the old hotel so that he could see what had been taken.
*
When he entered the room he and Liz had occupied, it had clearly been ransacked in the search for something. He quickly went to the safe, but it had been opened and the contents taken. Then he made his way to Praew’s room, the door wasn’t fully closed and he walked into the same scene, clothes strewn everywhere and the safe open. Shaking with fear, he quickly ran down the corridor to Clive’s room. It too had been ransacked and there was nothing left but clothes. Then the room Pete and Steve shared; the same.
When he ran back out of the lobby onto the street he paused for a while, checking that he wasn’t being followed. He repeated the same procedure six times before he entered the lobby of their new hotel, just three blocks away.
Steve and Pete were already there, having received instructions from Clive not to go back to the old hotel and Sean quickly relayed what he’d seen.
‘We need to go to the police. They’ve got Liz and Praew,’ Sean said.
‘No police yet. We need to know what’s going on first. If the flatfoots go blundering in there, Liz and Praew will be gone, never to be seen again,’ Clive said.
‘What could they want with them?’ Sean asked.
Clive reached across to the table and lifted the blue cardboard folder. ‘My guess is this folder. It must contain something very important,’ he said.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tuesday, 9th February. Munich, Germany.
It was bitterly cold when Liz and Praew left the hotel to return to the hospital, in order to check on Terry. Liz pulled Praew close into her body and huddled her away from the icy gusts of wind, as they both bowed their heads forward.
When they passed Goetherstrasse on the way to Landsbegerstrasse, Liz had already had enough of walking in the cold and she turned to hail a cab. Fortunately, one was just pulling up behind them. Liz helped Praew in to the car and then hopped into the back with her, feeling the sudden relief as the warm air hit her face.
It was only when the car turned right at the end of the street that she started to worry. She chose not to say anything, assuming that they were just being ripped off by a driver not wanting such a low fare, and she didn’t want to make a scene over a few euros. But when the car pulled into a darkened car park behind the train station, she realised that something was wrong. She instinctively grabbed at the door handle trying to push it open… but it was locked.
With panic welling up inside her, she lunged forward to grab the driver’s hair, but he just knocked her arm away easily, before he stopped the car. As the wheels came to a halt on the tarmac surface, Liz reached out for Praew and pulled her closer to her body. With her other hand she felt around in her pocket for a pen. If this bastard is going to try to rape us, he’s going to regret it! she thought, rolling her fingers around the thin round implement.
Just as she was preparing to make a second attack on the driver, this time with the pen in her hand, aiming at his neck; her door opened and a burly man, dressed in a black tracksuit pulled her out of the car.
When her body hit the cold tarmac, she screamed at the top of her voice, but her mouth was covered in seconds by a huge gloved hand, before it was taped closed. When her arms were pulled behind her back and tied, she struggled, but couldn’t get free. On the other side of the car, Praew was fighting like a wild cat, but she too was subdued easily.
The last thing Liz remembered seeing before a hessian sack was placed over her head was Praew biting her assailant’s hand.
The deprivation of the sense of sight made her feel disorientated, as she was pushed forward, held firmly at the top of her arm. She stumbled on a loose stone, then she was forced unpleasantly up a step, into some kind of van. The rancid smell of oil and petrol fumes filled her senses, as her knees were kicked from behind and she fell to the floor, face-down.
Only seconds later, the van started to move and her body bounced up and down against the metal floor painfully, while the hessian scratched at her face. Ignoring the pain, she tried to count the number of times the van turned,
in case it was of any later use, but it was hopeless, and she soon lost count. Then suddenly, only a few minutes after they’d started, the van stopped and the engine was turned off.
The two front doors opened and closed again, then footsteps were coming to the rear door. Suddenly a rush of cold air hit her, as the doors opened. Liz lashed out with her feet into the dark space, but she didn’t connect with anything.
Two hands suddenly grabbed her, pulling her violently out of the van. Then she heard Praew being dragged out behind her. At least she’s with me. After being lifted to her feet, she was frog-marched for about five minutes, through several doors and up three flights of stairs, before she was thrown unceremoniously to the floor and strapped to something cold and solid, with her arms pulled at a painful distance behind her back.
Some shuffling a few metres away made her think that Praew was getting the same treatment, then the footsteps that had brought her there disappeared and a door closed just a short distance from where she lay.
Tied up and unable to see or speak, Liz started to cry softly. She was scared, but her tears weren’t for herself; they were for Praew, who’d been dragged into yet another deadly situation, which was out of her control. When would she ever be able to live without fear? She cursed herself for getting Praew into this situation; then the British Government for wanting to deport her; then Koryalov for bullying her at school. If anybody in the world deserved a good life, it was her!
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tuesday, 9th February. Munich, Germany.
Sean opened the blue cardboard folder, while Clive, Steve and Pete discussed the best way to get to Dorsch.
‘He couldn’t have been there personally. We were watching him and he was thirty kilometres away,’ Pete said.
‘That doesn’t mean his men didn’t do it,’ Clive said.
‘They definitely went into Dorsch’s office. That should be proof enough,’ Sean added, to the agreement of Pete and Steve. Then he returned his attention to the contents of the file.
There were scores of photographs of Anna and Bertram Faustein. On the back of each one; a date, time and place was written clearly and they were all numbered. Placing them to one side for later review, he turned his attention to the papers. There were a number of official looking documents, but all were in German. Even though he couldn’t read them, he had the feeling that they were immigration papers
Pulling out an official looking paper, he scanned the text. It was headed: TRAUSCHEIN, and was marked with the emblem of the Bavarian Government. He quickly keyed the word into a translator on his phone. ‘Marriage Certificate,’ he said to himself, then started to read the detail.
Bertram Elmar Faustein, born 21/04/1975, Landsberg-am-Lech, Bayern, Deutchland. Married Anna Maria Ruiz, born 12/02/1977, Cuiaba, Mato Grosso, Brasilien, on 05/03/1998.
‘Anna’s Brazilian?’ Sean said, stunned by the revelation.
‘What? She doesn’t look it,’ Clive replied, ‘or sound like it for that matter.’
Shaking his head, Sean scanned some of the photos from the pile, noting her long dark brown hair. ‘She did, until she cut her hair and died it blonde,’ Sean said. ‘I guess her skin is quite dark. I just thought she was tanned,’ he added.
‘What else is in the file,’ Clive asked.
‘It just looks like immigration stuff: the documents and proof of a real relationship, so that she could get German residence, I guess.’
‘Why would that be hidden?’ Clive said.
‘I don’t know,’ Sean said, shrugging, ‘unless the marriage was a sham of course, just to get a German passport. No MEP would want that to get out. They’d have their passport removed and be deported,’ he added.
‘If that’s all it is, where do the Nazis fit in? There has to be more to it,’ Clive suggested.
Sean knew from experience that when Clive suspected something was incomplete, he was usually right. On the BW investigation he had forced Sean and Liz to look beyond the obvious and find the key links between the various players. But Sean was distracted now, thinking about Liz and Praew, and couldn’t concentrate on the detail. He scrambled aimlessly through the remaining documents, but nothing stood out.
‘What are we going to do about Liz?’ Sean asked.
‘We’re working on it, but it isn’t going to be easy without weapons,’ Clive said.
‘Can’t you get some?’ Sean asked, remembering the virtual armoury that they’d taken to Dubrovnik.
‘Not at this short notice in Germany,’ he replied.
*
Ten minutes later, Clive broke from his huddle with Pete and Steve and called Sean over. ‘Okay, here’s the plan … ’ he started.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tuesday, 9th February. Munich, Germany.
Liz felt around with her fingers. The cold floor tiles and damp smell made her think that she was in a bathroom. When she heard a movement a few metres away, she made a humming sound through the tape on her mouth. The sound that returned confirmed that it was Praew. In a way she was relieved that Praew was still with her; at least, she hadn’t been taken somewhere else. But guilt still riffled through her mind about putting the vulnerable young girl in this situation in the first place. Then a horrible thought occurred to her: maybe she and Sean weren’t suitable parents for such a girl after all. Maybe the Home Office rules were right!
Trying to banish the thought, she pulled her shoulders forward, forcing her wrists against the pillar that was restraining her, but the thin straps cut into her painfully. Whatever it was that she was tied to was solid and immovable.
Trying something else, she managed to wriggle onto her side and kick out at the surrounding area. When her knee struck something cold and hard, she winced with pain, but still tried to assess what it was by stroking it with her leg. It felt like the side of a bath. Her previous instincts were good: they were in a bathroom.
Carefully assimilating all of the information she could, she also knew that they were still very close to where they’d been taken from, as the drive in the van had been less than five minutes. She hoped the proximity would help Clive and Sean piece together the clues and come to find them.
When her thoughts turned to Sean, a pang of guilt hit her stomach. She knew that she hadn’t been treating him well since the lawyer had suggested that Praew’s situation would be more secure if she and Sean didn’t live together. She had mistakenly concluded in her mind that they had no choice: he’d have to move out and then it would be only a matter of time before their relationship broke down. That conclusion had led her to withdraw from him, to shun his affections, somehow in the belief that it would be better that way; that he might feel it was good that they parted.
Now, in a cold dark space, lost and terrified, clarity came to her. She wasn’t willing to lose either Sean or Praew, and if she could get out of the current situation, she’d fight. She wouldn’t hide her relationship with Sean from some petty bureaucrats; she’d flaunt it. Sean was and would be a good father to Praew and a good partner to her: he was loyal, caring and trustworthy, and Liz knew that he loved both her and Praew deeply. She knew that he’d risk his own life to protect them. Indeed, he had, a number of times.
She bit the inside of her lip, regretting that she hadn’t told him how much she loved him, and told him that they’d get through it together, not apart. Now she’d been kidnapped and taken; possibly to her death!
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tuesday, 9th February. Munich, Germany.
It was early in the evening and Munich was blanketed by dark clouds. As the freezing night air washed over Sean’s face, he reflected upon everything that had happened to him since he’d met Liz and rescued Praew. They had been the best times of his life, even though for most of it he’d been recovering from injury. To wake up next to Liz each morning and watch her as she went about her daily chores gave him more pleasure than anything else he’d ever experienced. And seeing Praew develop from the lost and frightened girl, who
didn’t speak any English, to the intelligent and thoughtful young lady she was today, full of hope for the future, brought a tear to his eye.
You’re not going to take that away from her, or Liz from me, he thought, focussing his anger on Dorsch, as Steve’s voice came over the concealed headset.
‘He’s on his way home. Looks like he’s got company this time: one in front about twenty metres; and one behind, about fifty metres,’ Steve said.
Sean’s muscles tensed. He’d always relied on Clive’s men to tackle the more professional criminals they’d encountered. This time it was up to him, Steve and Pete would be otherwise detained and Clive’s ability was limited by his injury.
Anger fuelled his body, as he stared out from behind his position, hidden between two vans on the exclusive street where Dorsch’s apartment was situated. When Dorsch’s first guard passed, scanning the area ahead of him, Sean recognised the guard as one of the two people he’d seen leaving his hotel. It was further proof that Dorsch was the right target. He had Liz and Praew, and scared as he was, it firmed up his resolve to act.
A few seconds later, Dorsch passed, walking the same way he had previously, head held high, as if he owned the world and feared nobody.
‘Okay, let’s go,’ Steve said.
Suddenly acting on autopilot, Sean straightened and shot forward from his position, sprinting towards Dorsch, determined to make the impact heavy enough to floor the German. Pete had drilled into him how important the element of surprise was when fighting a better-equipped enemy.
As he launched himself at Dorsch like a rugby player heading into a tackle, Dorsch turned suddenly, but it was too late, Sean hit him at full speed, arms around his waist and sent him tumbling to the ground. Sean landed on top of him heavily. Then, out of nowhere, Clive appeared, grabbing at the shocked Dorsch’s arms as best he could, trying to secure him. Sean grabbed his legs and pressured them to the ground, as the muscular Dorsch struggled.
sThe Quiet Wart Page 20
