The control tower winked in the sun. At the far end of the airfield the last of the Buzzards was taxiing into line, the image rippling in the heat coming off the runways. The sound of its engines swelled and died.
I turned to the base Commander, who’d joined me to watch the proceedings, and we walked back to the base buildings together. Colonel “Red” Nicholson equalled me for height, and although he must have been knocking fifty still had a brush of carrot-red hair. I’d already thanked him for his prompt and effective response but I felt the need to say something more.
“You saved those girl’s lives, Commander. Not to mention mine.”
His freckled face creased in a grin. “Colonel, it was real good for my boys to carry out a genu-iyne mission instead of th’ usual exercises. So long as you can explain to those Mexican folk why we went in there—”
“I’m sure Washington can handle it,” I said, with a confidence I in no way felt.
The air-conditioning hit me with an icy blast as we entered his office.
“You need a coffee? Something stronger? I got some real powerful liquor in that filing cabinet.” He jerked his head towards it.
“Thanks, I’d love to, but some other time. Right now I need to move quickly. Do you have a holoconference suite on site?”
“We sure do.”
He picked up a phone, held a brief conversation, and put it down again. “Master Sergeant Chuck McKenzie going t’help you with that.” We waited in silence for a few minutes, then there was a knock at the door. “That’ll be him now. Cm’in!”
McKenzie was in his early forties, rosy-cheeked and overweight. He led me back into the baking sun, rocking from side to side as he walked, arms out wide, a dark patch spreading under each armpit. We entered another block and he pointed along the corridor.
“The suite’s down there, last door on the left. You want some help running it?”
“I just need the conference settings for this guy. Is there a phone round here I could use?”
“C’n use mine. This is my office in here.”
He opened the door and we went inside. It was crammed with communications equipment.
He gathered some spare cables off his desk chair and gestured with an open hand to the seat and the phone. Then he made for the door, saying, “I’ll jes’ make sure it’s all switched on fer you.”
Business cards have their uses. Müller had stolen my phone, but Viktor Schröder’s card was still in my billfold. I checked my watch. It would be late in Berlin but I was counting on him still being at the Bundeskriminalamt.
“Schröder.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. “Herr Schröder, this is Jim Slater. I’d like to pay you another visit. It’s about that European network we were discussing.”
“Yes, Colonel, you would like some more information?”
“No, I have information for you, a lot of information. I know it’s late for you but could we set up a holoconference?”
A brief pause. “Yes, that is possible.”
“Good. Could you let me have the conference settings?”
I found a scrap of paper on the crowded bench and wrote them down. We agreed to make the connection in ten minutes.
McKenzie was holding the door of the holoconference suite open for me. “All ready for you, Colonel. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
“Thanks.”
I went inside and closed the door behind me. There was a warm, musty smell in the windowless room, so perhaps it wasn’t used that frequently. I sat down in the single chair and let my eyes adjust to the dim red lighting.
Originally I’d intended to take the data storage unit to Washington for decrypting. I could give it to Peter Richardson; he worked at the NSA and I knew him well. But there was a downside to that plan. For one thing it would put me in Washington, where there were probably a bunch of people baying for my blood because I’d asked USAF combat aircraft to make an unauthorised incursion into Mexican airspace. More importantly, though, Peter was a busy guy, and it could take a day or two to decrypt this lot. Time was of the essence now. Lipzan no doubt made a good profit on their pharmaceuticals, but the flow of illegal money from Mexico was even more important. Holle and Müller would be in touch on an almost daily basis. If Holle once suspected that his colleague’s operation had been compromised the element of surprise would be lost, and with it any hope of cracking the network. So I wouldn’t be going to Washington. I’d be flying to Berlin.
The red digits on a wall clock showed me that ten minutes had passed. Time to get this going. I entered the settings and Schröder’s holoimage stuttered in blue and white, then consolidated in colour.
After a brief exchange of greetings I said, “Herr Schröder—”
“Please, you should call me Viktor.”
“Yes, okay, and I’m Jim. Look, Viktor, you were right about the Guardians of the Reich but there’s a lot more to it than that. Lipzan doesn’t just support it. Lipzan is the Guardians of the Reich.”
His eyes widened as I explained the set-up. I told him about the partnership of Holle and Müller, the nature of the small empire Müller had built for himself in Mexico, the trafficking of drugs and girls, the money-laundering, the manipulated trial data that resulted in a profitable product line for Lipzan and provided a legitimate façade for the whole enterprise.
“The bottom line, Viktor, is this: you have to move on Lipzan right now. If we wait any longer Holle will know something’s happened. He’s smart, very smart. By the time you get to him there’ll be nothing left for you to find.”
Schröder swallowed. “Jim… I cannot just descend on that company. I need warrants for entry and for arrests to be made, and I cannot get them without solid evidence.”
“I’m bringing you the evidence. Do you have a decryption section at the BKA?”
He blinked. “Yes, we do.”
“I thought you would. I have all the data from Müller’s computer. It will have the emails, the money transfers, everything.”
His voice was breathless with excitement. “That is wonderful. When you get here we will start to work on it immediately.”
I sighed and shook my head. “No good. I’m in Texas. Even if I get the supersonic it won’t be a direct flight. I’ll have to change planes somewhere and I probably won’t be with you before tomorrow afternoon. It could be too late by that time…” I held up a finger. “Wait a moment. Don’t go away.”
I opened the door and hurried back to McKenzie’s office.
“Y’all done?” he asked mildly.
“No, I’m still on the line. I need to transmit some important data to this party. What’s the best way to do it securely?”
“You c’n do that in the suite. Use the data channel instead of the imaging channel. That’s the best way – it’s secure and it’s real fast.”
I unfastened the shirt pocket and handed him the data storage unit. “It’s on this.”
He turned it over in his large hands and sucked in a breath. “While since I seen one of these. No way you can plug that into the console. It only takes memory tiles.”
“Damn.”
“Want me to port it over to a tile for you? Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Will it take long?”
“Nah, not long, if I can find the right stuff. I’ll bring it down when it’s ready.”
“Thanks.”
I left him still rummaging in drawers, no doubt looking for the right cables, a d.c. power supply, and memory tiles.
I got back to Schröder. “I can send you that data now, over this line. Can you record it?”
“Excellent. Yes, I can record it here.”
“Okay, we’re just putting it on a memory tile. It’ll be here shortly.”
“Very good. Jim, I do not understand how you obtained the data from Mr Müller’s computer.”
I gave him a brief account of my escape, the trip to the rebel camp, and the destruction of the transmitter.
“I wanted to bri
ng Müller with me to face justice but in the end it was impossible. He died in the fire.” There was a knock at the door and a triumphant McKenzie was standing there, holding up a memory tile. I gave him a smile and a nod. “Okay, Viktor, I have the data ready to send. We’ll have to close down the imaging channel now and I’ll send the data right away. I’m still coming out there, though – I’ll send you my arrival time once I’m en route.”
“Okay, Jim. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye for now.”
I turned to McKenzie. “Go ahead. We’re still connected.”
He came forward, closed the imaging channel down, plugged in the memory tile, and went through a sequence of button presses. Then he stepped back.
“It’s going.”
We waited in silence, watching the steady creep of a progress bar on the panel. It completed its traverse and a message appeared, confirming that it had been received. I pulled the memory tile from the slot in the panel and put it in my billfold.
I clapped McKenzie on the shoulder. “Great job, Sergeant. Thanks.”
He handed me the data storage unit and I put it back in my shirt pocket.
Once everything was shut down McKenzie closed the door of the holoconference suite behind us. “Want me to take you back to the Commander’s office?”
“No thanks. I can find my way.”
Nicholson looked up as I came in. “Okay?"
"Yeah. Sergeant McKenzie was a real help."
"So where y’all off to now?”
“I have to fly to Europe.”
“I’ll get a corporal t'drive you to Dallas/Fort Worth.”
“Are you sure?”
“No problem at all.” As he picked up the phone he pointed at my belt. “Mebbe you should leave that piece with me, though. They don’t take too kindly to those things at th’ airport.”
“My God, I’d forgotten it was there. Thanks.” I handed over the semi-automatic. “It’s Russian. Someone might ask questions about it.”
“Okay, I’ll put it in the safe.”
I took the data storage unit from my shirt pocket. “Would you mind putting this in with it?”
He took it from me and raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”
“The girls I liberated were kidnapped and held as sex slaves. The guy behind it all had links with organized crime as well as the rebel militia. What you have there is the data from his computer. I’ve transmitted it to a security service, but the original may be needed in a court of law. It’d be more secure if I left it with you for the moment.”
“Sure, we c’n do that.”
There was a knock at the door. The driver was here. I shook hands with the Commander and left.
As I settled into the back seat I felt a flutter of anticipation. I was looking forward very much to my second – and no doubt final – meeting with Mr Holle of Lipzan Pharmaceutica.
46
At Dallas/Fort Worth International I bought a ticket for the next flight to Berlin Tegel via London Heathrow. I had some time before departure so I purchased a disposable cell phone, which I’d use from now on; the rebel soldier’s phone would have to be handed over at some stage and I didn’t want any of my private calls to be on it. Next I found a men’s outfitters. I purchased a complete change of clothes and put them on in the changing room. The casual jacket, T-shirt, and lightweight trousers felt comfortable, and it wouldn’t hurt to look like a civilian for a while. I rolled the old stuff into a tight bundle and dumped it in the first trash can I came across.
With that done I went through security and into the departures lounge. It was fairly busy but most of the people were near the coffee counter or by the big windows looking out across the runways. At the back I found a quiet corner, took the new phone out, and switched it on. It was just a cheap burner but it would do the job. I took a good look around, making sure there was no one near enough to overhear me.
First I phoned my own office in North Carolina and spoke to Tommy Geiger.
“Tommy, I should have been in touch earlier. You did great and so did the Air Force boys in West Texas.”
Was that a sigh of relief? “You’re okay, then, Jim?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“So when are you coming in? I can’t wait to hand this job back to you.”
I smiled. “Not too long now, I hope, Tommy. Right now I need a couple of numbers. Could you look them up for me?”
“Go ahead.”
“One’s the Federal Drugs Administration in Washington. The other’s the CO at SAS ‘A’ Division in Hereford, England. His name’s Colonel Owen Gracey.”
“Sure. Just take a moment.”
I’d kept the scrap of paper I’d picked up in McKenzie’s office. When Tommy came back to me I added the two numbers to it.
A bell-like signal came over the public address system, followed by the announcement of my flight to London. It was only the first call and I ignored it. Instead I phoned the FDA. I no longer had the direct line I wanted, of course, so I had to settle for the switchboard. A woman answered, and I asked for Dr Norman Harries. She tried to stonewall me, as I knew she would. I cursed Müller for taking my phone. They say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but in his case I was prepared to make an exception.
I became more assertive and pulled rank all over the place, and finally she put me through.
He answered in his usual stiff fashion. “Hello, Colonel. Did you have any luck?”
Luck was not how I’d describe it, but I passed over that.
“Your suspicions were right, Dr Harries. The data on Prescaline was manipulated to exclude the side effects. And they were aiming to do the same with Xylozib.”
“My God, how did you find that out?”
“It’s a long story. The bottom line is, I’m expecting to have the original trials data in my hands shortly. You should be able to compare it with the highly modified version they sent to your people.”
He emitted a low whistle, which was unexpected coming from someone as rigidly correct as Harries. “Revelations like that would put a bomb under the company! The US Army will sue for fraudulent misrepresentation of the product. There’ll be class action law suits on behalf of every family with someone who responded adversely to the drug. The company won’t be able to withstand the onslaught: they’ll go under.”
I was aiming to put an even bigger bomb under the company myself, but I said nothing.
“When can you get the data to me?”
I thought for a moment. “Look, I can’t say precisely when, but I have to return to Washington soon and I can bring you a copy then. It’ll probably be in German.”
“German? Well, all right. I’m not fluent but I think I have a sufficient grasp. It’s the data I’m interested in.”
“Dr Harries, I don’t want the Army to use Prescaline any more.”
“I can put out a notice. It’s not uncommon for side-effects to emerge when a drug’s been in circulation for a while. The fraudulent aspect can be pursued later.”
“What about the Brits? They’ve been using it, too.”
“I’ll make sure they get the notice as well.”
“Thanks.”
“No, it’s for me to thank you. As soon as you can with that data, Colonel.”
“You bet.”
My next call was to Owen Gracey. I was feeling bad about the way I’d treated him. He gave me a safe billet, and I went walkabout in a big way without telling him. I punched the number in.
“Owen? This is Jim Slater.”
There was a miniscule pause. “Jim? Where are you?”
“Er, right now I’m at Dallas/Fort Worth Airport.”
“Good God, what are you doing there? Never mind. Are you all right?”
Now that was generous. He had every reason to chew me out.
“I’m fine now, Owen, but I’ve been in tight spot. I’m really sorry, but there was no way I could get in touch with you.”
“All right. Look, General Harken’s been asking for you. I
had to tell him I had no idea where you were. Trifle awkward, of course, but he didn’t seem all that surprised. Anyway he wants to see you urgently. So does the Deputy Secretary of Defense.”
The Deputy Secretary of State, too, no doubt. The shit must have hit the fan already. It’ll be a bloody miracle if I’m still in a job after this.
He went on, talking rapidly. “So you’re in Texas. Are you on your way to Washington now?”
“Er, not just yet. But I’ll be there in a couple of days.”
“Good. If they call again I’ll tell them. And are you coming back here after that?”
“I will, one way or another.” I wasn’t speaking loudly but I lowered my voice still further. “Owen, I found out what sent Scot Hayward round the twist.”
I heard the intake of breath. “You did?”
“Yes. I can’t say too much now, but the blame lies elsewhere. Scot reacted badly to a drug that was supposed to protect him.”
Seconds passed. Then he said, “Jim, I want to know more. So will Alan.”
“I’ll give you both the full story when I come.”
“Good. Make it soon, won’t you? Take care, now.”
“You too.”
I clicked off and looked around again as I replaced the phone in my pocket.
International Airways announces the departure of…
Time to go to the departure gate.
*
The BMW saloon swept down the autobahn, heading for Taufkirchen. Next to me in the back seat Viktor Schröder gazed impassively ahead. Two hours ago he was waiting in the Arrivals Hall when I landed at Berlin Tegel. A quick handshake and he was whisking me off to another departure gate.
“Come, Jim, we are not staying in Berlin. We will fly immediately to München. Everything there is arranged.”
And it certainly was. Ours was just one vehicle in a convoy that consisted of several big four-wheel-drives and three police vans, all travelling at speed, blue lights flashing.
The Reich Legacy Page 25
