“Have any more communiqués come from Miriam?” Levi asked.
“Levi, No. I haven’t heard from her, and I don’t want to. We are not partners any more and we certainly can never work together again, remember that!”
Levi waved David out of his office and under his breath said, “I can’t figure you two out. What happened in Munich between you?”
David glared at Levi, and icily left the office without saying a word.
They had been his pride and joy, the best team he ever had, and he hated to see them split up like this. Maybe time will heal and change things.
After Levi’s job proposal, Miriam was up and back into her old strenuous exercise routine. She was distressed that her once taunt body was getting soft. Well, she knew how to work out that softness, and all the motivation she needed was a new job and getting back to work. After an hour of hard calisthenics, she took a long hot shower and turned her attention to the large packet that had arrived by currier from Levi. Inside were all the facts on where she was going, what she would be doing as Main Communications Director, the MCD they called it, at the Rome headquarters. She would be privy to all communiqués coming and going at that Mossad unit. She would have to track all information relayed via satellite, routing each to its correct target. The Rome branch was second only to Tel Aviv, to which she also would have complete access. She would have a new state-of-the-art computer at her disposal and a crew of seven working under her. They would be tracking terrorists’ movements around the world.
It was a desk job she knew; however she figured she could turn it into fieldwork again once Levi saw how motivated she was. She suddenly realized that she was thinking of her job first again. That was the best part of it. She’d never have time to think of David again. Now she might finally heal. It felt good to think about something else! The sun was just going down and she decided to put on her best clothes, took the elevator down to the hotel lobby and asked the desk clerk for a nice place to get some dinner- - -something expensive, for a change, she decided, after all “The Office” could afford it. Only eight more days and she would be off to Rome.
As she left the hotel, she noticed, unlike for many days, the world was in color. The soft, lavender, net of evening was just beginning to invade the day. The restaurant the desk clerk had recommended was just two blocks away and as she walked along the streetlights popped on and introduced the beginning evening. She walked along, her step lighter, feeling better than she had in many weeks.
After a luscious dinner of jager schnitzel with spatzle and mushroom cream sauce and almost a whole bottle of Riesling from the Mosel-Saar-River valley, Miriam lingered at the table thinking of something else she could do for the first time in over in any weeks. Why not go back to the Cobra Club, just to relax she justified, with people her own age. Maybe even dance, and forget about everyone and everything in the past.
As she entered, the Cobra Club, as usual, was rocking with jagged music and psychedelic, pulsing lights. Those lights seemed to turn the large room filled with the fog thick, cigarette smoke, into a stage set from outer space.
Maneuvering carefully through the noisy throng, the laughing, shouting, drinking men and women, she wondered if she should sit at the bar or try to get a table. She quickly ruled out the bar because there weren’t any empty stools and she certainly wasn’t interested in being a pickup. Looking around she didn’t see any vacant tables so she circled the small tables on the periphery of the packed dance floor until she came upon a couple arguing heatedly. Miriam paused nearby to see if they were mad enough at each other that they would pack up and leave. When they did, he slipped into one of the chairs seconds after the girl rose, even before the girl reached over to pick up her purse lying on the table. The girl glared angrily at Miriam, said something under her breath and pointed at her with an arm covered with tattoos. The black jacketed, bald man with her grabbed her arm and jerked her toward the nearest exit. Miriam shook her head and sat with her back against the wall, which seemed to offer a sense of stability against the deafening vibrations of the place. Now, if only she could get a drink.
Before she could find a waitress, a pimply, skinny, obviously drunk young man, with long hair and glazed eyes, weaved his way to her table, leaned on it, and in a slurred voice, asked her to dance. She turned away from his foul breath and said no rather loudly, and the drunk, without even a frown, staggered on to the next table. Another man standing nearby also unsuccessfully tried his chances, after Miriam turned down pimple-face. Then a tall, athletic, black man stepped up and also was declined. If this keeps up I either need to leave right now or I need a drink fast, thought Miriam. I feel really strange being here alone, this really isn’t my style, yet, here I am. She strained her head looking about, trying to catch the eye of one of the overworked waitresses carrying a fistful of empty beer steins. The waitresses nodded and just kept pushing through the crowd. Why have a table if you can’t get a drink, she wondered, getting exasperated. She was ready to leave.
Suddenly a large salt-rimmed Margarita glass was placed on her table by a man who proceeded to sit at her table.
“I knew you needed one. I just hope you drink Margaritas. My name is Hank Westheim, and I know you didn’t invite me, but I saw you sitting there getting hit on by half the jerks in this place and you didn’t even have a drink to chase away the advances or even a hope for one in this madhouse. Do you mind?”
Thanks for the rescue. I’m Miriam.” She sipped at the short straws protruding from the slushy drink.
“Hey, this is quite good! I figured the drinks would be pretty well watered down in a place like this.”
“No. That’s one of the things they’re famous for - - - as well as the soft music, he said with a throaty laugh. Would you like to dance?”
“No thanks. I just want to enjoy the quiet, elegant atmosphere,” she chuckled.
“That’s all right. I like to people watch too. How about you? Are you a people watcher also?”
“Well there certainly are all types to watch in this place, aren’t there?”
They stared out at the crowded dance floor watching the gyrations of crazily-clad dancers moving in frenetic fury to the heavy metal beat and penetrating, throbbing lights. Over the din, they commented on various peoples’ dress weird hairstyles and dancing techniques, almost competing to see who could find the most outlandish. Miriam and Hank began sneaking looks at each other across the table, laughing or nodding and pointing- - -acknowledging each other’s presence despite the difficulty of communicating over the noise.
Hank had to yell a new invitation to dance over the screaming music. She reluctantly nodded in the affirmative, and took his hand as he led her to a small gap in the dancing melee. Seconds later, they were just another gyrating pair moving to the incessant beat. Miriam suddenly had a smile on her face, just moving to the music, thinking of nothing else.
Directly into his ear, she almost shouted, “What do you call this music, Hank; it’s pretty hard to dance to.”
“It’s called Krautrock. This band is Tangerine Dream, and if I’m not mistaken this is from their Zeist album. Yes, it is hard to dance to. I think most people just get on the dance floor and try not to make too much of a fool of themselves.”
“Hank, that’s just what I’m doing. Let’s go back to the table, please.”
Back at the table, after another round of drinks, Hank reached over and put his hand on hers and asked if she’d like to go somewhere to get something to eat, in a quieter place, he added. Hesitantly, more to free herself from the smoke and blasting music, she accepted, and rose to leave, their table getting gobbled up quickly, almost before they left. Taking her arm, Hank guided her through the frenetic throng on the dance floor and out the front door.
Outside, with the pounding beat and the synthesizers still echoing in her ears, Miriam tried to shake the throbbing beat and declined his offer to take her to a restaurant he knew would be open at this hour in his car, and said she would follow
him in hers. She had no idea where they were going and after three drinks she did not care, but thought she would follow to have a vehicle of escape should she need it. She knew those drinks had loosened her up a bit, but not enough to turn off her powers of caution. She wasn’t a fool for going with him - - - or was she, she wondered.
Hank walked her to her car, waited while she unlocked the door and said he would be back in a few minutes so she could follow him to the restaurant.
After a few minutes, he pulled up and honked in a late-model silver Mercedes. She pulled out behind him and followed the Mercedes through the streets of Munich for only a few minutes. Hank pulled into the parking lot of a touristy, chalet looking restaurant painted in garish colors. He walked over to her car and she rolled down her window and asked, “Are you sure this is where you want to eat?”
“Don’t worry about how it looks. They serve some of the best food in all of Munich! I think the paint job is really to scare off tourists.”
“OK, if you say so, Hank.”
While placing their orders, they both smiled silly grins. They could see each other in a clearer light. Miriam noted Hank was quite handsome and had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. His neatly-kept mustache and wavy brown locks gave him the looks of a movie star. She began to feel a little too attracted to him, and shivered. He seemed never to take his eyes off her. That felt good for a change. Before their food arrived, Miriam excused herself, and Hank was tantalized by the sway of her hips as she walked to the ladies room. His sensuous goal was to get between them before the sun came up. Toward that end he kept up the charming banter all through their meal when she returned.
Lingering casually over coffee they talking familiarly as if they had known each other much longer than a few hours. After they left the restaurant, Hank noted that it was almost four in the morning. He asked her if she’d like to get a room at the motel next door. He knew he was taking a chance, but something about their natural chemistry gave him the courage.
Miriam hesitated, wanting to, but it was so crazy after such a short time. He squeezed her arm gently encouraging her. It was time they got some rest, he suggested. They could get two rooms or twin beds if she preferred. After he said that, she accepted. Nevertheless, of course, they did not get two rooms or twin beds.
As they entered the garish motel room Hank laughed, “The same mad decorator must have designed both the restaurant and this motel.” But there was no mistaking that the king-sized bed certainly dominated the small room. Hank told her to make herself comfortable, to go on to bed if she wished. He was going to shower first so he proceeded toward the bathroom, turning on the light, commenting on how nice and large it was. She walked over and peered in. He was right. It was all beige and blue tile with a huge sunken tub beside a glassed-in shower. Plush towels were piled everywhere and the floor was covered with warm beige carpeting.
Hank touched her arm and said, “You’re welcome to join me in the shower, Miriam. I’ll just get in and let you decide…whatever you wish.”
As Miriam walked away, she heard the water go on, then the shower door was shut. She kept standing there thinking, what am I doing? Hell, she knew she couldn’t just get undressed and get in that bed and go to sleep. She quickly got undressed and joined him in the shower.
It was near noon the next day when they had breakfast in the same restaurant. By now they were feeling completely comfortable with each other. He had been gentle in his love-making, had never rushed her into anything. He called it exploring each other in more profound ways. There was just something about him she really liked. She decided, if he asked, she would see him again, at least until she left for Italy. What did she have to lose? She felt good being with someone again. However, falling in love was definitely out of the question, she rationalized, no more of that stuff. Once was enough.
After he made a date with Miriam for dinner later that night, Hans returned to his hotel room. He was very relieved his mustache and hairpiece had passed the test while making love to Miriam. He had never had to put his disguise to that kind of test before, and it had accounted for much of his gentleness with her. He had no need to bother with a disguise when he had been with Ingrid and it had been so much easier. Before that he had only been with prostitutes. Back in Argentina or with women like Emily who he cared nothing about, he only used women to get what he needed. This was something new that he had neither experienced nor even considered- - -he actually had feelings for her. She was quite sweet and tender, not what he expected at all. From the news articles, he knew she could pretty well match David if the occasion called for doing battle. After last night he hoped that would never occur. It was a thrill for him - - - shooting that Jew and then taking his girl. Maybe she did live in Munich like she had claimed and had only been David’s date for the evening. Either way, he liked Miriam. It was that simple. He could not explain it even to himself, but he knew there was something there.
He remembered that he had missed his ten to noon phone time with whoever was that called themselves “The Organization” and had been giving him his assignments of people to kill. That was a very strange arrangement. How did they know he had a passion for killing Jews? He didn’t like taking orders from anyone. He thought about declining their directions, but the money for each hit had been good - - - good and it certainly helped him grow his bank account.
Had he missed today’s call? But by four, he had heard nothing and now it was after six, so he figured he’d lucked out and wasn’t going to be called at all today. Rather than start worrying about that, he decided to concentrate on a plan to win Miriam’s affection. He would do whatever it took to gain her trust. Only then could he find out what he wanted to know - - - no matter how things went between them. He needed to figure out what Mossad was up to in Munich. Were they after the emerald, him, or just trying to infiltrate the organization? If he could answer that question maybe he could take advantage and sabotage those fucking Jews who shot his father. He had the time and was gaining the financial resources to wait it out.
For the next five days, this strange pair went out every evening but Hank really learned nothing about Mossad from Miriam. He tried every trick he knew to get her to admit that she was a Mossad agent, but she was very tight lipped. All she would say was that she worked for a new company that developed computers, and she was in Germany to locate and heir people for that company. No, she wouldn’t tell him the name of the company because it was still under development and they were in a race get their product into the market before several others beat them.
They also talked about relationships, past and present. She told him she planned to never fall in love or marry, ever. She was still raw from being burned the last time. She didn’t mind having a bit of fun, but please don’t ask for anything more. He agreed and said he felt the same even though he had begun having feelings for her. She informed him that in a few days she would be leaving to move to Australia to be with her family. They would never see each other again, so cool his emotions.
Two days before Miriam was to leave for Rome, they stood outside a hotel where they had just finished a lavish lunch buffet. She said her final goodbye, telling Hank she would probably never be back. She told him not to be too sad. He had been so much fun. It was for the best that they part now. He said he would miss her. If she had stayed, he would’ve wanted to marry her.
“Now, Now,” she said, “We agreed not to get emotionally tied up with each other.”
Hank slowly shook he head in affirmation. After a long hug, hey kissed goodbye, never believing they’d see each other again.
Hans realized later, after he began missing Miriam, that he had spoken the truth. Maybe he should just jet off to Australia and marry her. The more he thought of her, the more intense his feelings became. She was very much on his mind after he got home and at four, his phone began ringing. Maybe it is she, he thought, but it was not. After he hung up, he drove once by Henzel’s house to check it out then drove back home to put on his s
hooter’s outfit.
CHAPTER 23
Munich
Two days later, the newspaper reported the assassination. It came from a long-range rifle shot, as Henzel had walked from the synagogue to his car. As Chief Beinschmidt read the report he found on his desk, he felt he could finally relax. Now both Jews within his department were gone, and he could easily hire Neuschondorf from the GRS to replace Henzel. At the morning patrol assembly, he gave his beat officers hell, followed by a pep talk exhorting them to get out there and find that maniac who was killing his best men. After he dismissed the briefing, he returned to his office, closed the door, and called Servette. After the usual pleasantries, their discussion turned to matters of the emerald.
“Did you figure out what the emerald had to do with “The Dagger”, Chief?”
“No. I was going to ask you.”
Servette continued, “We think he was after the emerald when he killed the man in your University hospital. That murdered man, a Mr. Tam Stratton, had just made the winning bid for the emerald at a Christies auction in Geneva a couple of days before. Actually, it seems, someone tried to kill him by running his car off a cliff shortly after the auction. I do not know if it was the same person, striking twice of if it is a group of some kind that was after him. Then, and this is quite strange, someone made arrangements to have him transferred from Geneva to your University hospital.”
“So you think this killer is after the stone as well. I wonder why? Maybe we, here in Munich, can track them both down. What else, Piet?”
“Nothing more, I guess?
“Well let me know if you hear anything. Keep in touch, Chief.”
After their conversation, Bruno quickly dialed a number and said to the silence, “The emerald is the clue. Locate it. Then we can keep a better eye on our man.”
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