Scorpion Trail

by Archer, Jeffrey

  He wiggled his fingers to indicate inverted commas.

  'My friends. The situation is most urgent. This week there is a target here in Germany that Mr Pravic might find too tempting to resist. On Wednesday - the day after tomorrow - in Munich, there is a Muslim political rally.

  More than one thousand Bosnians,Turks, Iranians, and Lebanese meet in a sports hall to listen to speeches from Islamic Fundamentalists. Already the police in Munich think neo-Nazis will try to break up the meeting. But if Pravic . . .'

  'You're right,' Sanders agreed. 'The risk is appalling.'

  'Suppose he can spray the bacteria in there? Five hundred dead? A thousand?

  Then the questions from the Bosnian Muslims in this country - you knew about this man, why didn't you stop him? Why you let him murder Muslims?

  You Germans are still Nazis, still with the Croats, like in Third Reich...' It would be Bzirgerkrieg. A Bosnian civil war in Germany.'

  Marcel Vaillon nodded, reminded of France's own problems with Algeria.

  'You are right Rudi, but so are we,' he insisted. 'Of course your police must have this picture and know the danger. But we must not be exposed.

  Maybe there is a way.'

  He turned to the SIS man.

  'Martin, in our last meeting you said the UN Tribunal asked for British help to find Pravic. So, now you have some success, don't you?' He tapped the photo. 'Send them this. Say it was taken by a British UN soldier. Tell the UN to give it to the German police immediately. They won't know where it comes from.'

  Like laundering money. Sanders picked up the print and studied it again.

  Easy enough to mask out Dunkel and the background.

  'Then Rudi, you must warn the police Pravic could have been in Zagreb when the hotel worker was infected. Say the man is a mass murderer and may have an anthrax weapon. If they ask how you know, you tell them you don't, but it is a guess.'

  'That's fine, but what about Dunkel?' Kapinsky intervened. 'He's the crucial figure that connects Pravic with Leipzig and with us. If the police identify Dunkel and he talks, then he could spill the whole bag of maggots.'

  The other three nodded.

  'Already I tell him he must eliminate everything that links him to Pravic and Zagreb,' Katzfuss replied, knowing that it wouldn't be enough.

  'What I'm saying Rudi,' Kapinsky stressed, 'is that Dunkel is the key to keeping us out of trouble. And he's your problem, Rudi. You have to get to him before the cops do. And you have to take him out.'

  Frankfurt 7.00 p.m.

  A uniformed woman officer led the way into a small, grey-painted, airless office at the headquarters of the Kriminalpolizei. Irwin and Nancy Roche were already there, looking anxious and drawn. So was Nataga. One wall was made of glass. Beyond it Alex saw another room, furnitureless and empty.

  'In a minute you will see six women through the glass. They cannot see you.

  Each woman will carry a card with a number,' Kommissar Linz explained. 'Do not talk to each other about what you see. If you think one of them is the person who was driving the Polo yesterday, write down her number and give it to me.' He handed each of them a notepad and pen. 'Are you all ready?'

  They concurred.

  'Anfangen bitte,' he said into a microphone projecting from the wall. He dimmed the lights.

  'Not too close to the glass,' he cautioned.

  A few seconds later the women filed in. All had short, dark hair, some black, some brown. Three were in short miniskirts, three in trousers.

  'Tough looking bunch,' Alex commented.

  'Please! No talking,' Linz repeated.

  Alex looked at each face in turn, hoping some detail might jog his memory - the cut of the hair or the line of the jaw. The trouble was they were standing face on. When he'd seen the woman's profile yesterday, he'd been looking down at the Polo from the high-up passenger seat in the Land Cruiser.

  'Can you get them to sit on the floor and face to the left?' he whispered.

  Linz nodded. He pushed the button on the microphone again.

  'Bitte, setzen Sie sich auf dein Boden und nach links gucken!

  Reluctantly the women complied, the ones in the miniskirts objecting strongly.

  'Now let's see,' Alex breathed. There were only two possibles, numbers four and six. Couldn't be sure about either of them. Both had hair that was almost black, both were heavy in the chest and fat in the thigh. He wrote both numbers on the paper.

  'She could be one of these two,' he whispered handing Linz the note.

  'But you are not sure?' he checked.

  'Impossible. I didn't see her full face in the car.'

  Linz grimaced. Without a positive identification they were sunk. The Roches shook their heads, as did Lorna.

  'Danke schdrl!' Linz shouted into the box.

  He accompanied them back to the main entrance.

  'Sorry that wasn't much help,' Alex said. 'The woman's still denying everything, I suppose?'

  'Such women are in the habit of telling lies to the police. It is easy for her. But she is frightened, that's for sure. Of Pravic probably. What woman would not be? But without evidence we cannot hold her for long. We will ask her some more questions this evening, then tomorrow she must go free.'

  'Which one was she, by the way?'

  Linz turned to look at him. He knew he shouldn't answer, but an idea had just come into his head.

  'Number four.'

  Alex faltered.

  'Damn! If only I'd been sure...'

  'There may be something more you can do . . .' Linz said, stopping just short of the swing doors. He took Alex and Lorna to one side, while the Roches waited. 'I would like to talk with you on the telephone tonight, after I have spoken with Fraulein Pocklewicz. You'll be at the Hotel Sommer? At about eleven o'clock?'

  'Certainly.'

  They shook hands, then Linz disappeared back into the building.

  On the steps outside, the Roches turned to Lorna.

  'We have to have a talk,' Irwin told her. 'You and I, we've got some hard thinking to do. We have to decide what's best for the kid, I mean.'

  Lorna could see some embarrassment in Roche's eyes, signs of a weakening resolve.

  'Beginning to change your minds about Vildana?' she asked bluntly.

  'No ... but we want to know a little better what we're letting ourselves in for,' he explained. 'I mean we have two kids of our own, and we're surely not going to do anything that'll screw up their lives.'

  'No. No, of course you can't. I understand. But why not wait and see how things pan out in the next few days, huh? Vildana will have to stay in hospital for a while yet.'

  'Sure, sure,' Roche concurred. just wanted you to understand where we're coming from.'

  Nancy Roche looked pale and awkward.

  'Don't get us wrong,' she stressed. 'As I told you in the hospital, she's my girl so long as she wants it and ... and as long as my family do too.'

  She pulled her mouth into a thin smile, but it did nothing to dilute the anguish in her eyes. 'Anyway, I'm going back there now. So's Nataga. We'll stay the night again if she needs us to.'

  Lorna gave her a huge hug.

  'Don't worry. I understand,' she whispered.

  11.05 p.m. Hotel Sommer

  For a long time after making love, Alex and Lorna lay side by side, their bodies just touching. They were conscious of each other's breathing but said nothing, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. In the background the soft strains of a Mozart piano concerto tinkled from the radio.

  Lorna turned on her side, tucking her cheek into the dip of his shoulder and resting her hand on his stomach. It felt so strange lying there with him. Strange, because it was hard not to believe that she had vaulted back in time, wiping out the years of pain and anger.

  'You know something, mister?' she said, throatily.

  'What's that?' he breathed.

  'You're kind of good at this. In fact if there was an Oscar for screwing, you'd get my nomination.'
<
br />   'Well thank you! You're not bad either...'

  She gave a little snort of laughter.

  'On second thoughts, the nomination depends on you shaving that beard off 'There's always a catch...'

  'Hey, you remember the first time we did it?' she asked meanly. 'On my Morri's carpet.'

  'Eighteen and over-excited,' he replied. All over within seconds, as he recalled.

  'You were so embarrassed,' she giggled. 'And you remember what we used to talk about in those days?'

  'Not really. I was only after your body.'

  'Oh sure. You remember all that teenage stuff. Why are we here? The world stinks but you can't change it, so let's drop out, get stoned and watch it all go by? We used to sit out on Hampstead Heath in the moonlight and talk about this life and the afterlife, about God and ghosts. And fate.'

  'Fate I remember,' he conceded. 'Your whole life written down beforehand in some doomy book. You still believe that?'

  She was silent for a moment.

  'Maybe. Maybe not. What d'you think's written in Vildana's book?'

  'A lot more misery...'

  'Don't say that. You think the Roches will adopt her?'

  He thought about it. The odds were about evens, he reckoned.

  'If the police catch Pravic quickly, then it might work out. If he stays on the loose and the Roches have to live with the knowledge that he's out there, then I'm not sure they could handle that.'

  The telephone rang, startling them.

  'God, what now?' Lorna gulped, picking up the receiver. 'Hullo?'

  'Mrs Sorensen?'

  She recognized the voice of Kommissar Linz.

  'Yes, hi there. You want to speak to Alex?' She suspected the policeman was more comfortable talking to a man. She passed the phone over.

  'Good evening, Kommissar,' Alex answered. 'Has the Berlin woman told you anything?'

  'Nothing. Nothing. Tomorrow morning at nine I must release her, but I have an idea. Will you help me?'

  'Of course, if I can.'

  'Then would you and Frau Sorensen be here tomorrow morning? I want you to speak to Frdulein Pocklewicz after she leaves. She may talk to you if you say you're not the police. Tell her you recognize her from the car, but won't tell the police if she agrees to help you. Maybe take her to the hospital to see Vildana - she is a woman. Use tricks if you think it will persuade her to reveal to you where Pravic is now.'

  'A long shot, isn't it?'

  'Ya, but it is the only shot we have. Except one. A new photograph. I will show you in the morning. You can be here at eight-thirty?'

  'No problem.'

  'Oh, and by the way, Herr Chadwick in London sends a big hello.'

  'Oh yes. Yes, thanks.'

  He leaned across Lorna's warm body to replace the phone on its rest.

  'What was that all about?' she asked, running her fingers down the hard muscles of his back.

  'He's fixed us a date,' he replied. 'With a prostitute.'

  3.35 a.m. the same night Berlin

  Karina closed the door to her room in the brothel and locked it. It had been raining all evening. Bad for trade. Only three punters since seven o'clock. Not even enough to pay the rent.

  She'd changed from her working clothes into trainers, black ski-pants and a large purple sweater. Out in the street, she held a plastic bag above her head as protection against the downpour and began to run. It wasn't far to the cosy little flat with the large bed that she shared with another girl in the same profession.

  Dieter Konrad hardly recognized her through the rain-smeared window of the stolen Audi. But the doll-like hair and the look of her backside as she ran convinced him. He drew alongside, then wound down the passenger window.

  'Frdulein Kaiinal' he shouted. She stopped and bent down to peer inside.

  'Oh, it's you. What do you want?'

  'I want to do business,' he replied, trying to smile.

  'What, another sodding passport? Piss off She walked on, feeling the cold rain soak through her sweater.

  Konrad eased the car forward, keeping pace.

  'Look, I said no!' she shouted, halting for a second time.

  'Not a passport. Business. You know.'

  'What? Sex?' she began to laugh. 'You?'

  'Ya! And this time I won't argue about the price!'

  'Switch the light on.' She stuck her head through the window to get a better look at him. 'What are you up to?'

  'You know.'

  She saw his cheek twitch and mistook it for lust. She remembered he'd been wanting it when he came to the apartment the other day.

  'Why didn't you come into the house?' she demanded, shivering as the rain drenched her back.

  'I get embarrassed,' he replied glancing down. 'Didn't want that old madame to see me. Anyway, get in out of the rain while we talk about it.'

  Karina was wary about cars. If this was someone she'd never seen before, she wouldn't get in. But it was cold, she was getting wetter by the second, he'd said he wouldn't haggle over the price and it had been a slow night.

  'Okay, but don't put it into gear.' She got in, leaving the door slightly open. 'All right. So what did you have in mind?'

  'Straight sex,' he shrugged awkwardly.

  'Not without a condom, and I'm not carrying any around with me.'

  'But I have some.' Konrad pulled from his pocket the packet he'd got from a machine in a bar round the corner.

  'Oooh, proper little boy scout!' she said, huskily. 'Where then, if you don't want to trick in the apartment?' She glanced over her shoulder. The car was a hatchback. He'd folded the rear seats down and covered the floor space with a yellow tartan blanket. 'Thought of everything, haven't you?'

  Now, she decided, let's see whether he's serious about not haggling.

  'It'll cost you two hundred,' she announced coldly, opening the door wider as if to get out.

  Konrad winced.

  'I know I said I won't argue,' he whined, 'but that's taking advantage.

  And if you're fair with me, I might come back and see you again. It could be good business for you.'

  'Are you married?' she asked out of the blue.

  'Ya.'

  'But she doesn't like doing it any more?'

  'Menopause, you know?' he answered, turning away from her. He saw two people walking towards them on the opposite side of the road. Better be quick.

  'So?' he asked.

  'One hundred then. In my hand, now.'

  'All right, but close the door. It's cold.'

  He slipped the car into gear and drove off, juggling his wallet against the steering wheel. He passed her the note.

  'The Tiergarten, right?' she insisted. There'd be other hookers around there. Safety in numbers.

  Konrad headed down FriedrichstraBe trying to control the sickness in his stomach, ticking off the preparations he'd made, wondering if he could go through with it when the moment came.

  'Have you done this sort of business before, handsome?' Karina asked, resting her hand on his crotch. He brushed her away.

  'No. Haven't needed to,' he replied brusquely. There was double meaning in what he'd said.

  He turned off Unter den Linden, round the back of the Reichstag, and headed into the broad, tree-lined avenue that crossed the unlit park of the Tiergarten.

  One kilometre away, the distant, floodlit erection commemorating Prussian wars formed a priapic background for the whores at work in the vehicles parked in pools of darkness between the street lamps.

  Konrad halted the car in a free space, a hundred metres from the nearest stationary vehicle.

  Karina unzipped his trousers and slipped her hand inside.

  'You'll have to do better than this,' she smiled, feeling the flaccidity of his organ.

  'I think it will be easier if we get in the back,' he explained, removing her hand from his underpants. He took off his jacket, then they opened the doors, turned their backs to the wind and rain, and climbed into the rear.

  'Fucking cold
out there,' Karina shivered. 'Some poor sods will be out in the bushes.'

  She looked at him. He seemed awkward. Perhaps it really was his first time with a whore.

  'What now?' she asked, hugging herself 'You're the customer. You have to say what you want.'

  'Take your clothes off, then.'

  She pulled down the side zip of her ski-pants, then removed them together with her knickers. She lifted her sweater up under her chin then lay back on the blanket exposing her breasts.

  'Take your sweater right off,' Konrad insisted.

  'Aw, come on. It's too bloody cold. Get your pants off and let's get on with it.'

  Konrad loosened the belt of the trousers and eased down the zip again.

  Then he half-slid, half-rolled until he lay on top of her.

  'Oof,' she gasped as his weight drove the air from her lungs. She reached down with her right hand. He pulled it away again.

  'Not just yet,' he said, unable to stop the shake in his voice. 'I like to take my time.'

  He stretched her left arm out to the side.

  'What's going on?' she asked, as she felt him slip a band over her wrist.

  'Don't worry,' he soothed, pressing together the Velcro straps he'd attached to the seat belt mount earlier. 'It's just my little game.'

  Suddenly she began to kick. She was a lot shorter than him and powerless tinder the bulk of his spread-eagled legs.

  'No fucking game-s! Get off me you bastard!' Her left handjerked and pulled, but the strap held it. 'Help! Help somebody!'

  With his right hand Konrad peeled a pre-cut length of adhesive carpet tape from the back of the front seat and slapped it across her mouth.

  With his left hand he fended off the nails clawing at his eyes.

  Using both hands now, he pinioned her right arm with a second Velcro strap, Karina's eyes almost bursting from their sockets. Her lips and tongue pushed and twisted to dislodge the tape muffling her screams.

  Konrad ripped off the tape, stuffed a ball of paper into her mouth, shoved a hand under her chin and slapped the tape back in place.

  Karina's head shook in a frenzy, her panicky breath sawing through flared nostrils. Then, with a fresh length of tape he pinched them closed.