Thinking the woman was using the train as a shield so she could double back, Nate came to an abrupt stop and waited for the last car to pass. Only as it went by, he saw she hadn’t moved around the car, but had jumped onto the coupling hook on the back and was now climbing onto the roof.
Nate sprang toward the back of the last car, and jumped on just as the train’s speed increased.
DEHLER PAUSED AT the midpoint of the car to catch her breath. Above her, the parallel power lines that followed the tracks crackled as they fed energy through the train’s connecting bar.
She realized now that the arrival of the police near her safe house had been meant to flush her out. She should have seen it then, but she was too keyed up. Word had come to her that afternoon that a team had arrived in Munich looking for her. All she could think about when the police showed up was, she needed to get somewhere considerably quieter. Out of town, preferably.
Though she had no information on the team that was hunting her, she’d been operating under the assumption they’d been hired by her former clients, the men who’d wanted her to kill the girl named Dima. But given the guy who was chasing her now, she must have been wrong.
As she’d passed him outside the apartment building, he’d seemed immediately familiar. That’s why she’d taken the moment for a longer look. And son of a bitch if he wasn’t the guy who’d been protecting Dima in Barcelona. Which meant he couldn’t have been working for her disappointed client.
Her training had kicked in as she ran toward the train tracks. She’d pulled out her phone and dropped it in the snow when she was momentarily out of sight of her pursuer. The good thing was, she had a never-before-used replacement in her go bag.
What she couldn’t figure out was why this guy was here. What possible reason could he have for—
Movement at the back of the train. A head poking above the roofline.
“Scheisse!” she hissed. The asshole wasn’t giving up.
Staying in a crouch to avoid contact with the wires, she scrambled toward the front of the train.
She could see they were off the bridge now, and knew it would be only another minute or so before the train began slowing for its approach to München-Giesing station. Maybe she should have continued running along the tracks instead of jumping on the train, because she was basically going in a circle now. The station was a block from her safe room. She needed to get farther away, not closer.
She swore again. She should have never taken that damn job. It didn’t matter that the pay was phenomenal. Nothing was worth this kind of trouble. Besides, it wasn’t her fault things had gone awry. There were factors about the job no one could have anticipated.
She looked over her shoulder. Dima’s former escort was a whole car behind her, his progress hampered, like hers, by the wires.
She glanced ahead, hoping to see the station, as that would signal the train was about to reduce its speed, but all she saw were trees. With only two cars left in front of her, the man would reach her before the train slowed enough for her to jump off.
She was armed with a knife, but she didn’t know what he was carrying. Even if he didn’t have a gun, the idea of a rooftop fight was not appealing. They might look good in movies, but the possibility of falling and breaking her back seemed an unnecessary risk.
What she needed was for the train to stop now.
THE FRIGID WIND froze Nate’s cheeks as he pulled himself onto the roof of the train and started after Dehler.
The electric wires half a meter above prevented both of them from moving too fast. Nate tried to take advantage of the reduced speed and retrieve his gun, but the sway of the train stopped him. The last thing he needed was to lose his grip and have the weapon fall by the wayside.
Ahead, Dehler ran out of train. She looked over the side, but they both knew at their current speed that jumping was not an option. Nate hopped onto the front car and drew his gun.
“On your stomach, your hands behind your back,” he ordered.
She glanced over her shoulder, but instead of complying, she began stomping on the roof.
“Down!” he shouted.
As he took a step toward her, the train began to brake hard. Nate lost his balance and fell on his ass. If not for the raised lip at the edge of the car, he would have rolled over the side.
He scrambled back to his feet just in time to see Dehler lower herself over the side, using the same raised edge that had saved his life.
Before he could take a step forward, the train came to a complete stop, allowing Dehler to make a controlled fall to the ground. Nate swung over the edge and dropped down, too.
The moment his feet were on the gravel, he whipped around, looking for Dehler. Though he didn’t see her, he could hear her running in the trees to the right.
DEHLER HAD TWEAKED her left knee when she hit the ground. At first, she thought it was only a little twinge. But as the joint tightened up, she realized it was more than that.
She’d seen the man’s gun, though, and knew if he caught up to her again, she was a dead woman, so she ignored the pain and ran through the trees and into a parking lot. The moment she saw the gap between two office buildings, she veered toward it, hoping she could get there before the man spotted her. No such luck. She was still a few meters shy when she heard him run into the lot behind her. She pressed on into the gap, and when the walkway forked she went right, weaving between two buildings. She followed the sidewalk as it turned left again toward the main road.
A quick check behind her revealed her pursuer wasn’t there. Hopefully, he’d gone down the other fork, buying her a little time. She allowed herself to slow as she neared the street. No cars were parked on her side, but several were on the other.
Staying low, she raced to the other side and ducked behind the row of vehicles. She headed farther down the street, using the cars to hide her.
While the other side of the road was occupied mostly by office buildings, her side was lined with open lots filled with shipping containers and old vehicles and piles of junk.
Or, in her eyes, filled with opportunity.
When she spotted the opening in the fence, she scurried through it.
NATE LOST SIGHT of Dehler as she ran into an alleyway between buildings. In the few seconds he had seen her, she seemed to have been favoring her left leg. He hadn’t noticed that earlier.
Dehler was out of sight by the time he entered the gap. As much as he didn’t want to, he slowed in case she’d found someplace to hide along the way. When he reached a fork in the path, he hesitated before deciding to go right.
When the path veered left again toward the street, he spotted a shadow darting across the road, and knew it was her. As quietly and quickly as he could, he moved down to the end of the property and paused to scan the street.
The shadow was gone, the only things visible the cars parked along the other side of the street. Keeping low, he crept across the road and rounded the front end of the car he was pretty sure she’d disappeared behind, but no one was there. He scanned in both directions, finally picking out the hunched shadow moving down the sidewalk, already twenty cars away.
He started after her, but had gone barely three car lengths when she dashed to the left. Trees along the walkway kept him from seeing where she went, so he hurried to the spot where he’d last seen her.
For a moment, it seemed as if she’d just disappeared, but then he noticed the opening in the fence. He eased through the gap, and found himself on a narrow trail between two shipping containers. When he reached the end, he paused and peeked around the corner.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he whispered.
Dozens of shipping containers filled the lot, some side by side, some stacked, some opened, some closed. Where there weren’t containers, there were piles of scrap metal. And who knew what were in the shadowy parts that ran off to either side.
It was a hider’s paradise and a seeker’s hell.
He crouched down and looked at
the snow, hoping to find fresh prints to follow. But the place was covered by hundreds of shoe imprints. Picking out the woman’s would take forever, if he could pick them out at all.
He scanned the area again, and then jogged to the back of the lot. Another fence. This one looking less compromised than the one in front. If she’d gone over it, he’d have heard it rattle.
He looked back at the junk-filled lot.
Where the hell was she?
DEHLER PRESSED HER ear against the shipping container.
For a few seconds, nothing. Then, footsteps.
He’s here.
She wasn’t actually inside the box, but rather in a crawl space underneath created by the horizontal posts the box was sitting on. She’d had to shove some of the snow out of the way to scoot underneath but that was a good thing, as she was then able to push it all back and obscure her entry point.
Since one end of the box was open, it allowed her to listen as the man moved through the lot. Unfortunately, she lost him whenever he wasn’t in direct line with the opening.
While her makeshift den was cold and far from cozy, she knew her best chance at staying alive was to remain right where she was for as long as possible. She had to assume her pursuer would hang around for a few hours at least, trying to wait her out. Her hastily concocted plan included waiting until morning and then arranging for someone to pick her up. Surely by then, the man would be gone.
She wiggled her back against the snow under the box, and made herself as comfortable as possible. Maybe she could get some sleep. God knew she needed it.
Her knee throbbed so she packed some snow around it, hoping that would help reduce the swelling, and then closed her eyes.
NATE SPENT NEARLY an hour searching for Dehler before he finally gave in to the fact he wasn’t going to find her. Maybe she’d escaped through the back of the lot and he hadn’t heard her. Or maybe she’d left another way.
His gut, however, was telling him she was still around somewhere. He trudged out of the lot, not hiding the sound of his steps. Then, very quietly, he made his way back onto the property and settled down on an old car hood. By five a.m., she still hadn’t appeared, and he knew it was time to move on. The people who worked at this place would be showing up soon.
He gave the area one last scan before leaving, hoping he hadn’t blown his last chance to find her.
IN THE CRAWL space below the shipping container, Dehler slept.
Chapter Twelve
AFTER RETURNING TO the car he’d left parked near the center of the city, Nate made several calls and compiled a short list of logistics specialists living in and around Munich. These were the people who would be called upon to organize missions, and thus likely have contact with other local operatives. Out of the list of four, one name stood out. Karl Reiser.
Nate had been tangentially associated with several of Reiser’s operations in the past, so he knew the guy was well connected. A few more calls revealed Reiser had definitely worked with Dehler. Multiple times, in fact. One contact reported that Reiser and Dehler appeared to know each other well.
Nate made a return visit to the local supplier from whom he’d obtained the gun, and picked up a few specialized items before heading to the airport to pick up Daeng and Jar.
In the car on the way back to the city, he brought his friends up to speed on his failure to capture Dehler.
“The only good thing is we definitely know Dehler is the one we’re looking for,” he said. “If she’s smart, though, she has already left town.”
Jar pulled her laptop out of her bag. “I will check the airlines and trains.”
Nate gave her a nod but doubted she’d find anything. Dehler would likely flee Munich in a way that would leave no trace.
“So where are we going?” Daeng asked.
“I found someone who might be able to point us in her direction.”
“Not all is lost, then.”
“God, I hope not.” Nate told them about Reiser and how he wanted to play the situation, finishing with, “I’m open to better ideas if you have them.”
“Sounds fun to me,” Daeng said.
“Fun for you, because I will be the one doing all the work,” Jar said.
Smirking, Nate said, “You’ll find what you need in that duffel bag on the floor back there.”
Jar hefted the heavy bag onto the seat beside her and started digging through it.
They exited the autobahn at Dachauer Strasse, and drove west until they reached an old, cracked road that ran through a large, deserted lot.
“Um, what kind of place is this?” Daeng asked.
“I would also like to know the answer to that,” Jar said.
“Well, Daeng, Ms. Spock, this is my first time here, too, so I haven’t a clue.”
Jar started to say something, but Daeng cut her off with, “Take it as a compliment.”
“But he just—”
“A compliment.”
A few hundred meters in, a closed gate forced them to stop. On the other side were several dilapidated buildings that appeared to have once been part of a factory. The nearest structure had a brick chimney shooting up from the middle, towering over the property at least seventy-five meters high. Most of the building’s windows and those of the structures surrounding it were boarded up. Between that unattractive detail and the deteriorating condition of the walls, it was clear the place had been abandoned decades ago.
But supposedly, it wasn’t.
“I’ll be right back,” Nate said, and then climbed out.
From even a few feet away, the gate looked as rundown as the buildings beyond it, but up close, Nate saw it was an illusion. The frame was steel reinforced, and the chain link that covered it was industrial grade and welded into place instead of held there by wires. Both the frame and the mesh had been expertly painted to give it its old look. And while there was a chain with an old padlock slung around a post, ostensibly locking the gate in place, that was another lie. The post and the chain were actually part of the gate itself. It was a second post that served as the true start of the fence. The two posts were held together by a powerful magnetic lock.
As Nate had been told, there was a button on the second post, half a meter up from the ground. He pressed it with his shoe and waited.
For several seconds nothing happened, and then a crackle escaped from a speaker hidden within the post.
“Who the hell are you?” a groggy, hoarse voice asked in German.
“Sorry to wake you, Karl. It’s Nate.”
“Nate? I don’t know any Nate.”
“You do, but it’s probably slipped your mind. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten my partner, though. Jonathan Quinn?”
That seemed to wake the guy up. “Quinn? Is he with you?”
“I’m here on his behalf.”
A pause. “Oh, yeah. Sure, I remember you. You’re his apprentice, right?”
“Was his apprentice. We’re partners now.”
A chuckle. “All right, Quinn’s partner, what do you want?”
“Information.”
“What information?”
“I’m sure this would be easier inside.”
“I am inside.”
“But I’m not. And I’m the one who will be paying.”
“How much?”
“That depends on what you give me.”
“What if it’s something I don’t want to talk about?”
“Could you just let us in, please? It’s cold out here.”
“Us?”
“My associates and I.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Seriously? Fine. One moment.” Nate pulled out his phone and fired a text off to Quinn. He waited, hands in his pockets to keep them warm.
Not long after, the speaker crackled again with Reiser’s voice. “Fine. You can all come in. The big building. Not the one with the chimney, the other one. Third floor. You’ll figure out how to find me.”
The gate
swung open.
NATE PARKED THE car near the entrance of the building Reiser had indicated, slotting it between a Mercedes van and a new-looking BMW M6 Coupe. What had once served as the main entrance was boarded up tight. The current way in was via a graffitied basement door that buzzed, signaling it was unlocked, as soon as they were standing near it.
Creaky stairs took them to a third floor that, at first, looked as rundown as all the rest, but when they passed through another buzzing door, everything changed. While the space might not have been Architectural Digest cover ready, it was not even close to dilapidated. The giant room had been transformed into a clean and functional, industrial-type loft.
Four men stood inside, facing the entrance. The three youngest were in a row, the middle guy holding a shotgun, his two friends each armed with a pistol. Reiser stood behind them, as skinny as ever, and now sporting an ill-advised soul patch and more salt and pepper in his hair than Nate remembered.
“Let’s get this over with,” Reiser said in German. “Tell me what you want to know and I’ll tell you how much it’ll cost you.” He looked nervous, ticky, the corner of his mouth bouncing up and down every few seconds.
“First, we keep this in English,” Nate said with a nod toward Daeng and Jar. “For my colleagues.” Though Daeng spoke almost passable German, Jar didn’t know the language.
Reiser looked like he didn’t have much respect for someone who didn’t speak his mother tongue, but he shrugged and said in English, “Whatever you want.”
“Good. Second, dismiss your friends.”
“Not a chance.”
“Then I guess you don’t want our money.” Nate turned back toward the door, Daeng and Jar following. “I’ll be sure to let Quinn know about your refusal to help.”
The Aggrieved Page 10
