“Now, was your source a man named Rudi Oppel?” Salome’s hands moved up and down his legs as she introduced the names of possible leaks.
Wolfgang squirmed, sliding down a bit in his seat. “I’ve never met him, but I do know who he is.”
Salome removed her hands. “Tsk tsk. You need only nod yes or no.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He shook his head in the negative. Salome leaned closer between his knees, and resumed touching his thighs, her breasts swaying as she allowed them to come into contact with his legs.
“Okay, then. How about a blond man named Karl?”
The journalist again shook his head “No.” Hands moved further up, making circles with her manicured fingernails.
“Any special forces types? Law enforcement?”
Mahler waited. This one could be key. Still, Hachmeister offered a negative reply. Salome looked at her. She was running out of names.
“Is it a male?” Mahler added.
Negative reply, and Salome’s hands did not advance. Beads of sweat popped out on Hachmeister’s forehead as his erection strained the threads of his pants.
Salome returned to her questioning. “Is it a female?”
A strong nod yes was accompanied by short, panting breaths. He was giving Salome clues with his eyes to keep asking, or maybe it was to put him out of his misery. At this point, Mahler wasn’t sure.
“Okay, and is this woman someone we might know?”
Again, a nod for yes. He was squirming hard in his chair.
“Is she famous?”
Wolfgang’s head nodded.
“Famous as in celebrity?”
Back to a negative shake.
“Not a celebrity, but she would be known to us. A public figure?”
Nodding again. Hachmeister’s hand waved at Salome to keep asking. The man licked his lips, mouth agape. He was pretty far gone now, and her fingertips were merely an inch from touching his tent pole.
She looked at Mahler. “Someone in government?”
He looked at Mahler, nodding.
Salome took it home. “Do you know her name?”
He nodded yes.
Mahler stared at Hachmeister, voicing her suspicion. “Is her name Vera Wolf?”
He stared back, reluctant. Salome’s hands stilled, and he looked pained. He was biting his lip, having an internal struggle between his journalistic integrity, and immediate need. Looking around, he seemed to come to the conclusion that his integrity had already gone out the window. He nodded once, and then looked at the woman between his thighs, need shining in his glazed blue eyes.
Salome stood, leaving him high and dry. “Thank you, Herr Hachmeister. It has been no pleasure.”
“What? Wait! You can’t just leave me like this...” He stopped himself, sitting up straight, clearly uncomfortable. “Get out. Get out of my office!”
“Have a wonderful day, Wolfgang.” Birgitta turned and left, followed by Salome. They could still hear Hachmeister cursing as he got up and slammed his door shut.
“Probably going to finish himself off,” Salome laughed.
“You think so? Here?” Mahler was shocked.
“Why not? He was willing to let me do it for him here. What’s the difference?”
“I don’t know anymore.” They headed down the elevator. “But now we have the source, thanks to you and your impressive skills. My God, you could turn governments on their ears.” What she needed to find out next was how Vera Wolf knew these details. The only logical answer was that she was the one making the threats, but this didn’t seem to fit with who the woman was. She had no real motive to make such threats. Sure, Obermeyer ended their affair, but Wolf wasn’t the vengeful scorned woman type, was she? She held an important position within the Socialist Democratic Party, and she was also a striking looking woman in her own right. She knew what a dog Obermeyer was when it came to women. She couldn’t have been blind to the tabloids before dating him, so what was the connection? Political gain, perhaps? Sink Obermeyer before the election to help boost her own party? It wouldn’t be unheard of, but it certainly jeopardized the investigation. How she knew what she knew was the key. For that alone, she would need to pay a call on Vera Wolf.
Mahler’s phone rang. “Yes?”
“It’s Levitz. We have Oppel.”
“I’m coming in. Remember, Captain, no one can question him except Dieter. I’m calling him now.” She hung up and dialed.
“Kelner,” he answered.
“Dieter, it’s Birgitta. We have Oppel at the station.”
“I’m on my way. No one questions him but me.”
“I know. I’ve already reminded Levitz.”
“Good,” he said. “I’ll bring Lukas along.”
He hung up. Birgitta looked at Salome. “I need to get back to the station house. I’ll get you a cab.” She hailed the first passing taxi.
As Salome stepped into the backseat, Mahler leaned down. “Thank you, Salome. I truly appreciate what you did to help me.”
The woman smiled, placing her hand on Mahler’s. “You’re welcome. And thank you, for keeping your word. I’ll never forget it...or you.” She leaned out, quickly placing a kiss on Mahler’s lips. “Auf wiedersehen!”
She closed the door, and the taxi drove off. Mahler stood, stunned. Shaking her head, she made her way to her car, and drove straight to headquarters. Vera Wolf would have to wait. They now had the bird in the hand.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE PORT IN STOCKHOLM was bustling with activity. Getting off the ship unnoticed was made easier because of it. Heinz, Faust, Elsa, and the child were just a group of many in the throng of dockhands milling back and forth to load and unload cargo. The first order of business was contacting HackTwice. She met them at a café located a mile from the dock. In short order, she arranged for two hotel rooms near the airport, and began work on new passports for all of them for a bump in her usual pay, of course.
“The child’s will take the most time. I have no information on her. You’ve provided me with your own faux identities beforehand. It’s just a matter of printing them out. I need to know her name, age, place of birth, and birthdate, also mother and father.”
Heinz sighed. “We actually don’t know her birthdate. I know she’s three years old. Her name is Nikola Schubert. Her mother was Marlessa Schubert. Her father is unknown. She was born in St. Petersburg, Russia. I suppose you could use her mother’s birthdate. It’s March 7th, and just subtract three years.”
HackTwice noted the information. Then, she had Elsa hold the little girl in front of the white wall of the diner. She snapped a quick close up of her face for the passport. Afterwards, the gothic hacker dropped them at the hotel, and arranged for room service. “I’ll be back in the morning with your papers, and some travel cash. I’ll expect payment to my account as soon as you get back to Berlin, Herr Direktor,” she addressed Faust.
“Of course. Thank you for being so efficient.” He watched her leave and turned to Heinz. “I had no idea she was so young, and so small!” His eyes reflected his surprise.
“Don’t be so shocked, Herman. Women are strong no matter their age and size. Just look at how well this sweet angel is handling the change in her life.” Elsa held Nikola who looked around the hotel lobby with big, blue eyes. “Come, Nikola. Let’s go see our room!” Already, she was picking up on German words, absorbing everything around her like a sponge. Elsa led the child away, seeking out the room they were to share. Heinz and Faust would share their own.
All they had to do was wait.
“I really need to call Birgitta, but I don’t have a phone. Brezhnev’s thugs took the one HackTwice gave me, and she’s already mailed my phone back to your office along with my real passport.”
Faust inserted the room key card into the slot. “Well, just call from the room in a bit. Put it on the bill. I guess it doesn’t matter now, and you can begin building your barroom brawl lie. Best excuse to use the hotel phone I’ve ever heard.”<
br />
Inside, the room was less than spectacular, but since they had no papers as of yet, it was the best that HackTwice could manage. Paid in cash and no questions asked. Either way, it was a world better than a cold cargo hold. Heinz chose the bed by the window, sinking down onto the brown duvet. “I’m exhausted.” He laid back, stacking the pillows behind him to support his back.
Faust tossed the key card on the dresser, kicked off his shoes, and slowly lowered his out of shape body onto the bed by the door. “Almost like heaven,” he mumbled, laying back and pulling the covers over him. Within minutes, both men were sound asleep.
THE INTERROGATION OF Rudolf ‘Rudi’ Oppel went on for hours. Korvettankapitan Dieter Kelner employed wartime tactics when Oppel refused to answer. Mahler watched from the other side of the two-way glass. Next to her, Lukas and Levitz stood, arms crossed over their chests. It was excruciating to behold. She’d never before witnessed what field-trained soldiers did to extract confessions, and what she’d read or seen in movies didn’t come close to the reality. Oppel made only the statement that he had no involvement in the attempted murder of Ritt Obermeyer, and that he absolutely did not murder Bierkit “Marilyn’ Wiedner. He demanded his lawyer, and then clammed up after that.
Kelner left him inside the interrogation room, handcuffed to the steel table for an hour. He then re-entered carrying water, which he did not offer Oppel, but rather, drank it in front of him. When Rudi continued to resist, Kelner left again, this time turning the thermostat up in the room, heating it. He also turned on loud rock music leaving Oppel to sweat it out. The music kept the man on edge, increasing his anxiety, and the heat wore him down. Still, he did not crack.
Lukas entered the fray after the third hour. He carried in a file, which he placed in front of Oppel. Opening it, he pulled out a series of pictures. All were prints taken off Rudi’s website showing him dressed up like Marilyn.
“Do you recognize these images?” Lukas stood, one leg on a chair opposite Oppel as he balanced on one foot. He pointed at the first picture.
Oppel refused to look. “I want my lawyer.”
“It looks remarkably like you. Rachel, is it?” Lukas pressed on. “Just what is Benders and Enders? What do you do there? Who do you do there?” He paused. Oppel remained close-lipped. Lukas continued. “What a strange thing for you to do, the man who prostitutes women against their will, to quite literally prostitute yourself. I mean, you’re the undersecretary to the Minister of the Interior. Are you so unsatisfied with your job? Lonely, perhaps? Twisted and perverted?”
Oppel’s eyes narrowed.
Lukas pressed the next button. “Or jealous?”
Rudi’s jaw tightened, but he remained quiet.
The chair scraped the concrete floor as Lukas pulled it out, and lowered himself into it, leaning onto the table. “Jealousy it is, then. Want to tell me why you murdered Marilyn? What or who did she have that you wanted?”
Oppel exploded. “I did not murder her!” Spittle flew from his lips.
“Then who did? Spit it out, Rudi! If you didn’t kill her then you know who did or else you wouldn’t have been on the run, hiding out!”
The petite man shook with rage, but he contained it.
“We know all about your side businesses, Rudi. As we speak, Madame Denouve is in custody, and my men are raiding all three of your brothels. You ran whores, prostitutes that were illegally kept. We know all about your strong-arm tactics, threatening these women and men, taking away their passports. Many of these so-called sex workers are victims of kidnappings, sons and daughters whose families have been searching for them for years. How do you even sleep at night, slime that you are? We already have you on sex trafficking, complicity in multiple abductions, so if you think a lawyer can help you escape the twenty to thirty year prison sentence you’re already going to receive, then I suppose I can go ahead and give him a call. Still, I think many of these photos will find their way to the press...just for my amusement.”
Oppel’s face was red. A vein throbbed in his forehead, and he clenched and unclenched his fists. Sweat poured off of him, drenching the collar of his button-down shirt. Being handcuffed to the table left him unable to remove his suit jacket. If left for too much longer, he’d dehydrate completely and need medical attention. But they weren’t finished with him yet.
“Of course, you could cooperate with us now, and we could negotiate on your sentence. But make no mistake, you’re going to do time. How much is up to you.” Lukas stood, exiting the room. He turned the heat and the radio back up as he walked out and left the file of pictures laying spread out on the steel desk in front of Rudi Oppel. The enraged man sat alone in the room for another hour, left to consider what little was left of his future. By the time Kelner decided to go back in, Rudi was crying like a baby. He was ready to talk.
“I didn’t kill her. I loved her. Not a romantic love, but like a sister. It’s obvious, you see! I admired her. She was so strong.” He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “She was Obermeyer’s favorite toy. He’s a complete whoremonger, but he always returned to her. He was not kind, though. He was abusive, not so much in a physical way, but verbally. He put her down, called her names, and played mind games on her. He would lead her on, and then he’d go off with Karl. She would always tell me these things. That’s how we became friends. She cried on my shoulder, never knowing I was responsible for her predicament. She knew me only as Obermeyer’s assistant. She did not know I owned her or the agency. Still, I never knew anyone could be so brave as she was, and I wanted to help her. She reminded me of my mother, how she used to be, before...I didn’t want Marilyn to end up like her!” He looked at Kelner with sad eyes. “I was going to return her passport that night, set her free, so I arranged for the room. A girl’s night out. I went back to the hotel to meet her, but she wasn’t alone.”
Dieter waited, and when Oppel continued to sit in silence, he prompted him by slapping the man across the face. “Who was she with?”
Oppel stared at the table. “They were arguing. I could hear them through the door. I thought it was going to be just the two of us. I was dressed up, happy. I had her passport with me. It was to be a surprise.”
Mahler stepped closer to the glass. The man she’d met, who seemed so together and confident, now appeared beaten down and broken.
“I couldn’t let him see me dressed like her. It would undermine my authority. No one knew my secret except for Marilyn. She was the one who first recognized my need, my desire to be a woman. It was with her when I first slipped on a pair of silken nylons. She helped dress me in her lingerie. I loved it. I’d never felt so beautiful before, but with her, it was just natural. So easy. She accepted me, saw me for who I really am.”
His voice trailed off. Dieter sighed, trying to be patient. He tapped the table. “You said she was arguing...”
Oppel looked up, seeming surprised Dieter was there. His face tightened in anger as he continued. “Yes. They were arguing. He was calling her a second-rate whore, said she couldn’t have him. That he was his, and now always would be. He told her that her time was over, and there was no one who could protect her now.” He seemed lost in grief.
“Who was it? Who was she arguing with and about?” Dieter pushed.
Oppel looked at him. “Karl! It was Karl in the room with her. Jealous, petty, angry Karl! They were arguing over Obermeyer. The shitty part is, Marilyn could have cared less. She’d fallen out of her infatuation with the minister. I knew this. She’d told me. Still, with everything I knew, I had to keep supplying her to him at his demand. I still can’t believe she’s gone. I shouldn’t have left them there. If I’d knocked, maybe she’d still be alive. I left her...to save myself, my reputation.” He dissolved into tears.
Behind the two-way glass, Mahler gasped. She’d interviewed Karl, but he hadn’t triggered her alarms.
“The one that’s still missing,” Lukas shared.
“Then we need to put out a BOLO on him,” Levitz said,
and then turned to Birgitta. “You spoke with all of them, yes? You have his information?”
“I do.”
“Good.” Levitz pulled out his phone and called the desk. “I need all units to be on the lookout for Karl...” He looked at Mahler.
“Gephart. Age twenty-eight. Blond hair, blue eyes.” She pulled her notebook out of her pocket, flipping through the pages, and read. “Approximately one-hundred and eighty-two centimeters in height, and weighs seventy-nine kilos.”
“Did you get that?” Levitz asked the dispatcher on the line. “Good, good. I need this BOLO to go statewide. Karl Gephart should be considered armed and dangerous. He’s wanted for the murder of Bierkit Wiedner and possibly the attempted assassination of the Minister of the Interior.” He completed the details of the order and ended the call.
“It is certainly no great leap in logic that he tried to kill Obermeyer in a fit of jealous rage. It kind of makes sense. I did think the threats seemed more like they came from a woman. Except...” Mahler speculated out loud.
Lukas clapped her on the back, not paying attention to her trailing statement. “Almost there. Kelner still needs to connect the dots from Oppel to the authorized drugs and human cargo coming into and out of Hamburg.”
Mahler remained at the glass, watching Rudi Oppel fall to pieces. Something still didn’t add up. The argument he says he overheard happened in the evening. This was after the fact of the shooting of Obermeyer in the park. Why would Karl go to Marilyn after shooting the minister? Wouldn’t he go into hiding instead? It would make sense if he was seeking help to hide him, but the argument Oppel described doesn’t sound like a man asking for help. It sounded like someone rubbing it in, if what he stated is true. And something else emerged in the interrogation. Oppel mentioned something about his mother, that Wiedner reminded him of her, of “the way she used to be,” and that the woman accepted him as he truly was. Did that mean his mother did not? That she knew her son was a transvestite? Why did this even matter? She pondered the last while focusing on the first. Karl Gephart might well be the man who murdered Bierkit Wiedner, but it was possible there was still another perpetrator in the wind.
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 69
