“Fancy seeing you here.”
Mahler turned, hearing the familiar voice. Vera Wolf stood behind her, dressed in a red Prada business suit with black leather boots, and fine black wool coat.
“I see you enjoy Frank’s too.” She smiled.
“I do, Minister. Congratulations on your victory.”
“Thank you, Detective. And you’ll be happy to hear I’ll be reversing Obermeyer’s frugal policies, and reinstating funding back to all law enforcement and first responders with a ten percent raise.”
“I am very happy to hear that. Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” she said. “Whatever would we do without our police, and firefighters, and EMS? What the old administration did was shameful.”
“I agree.” Birgitta stepped up and placed her order. Within moments, her sandwich was packed in a to-go box. She pulled out her credit card.
“No, no. Let me get that for you. It’s the least I can do.” Vera Wolf stepped to the counter. “Please put Detective Mahler’s order onto my ticket.” She handed over payment.
Mahler pasted on a smile. “Thank you, again. You didn’t have to, though.”
The young man behind the counter handed the new minister her order, grinning as he recognized her, and whipped out his phone to take a picture. She smiled for him, posing with her Frank’s bag. Looking at Birgitta, Vera Wolf winked. “It’s only money. We ladies know how it should be used to everyone’s best advantage. You know, Ritt never understood that. Always seeking money and power while taking both away from those around him, from the people who need it most. He was selfish. You know, yourself, the extent of his indulgences with whores. It was all about satisfying his immediate desires, and showing off, throwing his personal fortune around. He thought it would insulate him, save him from losing his lofty position. I guess his money didn’t save him after all.” She turned, waving. “Take care, Detective.”
Mahler watched the woman walking away to the ministry car and driver waiting for her. In that moment, she knew. Vera Wolf was every bit as dangerous as her surname suggested. She’d fought her way to the top by intentionally sinking her opponent. When threats hadn’t worked, she arranged to take him out of the picture permanently. It didn’t even matter that Obermeyer survived the attempt; the result was the same. Dead man or dead political career. Either worked. Still, without proof of the payoff, Mahler had no case, only what her gut told her was the truth. That would never be enough in a court of law against a popular new Minister of the Interior. Sick to her stomach, she dumped the sandwich Wolf paid for into the garbage and headed back to work.
Epilogue
THE DAY DAWNED COLD, yet sunny. A light snow fell the night before leaving a blanket of pristine white flakes glistening in the bright sunshine. Guests arrived at Berlin-Mitte’s Soho House, gathering inside the Torstrasse event room overlooking Alexanderplatz. The AV area, usually used for business meetings, had been transformed into an intimate, romantic setting with seating for eighty-one attendees on crème-colored chairs tied with silver tulle bows. The altar was flanked by two large floral sprays standing well over five feet in height and filled with white peonies and white roses interspersed with purple freesia, lavender, and sprigs of dark green fern. The crème vases holding the giant bouquets were tied with purple satin bows. The wood paneled wall behind the altar was draped with a curtain of cream satin cloth tied with purple and silver ribbons draping down in curling waves.
In the bridal suite, Birgitta stood before the full-length mirror, making last minute adjustments to her hair. Elsa helped while Sarah chatted in the background.
“I think you look perfect, Birgitta,” she said.
Elsa smiled at her friend. Sarah Brown had grown into a lovely woman. No longer was she the naïve librarian she’d been when she first visited Berlin. After her experiences abroad, and her short-lived relationship with Anthony de Luca, Sarah had grown, maturing beyond her years. She’d returned to Texas, and gone back to school, earning an Associate’s Degree in Liberal Arts with a concentration in languages. She intended to continue on to a Bachelor’s Degree with a mind to becoming a teacher. And she had a surprise for Elsa.
“I’m moving to Berlin for a year as part of an exchange program. I’ll finish out my degree here.”
She dropped this bombshell on her first night at Elsa’s. Her brother, Anno, had nearly done a backflip, but Lukas was quick to squelch his enthusiasm, taking him aside.
“You know it’s never going to happen, right?” He chuckled as he put his arm around the young man.
“What do you mean? It could happen! I’m nineteen, not a child anymore.” Anno stood nearly as tall as Lukas, almost as muscular now, but still appeared the boy next to a man like Trommler.
“Whatever you say, Anno. No, no,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, “I applaud your ambition.” He threw a glance at Sarah standing next to Elsa. Both women were beautiful, and quite striking in their differences. One petite and feisty, with flaming red waves, and one taller, blonde, and very much the girl next door type. He could see the appeal to a young man like his love’s little brother, but he knew women, and Sarah Brown would never be interested in a boy. She was an intellectual. A woman like that needed a man, one who’d traveled, lived. “But surely you know she sees you like her own little brother?”
Anno huffed. “That could change...” His voice faltered, showing his uncertainty.
“I’ve not seen it change yet in all my years.” He clapped Anno on the back. “But don’t fret over it. You’re not a bad looking sort,” he grinned, ignoring the younger man’s glare, “and you’ll be at a wedding. There’s sure to be a few possibilities closer to your own age. I’ll even play wingman for you.”
This caught Anno’s attention. “Yeah? Well, I don’t really need a wingman—”
“Everyone needs a wing man. Shut up and take my offer. It’s a one-time deal.”
“Okay.”
Lukas shared this exchange with Elsa after everyone had gone to bed, much to her amusement. She still hadn’t mentioned anything more about Paul Christiansen coming to the wedding. He wasn’t Lukas’s favorite person, but perhaps with Sarah to distract Paul away from flirting with her, something he used to do out of habit, Lukas would be more tolerant of the man.
Now, the three women made final preparations before the start of the ceremony, happy to all be together once more.
On the second floor, Heinz arrived with Lukas and Anno. Faust made it through the door with Helga in tow in time.
“You’re almost late, Herman! I thought I was going to have to stand up there alone for a minute.”
Faust flew him the bird. “As if I’d miss this, the day the great Kommissar Joseph A. Heinz gets his wings clipped.”
“What wings? I’m happy to be a kept rooster,” Heinz snorted.
“Cockadoodle doo, then, you crusty old bird.”
Helga stepped forward. “Joseph, good luck, darling.” She kissed his cheek.
Heinz hugged her close. “Thank you, Helga. Thanks for being here today.”
“Like my husband, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She pulled back, touching his face. “You deserve to be happy, so be happy, eh?”
Heinz smiled at her, admiring the woman who’d stolen Herman’s heart all those years ago, after clobbering Karl Keller, of course. That was the icing on Cupid’s cake as far as Faust was concerned. The years had been kind to Helga. Her once long, red hair was now styled shorter, and liberally streaked with shiny white and silver ‘highlights’ as she called them. Her blue eyes sparkled with humor, creased at the sides from decades of laughter. Hers was a face that clearly communicated a lifetime of happiness. She knew what he’d been through from the early days when he’d first met and married Eva to this, the day he would marry the love of his lifetime, the amazing woman with whom he intended to spend the rest of his days.
“I will, Helga, I promise.”
She turned to Faust. “I’ll see you inside. Don�
�t be too rough on Joseph. Remember, he was there to hold you up on our wedding day.” She reminded him of his own nerves at the altar almost thirty years ago.
“You take all the fun out of it, love.” Faust kissed her cheek. “I’ll behave.”
“Good boy.” She patted his behind on the way out.
Lukas burst out laughing. “I like her, Faust!”
Faust glared at the man. “She’s taken.”
“Down, you old dog. No one is going to steal your woman.” Joseph laughed at them, feeling joyful.
A knock on the door interrupted their comradery. Anno answered while Heinz and Faust changed, putting on their tuxedos.
“A royal purple vest. Christ.” Faust pointed at Joseph, snickering.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at, Herman. Yours is purple too.” Heinz unzipped the suit bag and handed out the vest to his best man.
“What? Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to look like a fat grape up there.”
Lukas whipped out his cell phone and snapped a picture. “I overheard Birgitta gushing about how the color brings out your eyes, Heinz.” He batted his lashes as he shared the picture on his social media, tagging Elsa.
“Did you just post that? Dammit, Lukas!” Heinz threw a thunderous glare at the younger man.
“What are you complaining about? There’s a wedding photographer out there about to take hundreds of pictures. They’re going to be all over your house, and on Birgitta’s social media, not to mention her desk at work.”
Heinz froze. “Not her desk...” He hadn’t thought about that. “I’ll never live this down.”
“You and me, both,” said Faust, shrugging into the vest. “Good lord.” He stood before the mirror, tugging the vest down. “Even the sash is purple.” He tossed a look at Joseph. “I don’t think this falls into the parameters of our friendship agreement.”
“Shut up, you fat grape!” Heinz stepped next to him. They stood together, sneering at their reflections. “At least the rest of the tux is black. I suppose I should be thankful she didn’t turn us both into Liberace.”
Anno approached Heinz. “Someone sent you a groom’s gift.” He handed over a small box about the size of his hand wrapped with gold paper and tied with gold ribbon.
“Who’s it from?” Heinz looked for a card or a tag.
“I don’t know. Some man dropped it off, said it was delivered earlier to the desk with instructions to make sure you received it before the wedding.” Anno checked the clock on the wall. “I need to get out there and help usher people in. Jan is already dressed and waiting to walk his mom down the aisle.”
“My soon to be stepson,” Joseph grinned.
Anno left, and Lukas joined him. “Not much longer, gentlemen.” He looked at Heinz. “I know I give you a hard time, but congratulations, Joseph. She’s a wonderful woman.” He extended his hand, and Heinz gripped it, giving it a shake.
“Thank you, Lukas. I’m a lucky man.”
The groom and the best man were finally alone. “Well, what’s in the box?” Faust asked, taking a seat.
“Don’t know. Let’s see.” Heinz began unwrapping the box. Beneath the paper, the black box was embossed in gold with the brand name, Rolex. His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Did my love buy me a Rolex? Damn!” He looked at Faust, grinning. “What did I say about being a lucky man?” He pulled the lid off. “Still, a Rolex is very pricey.”
Inside, a slim, gold Rolex watch sat upon a bed of black velvet. It was, indeed, quite expensive looking. A small envelope fell out from the lid, fluttering to the floor.
Heinz bent to pick it up. On the outside, it read Kommissar Heinz. His head cocked to the side as his brow furrowed.
“Well?” Faust noticed the look on his face. “What is it?”
Heinz read the note. A picture accompanied the missive. Red tinged his cheeks, and moisture gathered in his eyes. He couldn’t speak. He handed the note and picture to Faust.
The Direktor read it and glanced at the picture. “Frau Karakova and her son,” he said. He looked at his friend. “So, she’s safe. But that’s good news. Why are you upset? And what does this note mean? I don’t understand.”
Heinz paced, and then turned to Faust. “Yes, she’s safe. She and Alexei are in Sweden. I recognize Strandvagen in the background. But the note...”
Faust read it out loud. “A favor for a favor. The time will come.” He looked at Joseph.
Facing his oldest friend, Heinz swallowed. “It’s from the Butcher.”
“What? Did you—”
“Yes,” Heinz whispered harshly. “To save her and Alexei, I made a deal with the devil.”
Faust was at a loss for words. He shut his mouth, and wadded up the note, throwing it in the trash. Pointing at the watch, he said, “You’d better put that away. Don’t let Birgitta see it,” he handed over the picture of Lana Karakova and her son, “or this. You’ll never be able to explain your way out of it. You’ve come too far.”
“What the hell can I do? I made a promise.” Heinz chewed his lip.
“He hasn’t asked for anything, and there’s no need to ever follow through with—”
“There is every reason, Herman. He obviously knows where to find me at any given time.” He threw his hands in the air, pacing again. “Worse, he knows where to find Lana and her son.”
Faust knew this was true. “Well, there’s no reason to worry over it now. It seems Brezhnev sought to remind you of your deal, and he did. I understand why you did it, Joseph. Honestly, I would have done the same. I’m glad you found a way to save her.” He walked over and patted his friend on the back. “There’s nothing for it but to put it aside and worry about it when the time actually comes. When it does, we’ll make a plan. Right now, there’s a roomful of family and friends waiting to see you get married, and a beautiful woman delusional enough to say I do is waiting to walk down the aisle.”
Before he could stop himself, Heinz reached out and hugged his friend. “Thank you, Herman. Thank you for understanding, and for always being there for me.”
“You’re welcome. And I always will be.” They remained that way, embracing, two friends who’d already shared a lifetime of adventures, both good and bad, and then broke apart. “But if you ever tell anyone about our moment, I’ll deny you like Judas!”
Heinz chuckled. Faust handed him his jacket and put on his own. They stood staring at each other, purple vests, sashes, and all.
“Christ,” said Faust.
“Suck it up, old man,” said Heinz.
With one last look in the unforgiving mirror, Faust sighed. “Let’s go.”
Book IV
The Making of Herman Faust
The Prequel Novella
When the walls come tumbling down...
HERMAN FAUST IS THE no-nonsense Direktor of the LKA (The LandesKriminalamt, similar to the American CIA) and long-time friend of Kommissar Joseph Heinz. His career spans thirty years, and he is now on the cusp of retirement. Although usually cool and in control, a man of dry wit, it wasn't always so for Faust. With experience, came wisdom, hard won wisdom for which he paid a high price.
1988: For rookie officer Herman Faust, a routine, late night traffic stop turns into the apprehension of a high priority defector, one with ties to the Soviet bio-weapons program Obolensk. After bringing the woman and her brother in for questioning, the man disappears, and the woman is found inside her holding cell...dead. The American CIA intervenes, confiscating the woman’s corpse and demanding answers even as more bodies pile up around them. Faust has none to offer, but begins receiving anonymous calls threatening his family, and his own life. As clues come to light linking his superior, Captain Rolf Rheinhardt, to the woman, and to a Soviet plot to launch a biological weapon on the American Embassy, Faust knows he must risk all to stop the deadly pathogen from being released on innocent civilians. The stability of West Berlin is at risk, and if Faust fails to solve the case, it will be war! This is his story. This is the making of Herma
n Faust.
Chapter One
“PLEASE, GET OUT OF the car.” The request was issued with authority.
Inside the sedan, a man with dark hair and a slight build began to exit the driver’s side door. He pulled his coat tighter around him while shifting his eyes left and right.
“I really don’t see why this is necessary...,” he began. “I have my papers here.” He started to reach inside his coat.
“Stop!” The blond officer pulled his service revolver out, aiming it dead center of the man’s chest. “Raise your hands and turn around! Place them on the roof of your vehicle, and do not move!” He approached the man, placing the gun at his back. With one hand, the officer reached around, patting the man down first on one side, then the other. Finally, he retrieved the papers found inside the gentleman’s coat. He stepped back, and attempted to read them, but it was dark on the side of the road, and rain fell in a soaking mist.
The man glanced over his shoulder. “I’m Gunter Meyer. A banker. I live at Number 52, Kreutznacherstrasse in Steglitz.”
The officer nodded, muttering, “Figures. Jewish, and a banker.” He handed the papers back to Meyer. “You may turn around.”
Gunter Meyer turned slowly as he put his papers back into his coat pocket.
“What are you doing out so late, and so close to the border of the DDR?”
Meyer shifted his weight. “I was merely out for a drive. Is that now against the law too?”
The blond officer remained quiet, staring at Meyer. He still held the gun in his hand, and it was still aimed in the man’s direction.
Meyer waited, casting his eyes down, and then back up. “Well? Can I go or am I being detained?”
“Is there a reason I should detain you?”
“What? No! Of course not. I was simply asking...” Meyer huffed. He clenched and unclenched his hands, a clear sign of his anxiety.
The officer shrugged. “You may go, but I would not make a habit of these moonlight drives. It’s not safe out here.” He began to holster his firearm.
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 73
