Rain splattered on the Opel's windscreen and the steering wheel wobbled each time the tires struck a pothole on the rutted road off the 404. The new woods had been planted in orderly rows to either side. Alex Brucken shook his head. He should not be here, however the baron had insisted on the police officer coming to his mansion to report about his confrontation with the American at the airport. He should have refused the deviation from the usual rendezvous by the Alstersee, except the police officer was also curious to see how the top .00001% lived.
He had first seen little reason for following the American. His working papers out of order was a problem for immigration and his seeing Herr Von Hausen's mistress didn’t not involve the baron's wife's infidelities with Kurt Oster. The money in the case changed everything, but this last chore had seriously overstepped the boundaries of police procedure and endangered his position with Stupo. He was calling it quits, but his honor required his telling that to Lukas Von Hausen face to face.
Alex Brucken swung the wheel to the right too late to avoid a deep puddle. The front end dipped underwater and the ventilation pumped in a gaseous vapor. With the money from this job, he would buy a good second-hand family car. The rest would finance for a down payment on a house out in Wedel, so his children could grow up away from the influences of the Turks and Palestinians crowding the inner city school.
A kilometer from the main road the Opel turned onto a dirt driveway and passed the estate's unoccupied gatehouse. Alex Brucken was disappointed by finding a decaying mansion instead of a fairy tale castle, then the rich lived in another world than people like himself.
Despite what the baron had told him, he was not born yesterday. His name might have protected him from being arrested before, though not from being noted in the police files. Herr Von Hausen had been a junkie, a homosexual, a leftist sympathizer, and was now a member of a banned right-wing organization. It was only a matter of time, till the baron moved from the files to prison.
The Opel braked before the portico. The front door was open. Alex walked inside the mansion, then came to a halt in the darkness. Two sputtering candles let the entrance. The hallway was devoid of any furniture. The faint chords of classical music filtered from upstairs. As his eyes adjusted to the murk, Alex spotted a man in the corner and reached for his 9mm automatic.
"Alex, Alex, there's no need for a gun. It's only me." The baron stepped from the shadows. His hands were mockingly half-raised, as if surrendering himself into custody. "Sorry to startle you."
"I am tired. That's all," Alex said, though was angry for admitting any weakness to this man. He reported about rousting the American at the airport and the case of money. The baron listened silently and at the end said, "It must have been a long day, but I thank you for this work. It meant a lot to me."
Lukas had been worried about the police officer ever since hearing his voice on the telephone. He was obviously having serious misgivings about having performed these extracurricular activities. He could easily become another certainly another problem. During the Seventies Lukas could have shot him dead and dumped the body, claiming the murder to be an act of the Baader-Meinhof Gang or the Red Army. Nowadays a policeman's death would spur a major investigation and that would mean a knock at his door.
"You are wondering why you followed this American and anyone involved with Kurt Oster. As I told you, my wife is involved with the nightclub owner. I love her and hope one day she will see the error of her ways. You have seen my wife. She is beautiful, yes?"
Alex Brucken nodded, though the baron's wife was out of his class. His more immediate concern was both whether Herr Von Hausen's would pay the remainder of his fee.
Lukas turned on a single light, illuminating the desolate hallway.
"You can see to what I have been reduce. My last money was spent to protect the honor of my wife, but it is too late. What you had told me has convinced me of that."
The words 'Last money' assured him that this job was over, but he still had to say, "I can not work for you anymore, Herr Von Hausen."
"And I can not pay you for anymore. I am broke. Not a pfennig left of the Von Hausen fortune. You have no idea what it is to lose the woman you love."
"I am sorry," Alex said blankly, certain the baron was about to stiff him.
"It is not your fault and it is not like a Von Hausen to leave a debt of honor unpaid." The baron handed the police officer a packet of money. "No, do not pity me. I will find a job, maybe a rich heiress. My kind always does."
Alex wanted to check that the money was all there, but this was neither the time nor the place. The sight of a grown man crying, especially a complete stranger, sickened him and he backed down the hallway, saying, "Good luck, sir."
"Yes, I need that," Lukas replied before lowering his face into his hands.
Once the Opel left the yard, Lukas lifted his head and broke into a broad smile. The expression of revulsion on the policeman's face had been priceless. Few Germans could handle another person's emotion and the policeman had been no exception.
Alex Brucken's last information about the American had solved the jigsaw puzzle. Cali had been borrowing large sums of money, which he gave to Kurt, who wired it to a bank in Geneva, where the American picked it up and brought it back to Hamburg. None of the pieces mattered, until you considered the transvestite banker in Hamburg, who was in charge of international wire transfers.
Kurt and Cali had forced the banker in Hamburg misdirect funds to Geneva and the recent sums entering the Swiss account would lull the Geneva bank into a complacency about large amounts of money entering the account.
Once the money wire transfer had been placed into Kurt's account, there remained the last problem of picking up such a large sum of money. Normally the thieves would have pushed the funds through several offshore accounts, till it hit the Bahamas or Cayman Islands, then waited several years before moving the money to another account elsewhere for distribution.
Lukas was counting on impatience.
Kurt and Cali would pick up the money the same day they stole it, which had to mean at the Swiss bank in Geneva. Lukas knew exactly who to call to erect an unexpected detour for the two friends.
The policeman might be a problem later on, though nothing compared to his partner in crime. Eliminating SS Tommy would be difficult, but hardly an impossibility and Lukas laughed, for it would be a pleasure, but then almost everything he did would be soon, because now he possessed a reason to live and no one could take that away from him.
No comments:
Post a Comment