The Berlin Conspiracy (6 page)

Of course it didn’t take long for the Langley Boys Club to realize what it all meant. Christ, if they could spot a golf ball on the green from eighteen miles up, why the hell did they need a caddie on the payroll? Human intelligence gathering was no longer the thing. Cloak was out, which left only the dagger. So guys like Chase started showing up. Contract cowboys who get a hard-on looking at pictures in
Soldier of Fortune.

I doubled back and came at the hotel from the other side of Kurfürstendamm, West Berlin’s main spending drag. A wide boulevard lined with expensive boutiques, it was a haven for well-heeled foreigners dropping the pounds, francs, and dollars that were the city’s lifeblood. The sidewalk was busy enough at this hour, but feeling vulnerable out in the open, I ducked into a small florist’s shop with a view onto the front of the hotel.

A woman in her early fifties—jet-black hair, bright red
suit, and lipstick, covered in gold jewelry—sat behind the counter, surrounded by floral arrangements. She looked over her reading glasses as I entered, gave me an anemic smile, then went back to her newspaper. I pretended to be interested in the window display while I checked out the scene across the street. It didn’t take long to locate Powell sitting at an outside table at Cafe Kempinski, ordering a nice Bordeaux to go with lunch. Baby Bear wasn’t in sight, but he wouldn’t be far away. It occurred to me that if America’s top spy in Berlin had nothing better to do than bag me, then either the world was in a lot better shape than it seemed or a lot worse. Either way, things didn’t look overly promising for me.

The smart move would’ve been to slip out quietly and get lost, but the smart move has never been my specialty. I approached the lady in red, who seemed a bit annoyed that I was going to need her attention.

“Guten tag,”
I smiled, trying to make friends.

“How can I help you?”

Strictly business, so I dropped the charm.

“I’d like to send some flowers.”

“Of course.” She opened her order book. “Please give me the address.”

I told her they were for a gentleman sitting across the street and pointed him out. She shrugged one of her eyebrows and asked, “How much would you like to spend?”

“The maximum.” I smiled, looking her in the eye. She returned the smile, a bit wary, but definitely warmer this time.

“The maximum could be—”

“It doesn’t matter.” I waved her off impatiently, thinking she’d like that. “As long as it’s very big and very showy. I want it noticed. Can you manage that?”

“Of course, yes, I can make something quite conspicuous.”
She was being very helpful now. “Would you like a card to go with it?”

“Yes, I would, with this message-” I dictated as she wrote: “’To Mama Bear … Don’t stay mad. I’ll be in touch soon. … Love, Goldilocks.’” I had to spell
Goldilocks
for her.

“Fine. I will deliver it myself,” she promised.

“Thank you,” I said. Then, before she could ask: “You can put it on my bill at the Kempinski. Mr. Teller, in Suite 702.”

She looked dubious.

“It’s all right,” I assured her. “Here’s my room key. … If it’s a problem we can phone the concierge—”

“No, of course that won’t be necessary, Mr. … ?”

“Teller,” I reiterated. “Suite 702.”

“I’m sure it will be no problem.”

“Good,” I smiled. She’d check it out, but the hotel would be more than happy to put it on the bill and add a hefty surcharge for the courtesy. The Company would be settling the bill, so it was no skin off my nose.

“Do you have a back exit?” I asked, explaining that it would spoil the moment if my friend saw me before the flowers arrived.

“Yes, of course,” she went along. “There is a door through there.” She indicated a velvet curtain. “But—”

I pulled the curtain back and heard the end of her sentence at the same moment I saw a mouth full of fangs sink into my calf.

“—watch out for Bruno” was what she said.

Bruno was a big boy, a Doberman with a bad attitude. His mistress was able to call him off before he did any serious damage, but he managed to get a piece of my pants and a
chunk of flesh to go with it before unclamping his jaw. She explained that he was usually very friendly, that I’d taken him by surprise. Meaning, I guess, that it was my fault. She asked if I wanted a doctor and reluctantly offered to pay for my trousers, but Bruno looked a little too pleased with himself to worry about any of that. I thought I should get out before he decided on a second course.

The door opened onto a narrow alleyway. I leaned against a garbage can, rolled my pant leg up, and checked my wound. The beast had put two neat holes in my lower leg, like a fucking vampire dog. It hurt like hell, too. I’d have to get it cleaned up, but first I had to figure out what my next move was.

It was 12:40. The Colonel’s note, which I’d burned as soon as I’d looked at it, had given me the time and place for our second meeting:

Eight hours and twenty minutes to kill with no food, no money, no sleep, and my goddamned leg starting to throb like a son of a bitch. What the hell was I doing here, anyway? I was supposed to be floating on the smooth coral sea with my hook in the water.

Horst looked worse than I felt, which was pretty damned bad. His face was like chalk, his hair was standing on end, and he could hardly open his bloodshot eyes. He squinted out from behind the door and pulled his sister’s bathrobe tighter around his waist. It took a minute, but he finally recognized me. I thought he’d be more surprised.

“My goodness,” he said in a surprisingly chirpy way. “What is the time?”

“About two.”

“I see you’ve wakened earlier than me,” he grinned. “Come in. … Please.”

He led the way up to the apartment. “I feel as though my head has a hammer on the inside of it,” he said merrily. “We have really tied one up last night.”

“We sure did,” I agreed.

He didn’t even ask why I was there, just explained that his sister was at work and excused himself. “I must have a bath. Please sit down, feel yourself at home. … Would you like something to drink?”

“As long as it’s not schnapps,” I answered.

“Not even I would like one of these now,” he winced. He got me a Coke and disappeared into the bathroom.

I was so beat I could hardly think anymore. The sofa was tempting, but I knew if I lay down that would be the end. There was a telephone across the room and I thought it might be an idea to touch base with Powell. I didn’t want him to put out a shoot-to-kill order, if he hadn’t already done so, that is. After that, I’d have to deal with the leg, which was starting to swell up.

The operator connected me to BOB’s main number and I finally got through to Powell’s office. His secretary put him on the line right away.

“Can you imagine how deep in the shit you are, Teller? I’ll tell you. It’s creeping up around your ears and you’re about to suffocate in it.”

“Did you like the flowers?” I asked, forming a picture of that vein in his temple starting to quiver.

“Where the hell are you?”

“I had a nice meeting with our friend.” Silence while he thought about it.

“You had contact?”

“Yeah, we spent the whole morning together. … And guess what. He’s a big fish.”

“How big?”

“Somewhere between a tuna and a great white.”

“What?”

“Big enough that Washington is gonna be very proud of you.”

“You’d better come in, Jack. No shitting, this isn’t fun and games anymore.”

“Remind me which part
was
fun and games.”

“You know it’s not just me anymore, Jack,” he purred. “You’re fucking with everything now, and you know how that goes. They’ll crucify you.”

“Yeah, and you’ll be happy to provide the nails.”

“If you get your ass in here, I can help.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“You choose.” I was too tired for word games.

He sighed into the phone, then went silent again. I waited.

“Who is he?”

“I didn’t get a name.”

“What did he want?”

“I can’t say yet.”

“What do you mean, you can’t say?! Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to!”

“I need another day.”

“You can’t have another day! You can’t have another fucking minute!” He tried to get hold of himself. “Look, just come in for a debriefing. … If you’re worried about this morning, it’s forgotten. Just come in and let’s figure this out together.”

“When does Sam get in?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning. He’s flying in early, but—”

“I’ll see you then.” I replaced the receiver before he could say anything else. Clearly the call hadn’t done much to ease the situation, but at least I could say I’d checked in.

Horst was standing on the other side of the room rubbing his head with a towel. “I hope you don’t mind,” I said, pointing to the phone.

“Not at all,” he answered. I wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“Your leg is bleeding,” he added nonchalantly.

I told him about Bruno, leaving out the details, and he led me to the kitchen, made me sit while he rummaged through various cabinets and drawers. “I really have no idea where Hanna puts things,” he apologized. Finally pulling a wooden box out from behind some pots and pans, he opened it and found a bottle of iodine.

“Perhaps you should remove your trousers,” he suggested.

“I’ll just roll the leg up if you don’t mind,” I replied.

“I don’t wish to ruin them.”

“I think they’re pretty well shot already, Horst,” I pointed out, poking my finger through one of the holes that Bruno’s fangs had created.

“It can be repaired,” he assured me.

It wasn’t worth arguing, so I took my pants off and sat back down.

“You’d better prepare yourself,” he said. “I think it must hurt a little bit.”

I’m not sure if you can ever really prepare yourself for someone pouring a corrosive poison directly onto an open wound, but I sure as hell hadn’t. I screamed like a banshee, flew out of my chair, and hopped around the room peppering the air with arbitrary obscenities that I won’t try to re-create.

“My goodness,” was Horst’s reaction.

“What the hell are you doing?” I turned on him, grabbed the bottle of iodine out of his hand. “You don’t just pour it on! You use some of that cotton and gently DAB it on!”

He shrugged and pouted. “Perhaps it’s a good idea that you get an injection for rabies….”

“It’s a terrible idea, Horst! The worst fucking idea I’ve heard in a very long time! Jesus Christ, do you know how painful this is?!” It was stinging like a bastard.

“Perhaps you’ve changed your mind and want that schnapps now.”

I didn’t want a schnapps or anything else. I just wanted to lie down and shut my eyes. He started unwinding a roll of bandages.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s best to wrap your wound.”

“Forget it.”

“It won’t hurt.”

“You’re goddamn right it won’t because you’re not coming anywhere near it,” I said, being as clear as I could.

“I think it’s best—”

“It’s best to leave it open to the air.”

Her voice took us both by surprise. We swung around simultaneously and saw Hanna standing in the kitchen door frame, holding two paper bags full of groceries. She wore a thin cloth coat and a slightly faded blue dress with a creamy floral pattern and pale buttons up the front. A silk kerchief was tied loosely around her neck and her hair was pulled back behind her ear on one side while the other side fell softly across her cheek. She tilted her head and looked across at me.

“Hello again,” she smiled, her lips pursed in a gentle smirk. I guess I was a sight all right, standing there pantless with red dye running down my leg.

“Hello,” I smiled back.

“Jack has been attacked by a vicious dog,” Horst explained.

“Oh, dear,” she sighed in mock horror, placing the bags on the counter, then removing her coat. “How lucky then that you’ve found my brother. As you can see, he is a highly trained professional in these medical matters.”

“She takes the piss from me all the time,” Horst moaned. “I really don’t deserve it.”

“What do you deserve?” she scoffed.

He stepped forward and kissed her forehead, then turned to me. “You see, the problem is that my sister believes she is my mother.”

“The problem is that my brother is twenty-eight years old and still needs a mother.”

“Then you’ll cook a meal for us?” he grinned.

“I’m not sure you deserve
that
,” she muttered as she started putting groceries away.

“I suppose I should get dressed,” Horst allowed.

“Why not? The workday’s almost over.”

Horst winked at me and disappeared.

I grabbed my pants, started to pull them on, being as nonchalant about it as I could, which wasn’t very. She was arranging soup cans, trying not to notice.

“Leave them off,” she said, without looking over.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll sew them for you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

Then she gave me a long, hard look.

“What brings you to Berlin?”

“Business.”

“Ah.” She went back to the cans. She must have had a very complicated system for organizing them because she kept shuffling them around the cabinet, stepping back, then
making one last adjustment that apparently upset the whole arrangement, causing her to start all over again. She was a woman you wouldn’t give a second glance on the street. Attractive enough, but not a head turner. There was something about her, though, something I couldn’t really put my finger on. Compassion, but without weakness, is the best I can do.

“He’s a good kid,” I said, just to break the silence.

“He’s not really a kid,” she smiled. “He just acts like one.”

“There are worse things to act like.”

She closed the cupboard door and looked at me again. She had this way of looking directly at you that was a little disquieting. Like she was trying to get behind your eyes. Then she’d look away, do something like fold the grocery bags and place them in a drawer.