The Eagle's Covenant (14 page)

Joanna needed to confide in someone. A man or woman she could trust. But there was nobody in her life she knew who could help her with whatever choice she made. She could tell Hoffman, show him the files. But how long before it reached the ears of the press? And wasn’t Hoffman a policeman whose career was determined by results? A coup like this for him would elevate him to something like a national figure, but the publicity would kill Manfred Schiller. And at the very least, it would still not guarantee the return of her beloved son.

Joanna could only see one solution at the moment: let the police know she believed she knew the identity of the kidnapper. If they could arrest this Breggie de Kok and find her son, there would be no need to reveal any of her dead husband’s involvement in covert Volkspartei matters. The details of their schemes could be fed to the police as ‘leaks’ which would effectively stop the party in its tracks. Molke would never be elected to a position of power. And, as a result of that, Hansi’s father need never know of his son’s traitorous games.

She picked up the phone beside her bed and asked the operator to put her through to Herr Doktor Aaron Kistler, President of the North Rhine Westphalia Police at his Bonn office. And, yes, she told the operator, she would be happy to wait.

*

Conor had grabbed a good night’s sleep and was feeling quite chirpy despite having bumped into Frau Lindbergh that morning. She had asked him if he wanted her to cook for him, or take care of his laundry. No extra charge of course. Conor had thanked her politely and waved the offer. The last thing he wanted was Frau Lindbergh getting her feet under his table. He had made an unconscious note to find other accommodation just as soon as it was convenient. No more than a couple of days he hoped.

He was back at Oscar’s house. Before going in he had waited outside for well over an hour observing the place. There had been no callers nor had there been any movement from inside. Now he was inside and sitting at Oscar’s desk waiting for the phone call he was convinced would come. When it did, it was on Oscar’s mobile phone.

“You did not answer your phone yesterday.” The voice was fairly lightweight and a little husky.

“Oscar is dead,” he told the voice. There was no immediate reply. Conor could hear the man breathing. He gave the code word.

“Who are you?”

“John Buck,” he lied. “Jurgen’s dead too.” This time he heard the little explosion of breath. “They’re in Jurgen’s flat.”

The breathing became controlled again. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. I was supposed to go on a job with Oscar and Jurgen. I had to meet them at Jurgen’s flat. They were both dead.”

“How did they die?”

“They were shot. I didn’t know what to do. I took Oscar’s phone because I knew you would contact him.”

Conor found it remarkably easy to lie and invent a foundation for his imaginary involvement with Oscar.

“Who are you?”

“I told you. I’m John Buck.”

“You are not German.”

“No, I’m an American. I came over with Karl Trucco. We were part of Oscar’s team.”

“Have you seen Trucco?” the voice asked.

Conor shook his head unnecessarily. “No. He was on some job couple of days ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

He was gambling on the chance that Oscar chose his own cell members. Security within the organisation would demand it. But he couldn’t be sure that Oscar was involved in any way with the kidnap. The team assembled for that was a bit special. He hoped the voice would not be too closely informed of who was actually on the kidnap team.

“What was the job you were supposed to be going on with Oscar and Jurgen?” the voice asked.

Conor shrugged. “Not sure. Think we were going to waste some guy. Oscar told us to be tooled up. Why?”

The question did not get answered. “And you have no idea who or why Oscar and Jurgen were killed?”

Conor heard a phone ring somewhere in the background. He sensed rather than heard the voice move as his caller lifted the other phone. A movement and sound like the mouthpiece being covered was quite clear. Conor decided the voice was answering another phone. After a lengthy silence, Conor realised the voice was still waiting for an answer to the question.

“No, I don’t know why they were killed. It’s like I said, I just found them.” He paused, waiting for a reaction. It didn’t come. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Do?” The voice sounded surprised. “What do you mean? What can you do other than keep well clear of poor Oscar and Jurgen?”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” Conor affected a little urgency in his voice. “I was working for Oscar. He’s dead and you’re his boss, so I’m working for you now, right?”

“In your dreams, Mister Buck.”

Conor was afraid he would be cut off. The trail would be dead. “Wait! Can we meet? I need an angle, something. Oscar was my pay check.”

“Correction; Oscar was your pay check. Goodbye, Mister Buck.”

The phone went dead.

Conor automatically moved his head away from the phone and looked at it. Then he put it back against his ear. It made no difference; the phone was no longer connected to the voice. He put the phone back on the desk.

At that moment, Conor heard a sound. It was a small, intrusive sound that was out of place in the undisturbed silence in the room. Only the distant, muffled noise of occasional traffic passing the house could be heard in the room. To Conor’s well- tuned instincts, it was a warning. And as he moved to rise from the chair he saw a movement on the extreme periphery of his vision. He ducked forward and pushed himself away from the movement, but he was too late. He felt the blow strike him on the side of the head and immediately everything went black. He was aware of the impact as his body hit the floor and then he lost consciousness.

*

Joseph had kept his word and contacted his controller. He arrived that afternoon with a doctor. Breggie came down from the bedroom where she had been struggling with the baby. Mercifully the little soul was finally asleep. Joseph did not introduce the doctor to Breggie. All three of them knew what the score was and expected nothing less.

“Where’s the infant?” the doctor asked.

Breggie took him upstairs. Joseph remained downstairs; his part of the job done. The doctor examined little Manny very carefully. Fortunately the boy did not wake.

“Tell me as much as you can about his condition,” the doctor asked Breggie.

She told him everything, including the affect it was having on her. The doctor listened without interruption. When she had finished, he pulled out a prescription pad and began writing.

“First of all I have to tell you that the baby is quite ill. But I think you know that.” Breggie nodded. “And he should be in a hospital, but you know that too.” Breggie nodded again. The doctor went on. “Because I am aware of the circumstances, I will have to treat the baby now. However, I cannot return here because of the distance I have to travel. If his condition has not improved in two days he will have to go into hospital.”

He opened his bag and brought out a pre-packed syringe together with a phial. “I am going to give the baby an injection which should help. Then I’ll write out a prescription for him.”

He injected the contents of the syringe into the baby’s arm and put the empty syringe on a table and told Breggie to dispose of it. Then he opened a prescription pad and began writing.

When he had finished, he looked up. There was no expression in his face.

“Don’t forget, if his condition has not improved in two days, he must be admitted to a hospital.” He closed his bag. “Or he will die.”

Breggie took the prescription from him. “He must not die.”

The doctor gave her a peculiar look. “That, I’m afraid, is in the hands of God.” He pointed to the prescription. “And by the way, don’t get that at a local pharmacy, go to a big store.”

Naturally, Breggie was curious. “Why?” she asked.

He stood up, ready to leave. “Local drug stores get used to handling prescriptions from local doctors. Better to have it filled out by the bigger store.”

The doctor had a coffee before he left. Breggie felt a little easier now the baby had been seen by him. She hoped she wouldn’t have to send for him again. It had taken four hours by the time Joseph had picked him up and brought him to the house. Two hours each way.

She was in the kitchen thinking about preparing an evening meal when it hit her like a bomb: it was late afternoon and Joseph would not be back until late evening. If she wanted the prescription filled out at a big drug store, she could not wait for Joseph to return. She would have to go herself.

She swore out loud and leaned back against a cabinet, tossing her head back in disgust. She had to have the medicine today. If she waited for Joseph he would have to find an emergency chemist. It would be a local and that would be against the doctor’s express wishes. There was nothing else for it but to go herself. And that meant taking the baby.

Breggie’s dilemma now was that she had no real option but to drive to the shopping mall she had visited with such disastrous results if she wanted the medicine before the shops closed. She wasn’t too happy about showing herself and the baby at the store because of her cock and bull story about visiting from the south. The nosey pharmacist might ask awkward questions again.

In the end Breggie knew she had little choice but to worry about getting her priorities right. There was only one and that was the baby. He needed that medicine. She went upstairs and lifted the infant out of his cot, wrapped him up well and put him in a chair while she manhandled the collapsible pushchair into the car. She then piled her hair up on top of her head and wrapped a headscarf round the blonde locks. With a fairly nondescript coat on, Breggie figured she wouldn’t draw too much attention to herself.

Before leaving the house, Breggie put a bottle of milk in the pushchair and crossed her fingers she could it make to the drug store and back without little Manny waking. She gunned the Volkswagen into life and headed for the centre of the town.

Much of the precinct was emptying now which made Breggie feel more exposed. That heightened sense of exposure unleashed little demons inside her and she could feel thousands of eyes upon her. In reality of course, no such thing was happening. Breggie was simply another shopper.

She approached the supermarket drug store attempting to relax and act normally. Her efforts probably made her more abnormal than ever, but she was not aware of it. The dispensing counter appeared like an obstacle to be overcome, looming large in her waking nightmare. There was no sign of the nosey pharmacist which gave her much cause for relief.

She put the brake on the pushchair, praying that the baby would not wake. All she needed was two or three minutes and she would be out of there. Little Manny could scream his head off then. An assistant took the prescription from her and passed it through to the pharmacists working behind screens at one end of the long counter.

Breggie tried to act casual but her head flitted from one object to another. Her movements were spasmodic, affected almost. She could feel her pulse rate rising. People stared at her. Or did they? God, she thought, get on with it. Get that bloody prescription filled!

The assistant returned, took payment for the medicine and handed it across the counter. Breggie thanked her and left. She had only taken two steps when she realised she had left the pushchair. She went back, grabbed the pushchair and practically ran from the store.

The assistant watched her go, and then went back to the dispensary where she spoke to the chemist who had just filled the prescription.

“Remember that South African woman who was in here a couple of days ago?” she asked.

The chemist thought for a moment. “Oh yes, had a problem with her baby.”

“That’s right. Well, she was just in. That prescription you filled; that was hers.”

The woman stopped what she was doing and went to the clip of prescriptions she had hanging beneath a label with her name. She took it down and studied it. After a while she handed it to the girl.

“Look, see if you can decipher that doctor’s signature. Then check it against the list of local practitioners.” She looked up. “She said she was up from the south for a day.” Then she shrugged. “Check it anyway. I’m curious.”

The girl, happy to be relieved of counter duty for a while, departed quickly and the chemist went back to making up medicines. Meanwhile, Breggie was climbing into her car thanking her lucky stars that the baby was still asleep. Soon she would be back at the house and everything would be fine. Panic over             

*

Conor woke in darkness. He could feel the blindfold tight around his eyes and an unyielding hardness beneath him. His hands had been tied behind his back. He listened for some time before attempting any movement. If he heard a breath, a cough or voices, it would mean he wasn’t alone. If there was someone there with him, he wanted them to believe he was still unconscious. He mentally ran the rule over his body but, apart from a pain on the side of his head where he had been coshed, there didn’t appear to be any other damage.

Conor thought back to the phone conversation he had with the Dutchman. Whatever he may have thought and however he had planned to tackle the man, he had seriously underestimated him. The Dutchman knew who he was talking to. At least, Conor presumed that. But how had he latched on so quickly? He remembered hearing the phone ring and the Dutchman answering it. Perhaps that was the call to tell the Dutchman where Conor was phoning from. A line trace perhaps? Would the organisation have that kind of power?