Hunter's Rain (20 page)

Then Josh was screaming.
“Aaaagh! Dad! Daaaad!”

“He can’t help you,” came the hard voice.

Jackson gripped his desk tightly, jaws clenched as he listened to his son’s cries of pain. Faintly, he could hear his wife screaming the boy’s name.

Then there was the sound of doors slamming, and of cars driving away.

Jackson waited, a fear in his heart. After a while, he thought he could hear, very faintly, a low whimpering. If Josh could still move, Jackson thought, the boy would go to the phone.

“And I’ll get them for it, son,” Jackson vowed. “I’ll get her back, and I’ll make them sorry they ever did this. Now you must be brave again. Can you tell me where you are?”

We…we were on our way to Würzburg. Mom was telling me –
again
– how special it is for the two of you…”

Despite himself, Jackson forced out a grim smile at the boy’s emphasis. “It is.”

“But she doesn’t have to tell me
all
the time.”

Jackson felt his eyes go hot at the sound of the child breaking through the boy who was trying to be brave.

“I know,” he said. “Grownups are like that sometimes. Never know when to stop. Now tell me…where exactly are you?”

“We’re on a different road than usual, because we’re coming from Werneck. The B19. I was playing my game, but looked out once. I saw a sign…”

“That was very brave of you; but you must promise me something: you
never
again go up against a man with a gun, with your bare hands. Do you hear?”

“But
you
would...”

CAFA Base was not a great distance from Werneck itself. The colonel, now in civilian clothes, slowly drove his black Audi four-door saloon towards the solid iron, sliding gates, which were open; but the barrier was down. Two smartly turned-out and armed military policemen, were on guard at the lowered barrier. A sentry hut was on each side of the entrance.

Approaching from the outside, a visitor would be greeted by a large sign with an attacking bald eagle carrying a rotary cannon in its claws emblazoned upon it; and beneath that, the legend:

WELCOME TO

COMBINED ATTACK FORCE ALPHA

Col. WILLIAM T. JACKSON Commanding

Beyond the barrier, was a long, low building to the right.

Jackson stopped the car. The policemen, on either side of the road at the entrance, had drawn themselves to attention, and were about to raise the barrier to let him through. A tall, black officer - a lieutenant, older than expected for the rank - came out of the building and approached the car.

Henderson, with a thoughtful expression, watched his boss depart. Then he went back into the building and into his office. He picked up his phone, and dialled the deputy commander, Lieutenant-Colonel John Dales.

“I know you two go back a long way, Cody, and if I knew, I’d tell you. All I can say is that he has ordered the Doc to wait for him at his home.”

It didn’t take Jackson long to find the Volvo.

The lights were still on, and the broken windows gaped like crystalline, eyeless sockets. Two cars were parked close by, and their occupants were trying to persuade Josh to come out. It was clear he had not let them come near him. Jackson pulled up behind the Volvo and got out.

“It’s okay,” he said to the people in German. “I’m his father. I’ll handle this. Thank you for trying to help.”

One of them, a man in his sixties, looked him up and down. “American?”

Jackson nodded as he opened one of the rear doors of the Volvo.

“There is blood on his face,” the man continued. “We tried to get him out to see what we could do, but he would not let us get near. He screamed each time. Someone has called the police, I think.”

“No need,” Jackson said. “I’ll take it from here.”

As soon as he put his head inside, Josh, bleeding from a strange wound on his forehead, flung his arms about him.

“Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad!” Josh repeated this over and over again, weeping

“But where is the driver?” he heard the man say.

Jackson did not reply. “It’s okay, son,” he said to Josh. “It’s okay. Dad’s here. Let’s look at that cut. I’ve brought field dressings. They’ll do till we get back and the Doc takes a look. Okay?”

The head nodded against him, smearing blood on his shirt.

“Okay. Now let’s have a look.”

Sensing the people were themselves crowding to look, Jackson glanced back and said, “Please. A little room.”

They moved back, but not very far.

“Alright, Josh. You’ve been very brave. Can you be brave just one more time?”

The boy again nodded, and raised his head for Jackson to have a look. “He just wouldn’t stop cutting me! He wouldn’t stop!”

“It’s okay, Josh. It’s okay. I’m going to clean it now, then bandage it. Be brave. Okay?”

“Okay,” the boy whimpered.

Jackson cleaned the wound as gently as he could, then stared. “Oh my God,” he said quietly, a great anger rising within him. “Bastards,” he muttered under his breath.

A perfect, tiny swastika had been carved upon the boy’s forehead.

Jackson bandaged it quickly, so that the people around the car would not have a chance to see it. Then he got Josh out of the Volvo, carrying him in his arms.

The people gasped when the saw the smeared blood on Jackson’s shirt.

“Is he badly hurt?” the same man asked.

“A small cut,” Jackson said, hiding his anger at the men who had done this. “It bled a lot. He’ll be fine. Thank you again.”

“We tried to help.”

“I know. He was just scared.”

“But the police…”

“Will be informed.”

Jackson quickly went back to his car, put Josh in the back, and secured his seatbelt. Then he got in behind the wheel and drove off, wanting to be well away from there, before the police put in an appearance.

Wannsee.

The dog had become excited about something it had found. It was pivoting about a spot just in front of its nose, and making snuffling sounds punctuated by short barks that had a definite come-and-see-what-I’ve-found command about them.

“Max!” the handler called. “Gigi’s found something!” To the dog, she added, “Good girl. Good girl!”

The dog answered with a high-pitched whine of acknowledgement, and continued its pivoting.

Gatto hurried to the spot, which was some distance from the destroyed boathouse.

“What is it?” he asked as he arrived.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking down at a small tuft of grass in Vogel’s unkempt garden. “I can’t see anything.”

“Okay, Trudi,” Gatto said. “Call her off. I’ll have a look.”

“Alright, Gigi,” Trudi Lohtal said to the dog. She gave the lead a gentle pull.

The dog stopped instantly, gave another little whine, and squatted.

Gatto took a measuring glance at the ruin of the boathouse from where he now stood. “If it came from there, that was quite a flight.”

He got to his knees, and began to search with a cautious hand through the tuft of grass. After a while, the hand came up against something small that was hard, and cold to the touch.

He pulled it out, and stared at it as he got to his feet. It just about covered the length of his palm, and was a gleaming black. There were a few spots of the tiniest of scorch marks but apart from those, the object was virtually intact. On one side, a strange design was embedded within.

“It looks like a knife without a blade,” he remarked thoughtfully.

As he was probing it with exploratory fingers, a section was depressed, and a gleaming blade shot out with a soft, metallic hiss.

The startled Gatto swore. “Shit! That nearly pierced my finger! A retractable dagger. Sharp as hell. Nice toy,” he added with grim disgust.

The dog quietened down once more, and went back to its squatting. It looked from Gatto to Lohtal, as if wanting to join in the conversation, before lowering its head onto its front paws.

“This looks like a very special dagger,” Trudi Lohtal said. “Would someone not search for it if they dropped it?”

“If one of them did drop it, he probably hasn’t realised it as yet. He might have put it down after cutting something, and in a hurry to get away before we got here, probably thought he had put it back into his pocket. It happens. This could be a piece of luck for us. If it helps us get the bastards who killed Paul, I’ll be a very happy man.”

He stooped to pat the dog. “Well done, Gigi.”

The dog made a sound that could have easily been interpreted as you’re welcome.

Gatto called Pappenheim. “We’ve got something.”

“Ah! What is it?”

“It’s a sort of…knife,” Gatto said, uncertain about the object. “More like a dagger. Retractable. Black handle. The blade looks made of strong metal. Probably titanium. Gigi found it. She went crazy.”

“Traces?”

“Could be. But before full lab tests, hard to tell what exactly; but we’ll do a preliminary with the sensors. They will at least confirm explosive material, if any. Gigi definitely picked up something. And one other thing…it’s got a strange design on the handle. More like
inside
the handle…”

“What’s the design look like? On second thoughts,” Pappenheim went on quickly, “don’t tell me. Just bring it directly to me when you get back.
No
one else. To me.”

Clearly puzzled, Gatto said, “I will.”

“I can’t explain, Max.”

“No need to,” Gatto said. “I’ll hang on to it until I see you.”

CAFA Base, near Schweinfurt.

At about roughly the same time, one of the military police guards spotted Jackson’s Audi returning. The guard went into his sentry box, picked up the phone, and called Henderson.

“The colonel’s returning, sir.”

“On my way,” Henderson said.

“Yes, sir.”

The guard replaced the receiver just as the Audi turned the corner to enter the short straight to the barrier, which his opposite number was getting ready to raise.

As the car drew closer, both guards snapped their salutes, and the barrier began to rise. The guard who had phoned Henderson leaned forward slightly, eyes popping when he saw the bandaged Josh in the back.

Jackson’s hand snapped towards his right temple in brief response, then the Audi was through.

“What the fuck?” the gate guard said to himself as the barrier was again lowered. He looked at his colleague. “Did you see that?” he asked in a loud whisper.

The other nodded, but said nothing as he saw Henderson getting ready to meet the car.

But the car did not stop.

They saw Jackson’s hand again rise in its brief answering salute to Henderson, then the Audi sped away at the sort of speed normally reserved for emergency situations on the base, which had a normal blanket speed limit of 20mph.