The Russian Deception (13 page)

CHAPTER 28

Gutenberg sat in his darkened room, brooding over the failure in Vienna. It would have been good to start with the woman, a cruel blow to the heart of the team leader, Carter. He had anticipated the reaction when a tape of Selena's horrible death reached her husband. Now that pleasure would have to be postponed.

There would be other opportunities. Perhaps he was being too selective, too caught up in the psychological game of mental punishment. Perhaps it would be better to simply eliminate them all in the most efficient way possible. He knew where they were. He had someone observing them at all times. Wherever they went in the world, whatever they did, Harker's team could not escape.

He'd thought the man he'd hired for the Vienna business was the best choice for what needed to be done. That had been a mistake. He didn't like making mistakes but a mistake was always an opportunity for a correction, for discovering a new way to solve a problem. Solving problems was one of the few joys left to him in his ruined body.

He hadn't been looking at the problem objectively and that had been the mistake. The recognition felt like a revelation. He'd been unable to keep his emotions separate from the need to form a clear plan. His rage had gotten in the way.

That wouldn't happen in the future. In the meantime, he would have to do something about the contractor who had failed him. He was a weak link, a man who had proved unreliable. Weak links could not be tolerated. He knew someone in Hamburg who could take care of that. It could be arranged with a simple phone call. Eliminating Carter and his team required a different kind of expert.

Gutenberg possessed a list of contract killers and terrorists that would be the envy of any intelligence agency, a list Interpol would give anything for. He toggled a lever on the side of his wheelchair and rolled over to his computer. He entered an encrypted password and looked at the file that came up on the screen.

Each file described the contact's strengths and weaknesses along with his or her specialty. Each noted the particular way the contact was to be approached. If there was a phone number to call, it was listed. If there was a person to talk with as an intermediary, their information was listed as well.

Whom should I choose
?

It was a delicious decision.

There were twenty-seven names on the list. The contractors came from all over the world. Gutenberg considered his options, reviewing each entry. After an hour he had decided.

Dupree. The Frenchman.

Dupree was a psychopath who lacked any trace of empathy or compassion, a classic narcissist
who prided himself on never having failed in a mission. He was perfect for a job like this. Next to Dupree's name was a contact number for a man named Berger. Gutenberg had used him before. The man knew him as Pieter and thought he was in Johannesburg. Gutenberg made the call.

"Yes."

"This is Pieter. I need you to arrange a connection."

"For the usual fee?"

"Of course."

"Who do you want to talk to?"

"Jaques Dupree. I want to speak with him as soon as possible."

"Ah, Dupree. This man can be quite expensive. Are you sure? I know someone who is very good and will cost half as much."

"I can have someone else call him," Gutenberg said.

"No, no, I can reach him. I was only trying to help."

"How long?"

"It's uncertain."

Gutenberg gave him a phone number. "Tell him he will be well paid."

"Dupree is picky about who he works with," Berger said.

"Then you had better convince him to contact me."

Gutenberg ended the call. Forty minutes later his phone signaled a call.

"This is Pieter."

"Our mutual friend tells me that you are a serious man. Is this line secure?"

"It is."

"My fee for talking to you is fifty thousand euros. I make no guarantee to accept the assignment. If I do, the money will be applied to your account. Are you agreeable?"

"That is acceptable," Gutenberg said.

"Transfer the funds within the next hour. Write down these numbers." Gutenberg recognized the routing number for a bank in the Caymans. "I will call you back when the money is in the account."

"Agreed."

Dupree hung up.

It took less than fifteen minutes to move fifty thousand euros into Dupree's account. Dupree called back.

"Tell me what it is you want me to do."

"There are four people who have caused me considerable harm. They work for an American intelligence agency. They are interfering in my plans."

"And you wish me to stop them from interfering?"

"Precisely."

"Am I to assume that you want all of them removed?"

"Yes. I would recommend that they all be dealt with at the same time."

"You are talking about a difficult target," Dupree said.

"I'll make it worth your while."

"The risk is high."

"I said I'd make it worth your while."

Dupree considered. Taking on professionals was a challenge. Dupree liked challenges.

"One million euros," he said. "One half now and one half when the job is done. I need detailed information on the targets."

"Understood. If you can find a way to make their exit long and painful, I will pay you a bonus of another half million euros. Of course I would need visual proof. A videotape, perhaps."

Dupree thought.
A man who seeks such an end for his enemies is seeking revenge. I could've asked for more.

"I'll see what I can arrange. Is collateral damage a concern?"

"No."

"When will you transfer the money?"

"As soon as we finish talking."

"You have pictures?"

"I do."

"Where are the subjects now?"

"Vienna."

"I need the pictures and as much information as you can give me. Without pictures I cannot be sure of the targets. Send everything to this address."

Dupree recited an email address.

"Can I reach you through this account?" Gutenberg asked.

"No. This will only be good for one message."

"How will I know when the job is complete?"

"Trust me," Dupree said, "you'll know."

Dupree ended the call. He
was thirty-eight years old and thinking of retiring. It had been a good run over the past few years but it was only a matter of time before Interpol or someone else caught up with him. With that much money he could disappear.

One final assignment. He would make it a masterpiece, something that would be talked about for years.

After Dupree hung up Gutenberg entered new commands on his keyboard and accessed a French satellite hovering over Western Russia. He would've preferred the higher resolution of the American satellites but they had excellent cyber security and almost impenetrable protection. The French were not so far advanced and Gutenberg was able to utilize their surveillance satellites with little difficulty. The program had been developed before the attack on his château and had proved useful many times in the past.

He watched the Russian troops and equipment moving through the western part of the Federation. He would have smiled, except that the scarring on his face made it impossible.

Soon, he would have his vengeance against all of them.

CHAPTER 29

The next morning everyone met in Nick and Selena's room.

"I talked to Harker a little while ago," Nick said. "We're going after whoever sent those people."

"We have to find him first," Ronnie said.

"Could be a woman," Lamont said.

"You think a woman would send someone after Selena with a chainsaw?" Ronnie asked.

"Why not?"

"A chainsaw is a guy thing."

"Hey, haven't you heard about gender equality?"

Ronnie started to say something and then just shook his head.

Nick said, "You guys about done? I transmitted a scan of the passports we found to Virginia last night. Steph sent something back."

"What did she find out?" Selena asked.

"The guy with the chainsaw was from Hamburg
.
He was part of a German crime syndicate that operates out of there, something like the Mafia. A true psychopath, according to Interpol. His nickname was The Butcher. That chainsaw was his trademark."

"Sounds like a real winner," Lamont said.

"The other guy was German too, the leader. His specialty was making people talk. He liked to use a blowtorch. The other two were foot soldiers, low-level. Also part of the syndicate."

"A contract hit," Ronnie said.

"Has to be. There's no reason the German Mafia would come after us. Someone hired them. We'll go to Hamburg and find out who."

"Where do we start?"

Nick held up a piece of paper. "Steph sent along the address of the big boss who runs their operation. His name is Helmut Schmidt. Why don't we pay Herr Schmidt a visit and ask him to tell us?"

"And if he won't cooperate?" Selena asked.

"Then we make him an offer he can't refuse," Nick said.

Lamont stifled a laugh.

"He'll have serious protection," Ronnie said. "We need more information."

"I asked Steph for satellite shots of his house and any background info she can get. All we need is a laptop. She's going to feed surveillance to us so we can check out the security and the layout, in case we want to go after him there. Once we know more about him we can decide how to go about it."

"We need weapons," Lamont said.

"We'll pick them up at the consulate in Hamburg. Harker is arranging it. We'll drive there from here. I thought we'd turn in the car for something better, something with more power and speed."

"A Mercedes," Selena said. "It's what the autobahns were built for."

"You get to pick one you like," Nick said, "as long as it's black."

"You and Henry Ford." Selena smiled. "I know just the right model."

"First order of business is to pick up a laptop."

"That's easy," Selena said. "There's a store right down the block that's got everything we need."

An hour later they were back in the room and the laptop was up and running. The transmission was being routed through Nick's secure satellite phone. Stephanie came on screen.

"Hi, guys. Selena, are you okay?"

"Hi, Steph. I'm fine."

Selena almost asked Steph how she was doing but stopped yourself in time. She already knew how. Steph was struggling with the aftermath of losing her baby.

"I'm sending a satellite video of the target, taken two hours ago. Also a file with information about Schmidt. It might take a minute or two to come through."

Nick waited while the files downloaded onto the computer.

Stephanie continued. "Schmidt's house is right on the Elbe River. It's quite a spread and very private. I saw guards moving about. There's a high wall surrounding the property, as you'll see."

"There's always a wall," Lamont said.

"Elizabeth wants to talk with you."

"Thanks, Steph."

Elizabeth's face filled the screen.

"Nick, you need to be careful on this one. Relations with Germany are difficult at the moment. An incident involving Americans would go down badly with the president. Schmidt is protected."

"What do you mean, protected?"

"To all outward appearances he's a wealthy and successful businessman. He has a shipping firm that provides a lot of jobs at the port. As far as the public is concerned he's a philanthropist and a good citizen, a pillar of society. He has influence with the police and political protection."

"Wonderful. That doesn't change the fact that he's the German equivalent of the Godfather. The kind of guy who sends someone with a chainsaw to cut up a woman."

"Whatever you do, you mustn't get caught."

"We just want to talk with him," Nick said.

"Things tend to get noisy when you talk to people," Elizabeth said. "If your conversation turns out that way, make sure there's no way to trace it back to you."

"Understood, Director. What about our weapons?"

"They'll be waiting for you in Hamburg. Just remember what I said. Aside from that, go get the bastard."

Harker broke the connection.

"Sounds like she's taking the attack personally," Ronnie said.

"Kinda gives you a warm feeling, doesn't it?" Lamont said.

Nick pointed at the laptop. "Let's take a look at the satellite footage."

They watched the video play through. At the end, Nick brought it back to a broad view of Schmidt's compound and froze the picture.

"Déjà vu all over again," said Lamont. "Like I said, there's always a wall. I'm getting damn tired of razor wire and sharp glass and all of that, just to get inside some asshole's compound so the dogs can attack. Not to mention the guards."

Men in civilian clothes could be seen walking around the property. A marked police car was parked near the main entrance to Schmidt's estate. A man in police uniform stood near the gate smoking a cigarette and talking with one of the guards.

"Cops," Ronnie said. "Probably on a regular rotation to keep an eye on things."

"Looks like he's got all the bells and whistles," Ronnie said. He pointed at the screen. "Cameras, dogs, and guards posted around the grounds. Probably laser sensors and night vision, too."

"Herr Schmidt is a little paranoid," Nick said.

"Goes with the territory."

"There's no possibility of getting in there unnoticed," Ronnie said. "The guards will be armed. The cops would be on us in minutes."

Lamont nodded agreement.

Selena brushed a strand of hair way from her forehead. "There has to be a way to get to him."

"We'll find a way," Nick said. "Herr Schmidt is going to regret messing with you."