McBride said, “Alone?”
“Of course alone! Do you really expect me to believe you give a damn about Amelia?”
Tanner stepped closer to Root and stared into his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“But Langley—”
“Langley thinks her life is a small price to pay to keep Kestrel safe,” Tanner finished. “And the truth is, all our lives are a small price to pay, but we’re not there yet. I think we can keep Kestrel safe and get your wife back.”
“How?”
“First, give me your word you won’t run again. It’s either that or I tie you to a chair.”
Root exhaled, then chuckled. “Damned if you wouldn’t do it, too. You have my word.” He sat down on the bed. “What’s your plan?”
“A good offense,” Tanner replied, then began explaining.
36
Innsbruck
At seven-fifteen, Tanner left McBride with Root and returned to the Best Western. Cahil and Oliver were waiting. A pile of clothes lay on the bed; on the floor were four shopping bags, three from a local hardware store, one from an auto parts store. Briggs could see a length of radiator hose jutting from one of the bags.
“The clothes are secondhand,” Cahil said. “All local and well worn. Except mine; I’ll be the best dressed sicherheitsbeamte in town.”
“Been practicing again, I see. What about the hardware?”
“Not as good as guns, but I think I can come up with something.”
Tanner nodded. Improvised weapons would have to do. Besides, he reminded himself, if they found themselves in a firefight with Svetic’s men, they would have already lost. Amelia Root would be the first casualty.
Oliver cleared his throat. “I have a question.”
Tanner turned to him. “Yes?”
“What’s my part in this circus and how many years in prison will it cost me?”
Tanner smiled. “As for the second question, none if we do it right.”
“And the first?”
“That depends. How do you feel about being a getaway driver?”
“Nervous.”
“Good,” Cahil said, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Shows you’re thinking.”
“Let’s get moving,” Tanner said. “We’ve got an hour.”
If for Tanner the Tirolean landscape epitomized the word “alpine”, Ambras Castle epitomized Bavarian grandeur, with towering, whitewashed stone walls, heavy beam shutters and buttresses, and a pitched slate roof lined with parapets. Having been the home to Archduke Ferdinand II in the 1500s, Ambras Castle was now one of Tirol’s most famous museums, housing a vast collection of medieval weaponry and armor.
Tanner had chosen Ambras as the meeting location for three reasons. First, it was on the outskirts of the city, and second, the castle’s last tour was at 4:30, both of which reasons increased their chances of privacy. Lastly, the castle grounds were heavily wooded, offering plenty of concealment. Of course, that could work both ways, Tanner realized, as Litzman’s contact could station his own watchers around the meeting site.
There were too many variables for comfort. But then again, Tanner reminded himself, that was more often the rule than the exception. There was always the chance their facsimile of Litzman’s voice had been unconvincing, prompting Svetic’s man to call Litzman directly.
They could be walking into a trap.
Tanner was in place forty minutes before the meeting, having left his taxi a quarter mile away on Aldranser Strasse and then crossed the southeast comer of the castle grounds, where he picked his way through the woods behind the castle until certain there were no watchers about. He found a suitable spot at the southwest corner of the castle and settled down to wait.
Lying in the undergrowth, he had a clear view of the front steps and the U-shaped turnaround that connected them to the Schlossstrasse, the castle’s private entrance road. When the time came, he would have a ten-second run to the steps.
Miniature streetlights lined the drive, casting yellow pools of light on the sidewalk. The castle itself was dark, a towering shadow rising into the night sky. Crickets chirped in the grass. Across the lawn, a firefly winked.
Tanner felt his sat phone buzz. He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece. “Yes.”
“Oliver. I’m in place.”
Tanner craned his neck and parted the branches until he could see down the Schlossstrasse. “Show me your parking lights,” he whispered.
He saw the minivan’s orange lights wink on, then off. Oliver had chosen a good spot, having tucked the Hyundai behind the groundskeeper’s hut. Whether the contact came on foot or by car, it was unlikely he’d spot the van.
“Perfect, Collin,” Briggs said. “Did you have a look around?”
“Yeah. I didn’t see anyone. Where are you?” Tanner clicked on his red-lensed penlight and aimed it at the Hyundai. “I’ve got you,” Oliver said.
“When you see me move, count twelve, then come,” Tanner said.
“Right.”
Tanner disconnected, then dialed Cahil, who answered on the first ring. “I’m ready,” Bear said. “I timed the walk. Sixty seconds to the steps.”
“Good. Can you whistle in German?”
“No, but I can hum a polka.”
“I’ll page you when it’s time.”
He disconnected and returned his gaze to the steps. He checked his watch: twenty minutes to go.
At 9:20, Tanner’s SAT phone vibrated. It was Cahiclass="underline" “A taxi just passed me, should be coming your way.”
Thirty seconds later the taxi appeared, turned off the Schlossstrasse and into the turnaround. As it passed, Tanner could see a lone figure sitting in the backseat. The taxi slowed beside the steps, its brake lights flashing red, then continued on to the end of the turnaround, where it turned out and disappeared back down Schlossstrasse.
Tanner dialed Cahil. “Coming your way.”
“I see him. The taxi’s stopping … Somebody’s getting out … one person, white male. Stand by.” There were ten seconds of silence, then, “He’s walking back your way. Two minutes if he keeps going.”
Tanner disconnected and wriggled a little deeper into the underbrush.
Ninety seconds passed. A lone figure appeared walking down the Schlossstrasse, turned into the turnaround, and headed toward the castle’s steps. The man paused at the bottom step, looked left, then right, then shoved his hands in his pockets and began pacing.
Tanner text-paged Cahiclass="underline" Go.
Cahil’s timing was dead-on. Forty seconds after the signal, a flashlight beam appeared down the Schlossstrasse. Tanner could hear Bear humming faintly as he walked. He turned onto the driveway, his flashlight playing over the grass, keys jangling on his belt. In black pants, a crisp white shirt, black tie, and a homemade laminated ID card clipped to his pocket, Cahil looked every bit the castle’s sicherheitsbeamte, or security man. Whether or not Litzman’s contact knew there was no such thing, they would soon find out.
Tanner kept his eyes on the man, who had spotted Cahil and was showing signs of agitation: He glanced at his watch, looked around. Sensing the change in his demeanor, Bear called out a friendly “Guten abend, herr!”
The man hesitated, then replied, “Guten abend.”
“Anything I can help you with?” Cahil said in well-rehearsed German.
The man shrugged, then said, “Kein German.”
“Ah … English perhaps? Is there anything I can help you with?”
“No, thank you. I’m waiting for a friend.”
“Very good, sir.” Cahil said. “I’ll just check these doors and be on my way. Duty calls, of course. Have a nice night.”