“Sure. You, too.”
Cahil put two fingers to his brow in salute, then turned and started climbing up the steps.
Tanner got up, slipped out of the underbrush, and began sprinting on the balls of his feet toward the man, who, as expected, was watching Cahil. Bear reached the top of the steps, jiggled both door latches, then turned and started back down.
Tanner kept coming. Thirty feet … twenty … He pulled the improvised sap — a length of sand-filled radiator hose — from his jacket pocket.
Cahil called to the man, “Sure I can’t call you a taxi?”
The man turned to face him. “No, thank you.”
When Tanner was ten feet away, Cahil shined the flashlight in the man’s eyes.
“Hey, watch that! What are you—”
“You don’t look well,” Cahil said. “Perhaps you—”
And then Tanner was on the man, sap coming up and around and slamming into the base of his skull. He let out a groaning umph, then collapsed into Cahil’s arms. Tanner tucked the sap back into his jacket pocket, and together he and Cahil walked him to the curb.
Headlights off, the Hyundai raced out of the darkness, pulled into the turnaround, and stopped beside them. The side door was already open. They hefted the man inside, climbed in behind him, slammed the door shut.
“Go,” Tanner ordered.
The entrance to A31 autobahn was less than a mile away. Five minutes later they were outside the city limits and heading south. After a few minutes’ driving, Oliver took the Villerberg exit, turned right at the bottom of the ramp, and pulled into the rest stop they’d chosen earlier.
As expected, it was all but deserted, with only two other vehicles visible in the lot. Oliver drove to the far end and pulled into a spot marked, “Ubernachtung Parkplatz”—Overnight Parking. He turned off the lights and turned around. He stared at the unconscious man on the floor — who was now bound and gagged with duct tape — and said, “Christ, tell me he’s not dead.”
“He’s not dead,” Tanner said.
“You guys were pretty slick back there. Why do I get the feeling this isn’t your first kidnapping?”
“Such an ugly word,” Cahil said.
“Does he have anything on him?” Oliver asked.
“Just a passport,” Tanner said. “His name is Izet Grebo, from Sarajevo — probably an alias — and this.” Briggs held up a compact semiautomatic pistol.
“I don’t recognize it,” Oliver said.
“Sig Sauer P239.”
“He’s coming around,” Cahil said.
The man groaned into the duct tape, then his eyes flickered open. He focused on Tanner, then Cahil, then blinked a few more times. He began struggling. Tanner placed a hand on his chest. “Save your strength,” he said. “I’m going to take the tape off your mouth. Please don’t scream. I’ll only ask once. Do you understand?”
The man nodded.
Tanner peeled the tape off his mouth. “We want to ask you some questions. Answer them and everything will turn out fine. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the man rasped. “What do you want with me? Why have you—”
“According to your passport your name is Izet Grebo.”
“That’s right. Who are you?”
Tanner glanced at Cahil with a mock puzzled expression. Cahil shrugged. Tanner said to the man, “You have no idea who we are?”
“No.”
“The woman you kidnapped — do you know who she is?”
“What woman? I don’t—”
Tanner held up his hand, silencing Grebo. “It would be best if you didn’t lie. Two weeks ago you kidnapped a woman in the United States. Four security guards were killed. You were involved; we know that. Whether you end up dead or alive and free is up to you. Yes or no: You were part of the team.”
The man hesitated, then nodded. “I was there, but I didn’t—”
“Is she still alive?”
“Yes.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Earlier this evening….”
“Did your boss tell you who she is?”
“No.”
Again Tanner glanced at Cahil, who shook his head and chuckled. “Amazing.”
“What?” said Grebo. “What’s amazing?”
“The woman you kidnapped is the wife of a former director of the CIA. Does that give you some clue about who we are?”
Grebo stared at Tanner for a few seconds. “You’re lying.”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you. She’s not … she can’t be—”
“We’re giving you a chance to survive this. You can either swim free or sink with the others. Make your choice.”
“I can’t,” Grebo said. “You don’t understand—”
“Give me the tape,” Tanner said to Cahil. “We’re done here.” Bear reached for the tape.
“Wait!” Grebo cried. “You’re not lying? About the woman … her husband?”
“You picked the wrong victim, Izet.”
“I didn’t pick her, I—”
“That’s not really the point, is it?” Tanner replied. “You were there; you participated. I’ll say it one more time, so listen carefully: You have a chance to come out of this alive — the only one, in fact. It’s time to decide, Izet. You have five seconds.”
Grebo thought for a few moments, then nodded. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” Tanner replied. “Let’s start with Karl Litzman.”
They questioned him for nearly an hour, taking him backward, forward, and sideways through the same topics until Tanner felt fairly certain he wasn’t holding anything back — save one area. He claimed to know Litzman only by his alias, Stephan, and swore he was only a conduit between him and Svetic. Grebo’s earlier comment about needing an excuse to slip away contradicted this explanation. What was he hiding? Why was Litzman dealing with Grebo, and not Svetic, the leader of the group? Clearly, Litzman had a role in all this; what was it?
Regarding Amelia Root, Grebo knew neither why Svetic had kidnapped her, nor why they were in Innsbruck. Aside from “when, where, how” instructions, Svetic shared little with his men, citing the need for operational security. This Tanner could believe. Until a few days ago the only two men on earth who’d known about Kestrel were himself and Jonathan Root. Svetic understood Kestrel’s potential; to share that with anyone — even his own men — would be too risky.
Satisfying his own curiosity, Oliver asked Grebo about Hekuran Selmani. “Svetic served him up, dicing he?”
“It was necessary.”
“What was his real name?”
“Boric.”
“He didn’t know? He really thought you all were coming back for him?”
Grebo nodded. “Yes.”
Though Tanner had never doubted Svetic’s ruthless-ness, hearing Grebo describe it in clinical detail made his scalp tingle. Cold, cold people.
Finally Tanner asked about where Amelia Root was being held.
“A cabin outside Vogelsberg; it’s about twenty minutes from here.”
“How many men?”
“Three.”
Too few, Briggs thought.
From the front seat Oliver said, “He’s lying.”
“No, no, I’m not,” Grebo cried.
“We know there was at least six on Svetic’s team. Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. Svetic took Mirza and two of the others and left yesterday. He didn’t say where. I already told you: He’s secretive. He ordered us to stay at the cabin and wait for him to get back. When he did, we were going to finish the job and leave.”
Where was Svetic? Tanner wondered. Innsbruck was the focal point of everything. The kidnapping of Amelia Root, the false trail leading Oliver and McBride to Hekuran Selmani, the explosion … The entire scheme had been designed to bring Jonathan Root to Innsbruck, to Kestrel’s hiding place. Why, at this, the final stage, would Svetic leave?