Isaac searched the faces of his men for some answer. He knew he could depend on Stanislav Kirsac and Max Sardouf to follow his directions to the letter, regardless of how difficult the assignment. After all, they had worked for Isaac in Hungarian Intelligence for over ten years. But they weren't due back in Budapest for a week. They had all traveled together throughout Western Europe and Scandinavia in search of military secrets to please the Hungarian government and, more importantly, the former Soviet KGB. Anything they found that hadn't already been uncovered by the KGB was not only a source of great pride to Isaac, but nearly contemptuous to the KGB for not getting the information sooner. But what the trio had found on those frequent trips to the West, was an affluent people with a fervent lust for things. And their democratic European cousins got what they wanted, Isaac thought. That will change soon.
"How was Germany?" Isaac asked.
The two men sat side by side as one. The two could have passed as brothers, Isaac thought. Their high brow ridges resembled more Ukrainian men than their Croatian heritage. Even more than their pronounced foreheads, their continual stoic expressions in near perfect harmony, made them appear as only brothers could. They looked at each other, and then back at Isaac.
"One of our contacts is missing," Max finally said, more self-assured than Stanislav.
"Which one?" Isaac asked.
"The one from Bitburg," Max added. "We're sure he's dead."
Isaac leaned back in his chair. It wasn't as comfortable as the one in Croatia, but not much would be for a while.
"Who did it?" Isaac asked.
"We have our suspicions," Max continued. "We think he might have been selling to another country or one of the local businesses."
"Why?"
"Well…we saw him with Gunter Schecht."
Isaac paused for a moment. "Shit! I thought he retired last year?"
"He may be freelancing," Stanislav said cautiously.
"Can we replace our contact?" Isaac asked.
The two men looked at each other again. "Do we need one?" Stanislav asked more boldly.
"Of course we do," Lebovitz said, somewhat disgusted with the question. I'm glad I don't count on these two for their brains, he thought. "We might need more from Teredata…we should have all we need, but I'm not certain. We do need a good, reliable contact in Germany, though. Find someone close to the government in Bonn. We'll need some good inside information."
"Anything else?" Max asked as both men rose.
Isaac thought for a moment. Something wasn't making sense. Why kill the man in Bitburg? "I need to know who killed our Teredata contact, and why," Isaac said. "Also, find out who Gunter Schecht is working for. I don't like it when a guy with his reputation is involved. I don't trust that bastard."
With all the directions the men needed, they both nodded and departed the office.
Isaac slumped back into his chair and tapped the side of his forehead with his index finger. Somehow this must all come together, he thought. It will happen. The San Remo villa overlooking the opulent Mediterranean coast will surely be his. The overwhelming scent of roses will rise from the terraced fields and engulf his very existence.
CHAPTER 18
The Audi A6 crept slowly up the residential hill and turned left onto a one block dead end street. There were only a few houses with large, meticulously landscaped yards on the block. Jake had selected a corner house due to its view of the road and Bonn. He pulled over to the curb and parked over a block from his newest apartment, and waited to see if he had any surprise guests. He had leased the house from an older couple for a month-an agreement that he would not keep. Using his best British accent, he had told his landlords he was just assigned to the embassy.
Jake was a bit superstitious about renting another Audi, since his previous encounter with Gunter and his men. Superstitions aside, he wasn't about to let Gunter take another crack at him. Changing cars daily was a small caution.
A few days had passed since Jake Adams and Herbert Kline became partners. The weather had been uncooperative, raining constantly. Even a warm rain would have been welcomed, but this was the type that chilled one to the bone. Not cold enough to snow, but cold enough to freeze after it hit the ground. His windshield wipers swished across the glass, but left annoying splotches of ice right in Jake's view.
Jake was getting used to working with Herb. The computer remained an important source of information, but a human factor was refreshing.
Herb was old school intelligence. Hit the streets, work the contacts, analyze the reliability, and come up with a reasonable analysis. Herb's skill and intuition had been underestimated by Jake's colleagues at the CIA and German Intelligence. Most had seen the outside man, not the inner man. Only time and proper observation could reveal the innate qualities of a person, Jake thought.
Along with the change of cars, Jake had continued to move from hotel to Gasthaus throughout the Bonn area, frustrating Herb each time. His current house in the hills on the right bank of the Rhine offered a splendid view of Bonn's government office district and a distanced view of Bundenbach Electronics. Seeing the building had a cathartic affect on Jake. It wasn't necessary to remain so close, but it seemed to focus his vision on his mission.
The days had been filled with long hours in cars observing Bundenbach and Gunter Schecht. The time in the car had reminded Jake of his days with the Company. Jake had often felt guilty that he was getting paid to sit and observe someone going through their normal daily routines. When his observations actually turned into a significant piece of information, Jake would finally find satisfaction and accomplishment in all the waiting.
Everything looked in order. Jake drove forward slowly and pressed the button to the remote control garage door opener. The gray door crept fully open just as Jake's Audi slid through. He quickly closed the garage door and entered the house through an inside door.
Once inside, he checked the place for any disturbances. Nothing. He opened the Rolladens covering the windows and let in what little light remained in the overcast afternoon.
Jake looked down at the smooth Rhine out his back window. A coal barge loaded to the hilt slowly worked its way up stream toward Koblenz or Mainz. Jake couldn't help wondering about the fate of Charlie Johnson's body. He should have just retired from the Air Force and gone Bass fishing in Georgia like he had planned all along.
A small flat beeper attached to the inside pocket of Jake's leather jacket beeped three times. He quickly retrieved it. A red light blinked next to a number lit up on an LCD screen. Jake picked up the phone and dialed Herb's number. The system was working. Jake had given Herb his beeper number that could be accessed through a central switch and transmitted anywhere in Germany.
Herb answered the phone on the first ring. "Tag."
"Wie gehts? So, how about some dinner tonight?"
"Sounds good. The place we discussed?"
"Yes!"
"Is seven fine with you?" Herb asked.
"Yes!"
"See you then."
The line went blank. Jake looked at his watch; it was five o'clock. He still had over an hour before he was to meet Herb for dinner. All of their meeting times were actually an hour before the stated time.
The apartment Jake leased was furnished in a contemporary style. Black marble coffee table and end tables, brass lamps, and short dark gray carpeting. Jake plopped down onto one of the oversized white leather chairs. He was about to remove one of his Italian leather shoes by shoving the toe against the heel, but then he thought for a second and decided to undo the laces and set them gently next to the chair. Toni Contardo had bought him those shoes on a ski vacation in Cortina D'Ampezzo almost three years ago. "You buy quality leather and they'll last," Toni had said. He wondered if he should call her? They had made a clean and mutual break when Jake left Germany, but if Toni found out he was back in Europe and failed to call…well, he didn't want to think of the consequences of Toni's Italian temper.