Steiner's thoughts once again turned to his missing men. An unfamiliar, icy chill suddenly gripped him. He moved his feet from the bench to the floor, then leaned forward. Could it be that his men’s possible disappearance had to do with the same men who extracted Brennar from the East? Steiner's contact had little to say about the two, only that they were both with the American Navy. Brennar must have told them about the drug and perhaps even our plans. He couldn’t delay any further.
Engels appeared from the kitchen, standing in the shadows between Steiner and the front door. A knuckle knife was in his hand, so named because one side of the handle resembled a set of metal knuckles. He stood there quietly polishing the 5–1/2” blade with a ragged cloth. He finally asked, "Aren't they back yet?"
The sound of Engels' voice shook Steiner from his deliberations. He picked up the handgun before he stood up. "Nein." He slipped the gun into his back waistband then went toward the front door. As he turned the lock, he motioned with his head toward the kitchen and said, "Keep an eye on them. I'm going down to the lab."
The wooden banisters in the stairwells were rough and splintered; many support spindles were either broken or completely missing. On each landing one light socket was positioned in the middle of the ceiling. Steiner had seen to it that all the bulbs were removed.
His footsteps echoed as he stepped heavily going down to the first floor. Even though he'd been up and down these same steps hundreds of times, he ran a hand along the wall as he descended the last flight, being cautious with his footing as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He stopped momentarily, then pulled a key from his pants pocket, the only key that unlocked the door leading to the basement. No one entered or left without his knowledge. Opening the door, he stood at the top of the steps and lit a kerosene lamp hanging from a hook.
It was time to put the final phase of his plan into action. Whether Brennar was brought back, or even if he was already dead, no longer mattered. Once Steiner was on his way to Moscow, the woman and twins would be disposed of. They had already outlived their original purpose. The question of why he allowed them to survive this long passed briefly through his mind but he didn't linger on it. There wasn't any need at this point in time.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped onto solid concrete, then he turned up the light on the lamp. His nostrils flared as putrid smells buffeted his senses. More goddamn dead rats, he thought disgustedly.
He stopped and turned, hearing a faint sound somewhere behind him. He held the kerosene lamp high as he took a few steps. The light extended enough for him to see water leaking from a section of pipe. He turned back around and let the light cascade down on a rectangular wooden box, about five feet long, three feet wide, six inches high. He walked to it then set the lamp on the floor. Reaching down, he lifted one end. A shaft of light erupted through the opening. He raised the lid on its hinges, locked it into place at a ninety degree angle, then flipped a switch inside the opening with his thumb, energizing a small motor. The steps began unfolding as they lowered into the lab. He left the kerosene lamp burning, then climbed down the stairs.
Josef Von Wenzel looked up at him through the steps, then walked away. Flecks of gray were disbursed throughout Von Wenzel's dark brown hair. He wore black horn-rimmed glasses. A white lab coat covered dark gray slacks and shirt. He stood bent over a worktable, listening as Steiner's footsteps came closer. All the months he'd worked at this place, the scientist constantly worried about his family, about his own life. When Brennar disappeared and after he received his note, he prayed that someone would find the lab and destroy it. If that meant he and the others died, so be it. Even though he'd been coerced into fabricating the potentially lethal drug, whatever Steiner's final plans were, he, Josef Von Wenzel, and even Heisen, would be equally responsible.
"We've let this process go on too long, Herr Von Wenzel." His voice purposely sounded intimidating. "I know you've finished."
Von Wenzel turned, looking at Steiner with a questioning stare. "Finished? We still have… "
Steiner grabbed hold of a thin, frail forearm, squeezing it till Von Wenzel winced. "I said I know you're finished."
Von Wenzel seemed astonished. "But, how…? Oh, my God! Heisen — you got to Heisen."
"It seems Herr Heisen was more concerned for his family than you." Steiner gave Von Wenzel's arm a final twist, then released it. He took a step then reached behind his back, touching the Walther, but then left it alone. "While we talk, why don't you prepare some of the drug for me. I should think that two of those tubes should be enough." Steiner leaned against the table, watching every move the scientist made.
Von Wenzel transferred the clear liquid into two, four inch glass tubes, then pushed a cork securely into the top of each. He prepared himself for the worst. "And now?" he asked with a trembling voice, as he handed the glass containers to Steiner one at a time.
"Now? Now I'll leave you to clean up in here. Then, why don't you go home to your family?" Von Wenzel's knees nearly gave way beneath him as he closed his eyes in relief. Steiner reminded him, "When you leave, be sure to go out through the rear door in the basement. I'll unlock it for you. Remember, it's still daylight, and we wouldn't want you to be seen, would we?" Von Wenzel shook his head. Steiner walked by him and climbed the stairs.
Von Wenzel kept an eye on his tormentor, then, once Steiner disappeared from sight, he began wondering. Steiner seemed… rushed. Could it be possible that the lab has been discovered by the authorities? He mumbled softly, “I've got to do something.” He spun around to the table, grabbed a pen, and scribbled a brief note on a scrap of paper. He reached for a small white envelope, dumping out loose paperclips. Quickly addressing the envelope to the Chief of Police in East Berlin, he folded the paper in half and shoved it into the envelope, thinking he’d post it on the way home.
A single shot rang out. The bullet struck the scientist at the base of his skull. A reflex action caused his hand to curl around the envelope, then his body slid down the edge of the countertop. He collapsed on the floor, falling face first, with his arm outstretched under the counter. His fingers twitched, gradually uncurling, and the envelope fell from his grasp.
Steiner stood momentarily on the top step, first looking at Von Wenzel, then glancing down at the glass tubes in his own palm. He finally climbed up into the basement, leaving the trapdoor open.
Once back in the apartment, he ordered Engles to dispose of Von Wenzel's body. The procedure was simple. It was just a matter of carrying and dragging the body through the tunnel, then dumping it through the open hatch. The water flowing through the pipe was being fed by the Spree. From that point, the body would be carried along a series of pipes that formed the tunnel. They were set at different levels, each one slightly lower than the previous. Eventually, the water and Von Wenzel's body would exit at a fifty foot waterfall, emptying into a lake formed by the Muritz Dam.
Steiner opened a closet door in the hall. Hanging from a wire coat hanger was an East German military officer's uniform, bearing the insignia of a major. He pulled the uniform jacket from the hanger and carried it into the living room. He stood by the window, glancing at two rows of medals hanging above the left jacket pocket.
He pressed the cork into each of the glass tubes, ensuring they were secure. Then he placed them in an eyeglass case before slipping it inside the breast pocket. He carried the uniform back to the closet.
Engels walked through the front door, seeing Steiner leaning up against the closet door deep in thought. Engels was unable to interpret Steiner's expression, thinking perhaps it concerned Von Wenzel. "Don't worry, Klaus. It's all taken care of."