After another quick search of the apartment proved fruitless, Harvath, Toffle, and the rest of the MEK operatives had quietly stolen out of the building and fanned out in separate directions just as the first police cars began arriving on the scene to secure both ends of the Goltzstrasse.
Two hours later, they had met back up at their prearranged rallying point-a half-empty Bierstube on the eastern side of the city.
Sitting with the men at a quiet table in back, Harvath stared blankly at the old German movie posters covering the walls, stained a deep yellow from years of nicotine accumulation. He couldn’t help but feel that he had let Lawlor down by not finding anything of use in the apartment.
The men made small talk as they unwound and kept the waitress busy going back and forth for beers and shots of Jägermeister. The cold, caramel-colored liquor warmed Harvath’s stomach and, mixed with the strong German beer was beginning to deaden the throbbing pain coursing up and down his left side. It felt like he had been hit by a tank.
His mind drifted to what Meg had said back in his apartment in Alexandria. The idea that Harvath might have devoted most of his adult life chasing the elusive respect of his father was something he didn’t feel comfortable wrestling with. That in turn made him wonder about Meg. Things had moved quickly between them, and he began to wonder if maybe they had moved along too quickly. A feeling of hopelessness was beginning to well up inside him. Suddenly, he caught himself.What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t like him. He needed to get his head back in the game.Concentrate on the assignment, he told himself. People always leave clues-it’s just a matter of looking hard enough until you find them. He needed to uncover a lead, something that would help them find Gary.
Sebastian was talking on his cell phone as Herman raised his empty glass to get the waitress’s attention and said, “What do you want to do next?”
“What can we do?” replied Harvath. “The way I see it, the only option we have now is to canvass the neighborhood and see if anyone remembers seeing Gary.”
“That’s a lot of work,” said Herman, “and it could draw a lot of attention.”
“It might not be necessary,” said Sebastian, folding up his phone and placing it back in his pocket.
“Why not?” said Harvath.
“You’ll see. Follow me.”
As Harvath stood in the parking lot behind the Bierstube, he tried to find some way of keeping warm other than stomping his feet, which sent shudders of pain through his left side. Sebastian explained that he had been on his cell phone with his operative from the café across from the Capstone apartment building. Apparently, the man had something he wanted them to see. When Harvath asked what it was, Sebastian smiled and held up his index finger in a gesture that said, “Be patient.”
Moments later, a pair of bright halogen headlights came slicing into the lot and headed right toward them. They belonged to a brown BMW, which skidded to a stop directly in front of where they were standing. The driver climbed out of the car, walked over and shook hands with Sebastian and Herman. They spoke in rapid-fire German that was too fast for Harvath to understand. Finally, the driver motioned for Harvath to follow him.
“Sorry to have missed all the fun,” said the man, with only a trace of a German accent, as they walked around to the trunk of his car. “My name is Max.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Harvath, as they shook hands.
When they reached the trunk, Max pressed a button on his keyless entry device and the trunk popped open.
Harvath leaned forward to peer inside only to have Max say, “Be careful, he bites. Although we are working on that, aren’t we, Heinrich?”
The man lying on the floor of the trunk was dressed like a waiter, and as he began to sit up he let loose with a string of colorful German expletives, most of which, from what Harvath could gather, were directed at Max’s mother.
Max responded by slamming the lid of the trunk down on Heinrich’s head.
“What’s this all about?” asked Scot, as Max raised the lid again, revealing a somewhat stunned Heinrich who looked like he was ready to shoot his mouth off again, yet might be thinking better of it.
Max leaned in and grabbed Heinrich’s face between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing the man’s lips into a tight pucker that made him look like a fish. “Heinrich has a little present for you.”
“Let me guess. Did he see something?”
“Oh, he certainly did. You see, Heinrich is a waiter at a certain café on Goltzstrasse, and it turns out we used to know each other from the days when I investigated narcotics. He told me he was clean, but based on what I found in his pockets, I think he may be telling an untruth.”
Harvath looked hard at Heinrich and then shifted his gaze to Max. “And?”
“And, well, Heinrich came on duty right when I was preparing to leave. Everyone in the café was watching the policemen outside and talking about what had happened. When Heinrich saw me, he tried to sneak back into the kitchen, but seeing as how we are old friends, how could I pass up such a wonderful opportunity to get reacquainted? For some reason, Heinrich was acting very nervous, so I helped him into the men’s room where I went through his pockets and found that he was not as clean as he claimed to be. Isn’t that right, Heinrich?” said Max as he used his free hand to pat the man firmly on the head where even Harvath could see a very nasty lump was already rising.
“In the course of our conversation,” continued Max, “he asked me why the police had been spending so much time hassling people on the Goltzstrasse. When I asked him to be more specific he told me that yesterday he saw two policemen staking out the apartment building up the street and that they had eventually busted some businessman by zapping him with a Taser. They then cuffed him, threw him into the back of their car, and sped away.”
Harvath couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What did the man look like?”
Heinrich, happy to spit out what he knew and hopefully get away from Max said, “He looked like a businessman in a suit with a long overcoat. Okay?”
“More,” said Harvath. “Height, age, weight, hair color…”
“Gray hair. He was an older man. Maybe he was in his late fifties or early sixties. I am not sure. He was medium height and not thin, but not fat either. That’s all I know.”
Harvath pumped him with further questions and listened as Heinrich the junkie waiter repeated the same story he had told Max.
“Is it common for German police to subdue suspects with stun guns?” asked Harvath.
“I don’t know,” said Heinrich scared of what might happen if he didn’t answer every question the American was asking.
“He wasn’t talking to you,Dummkopf,” said Max, slapping him in the head. “He was talking to me.” Turning toward Harvath he said, “No. Using a stun gun to subdue a suspect is very unusual. That’s why I thought you might want to hear Heinrich’s story for yourself and have a chance to ask him questions. Do you have anything else?”
Harvath asked Heinrich to describe the “policemen” and their car. The waiter gave the best description he could, stating that he did not really get a good look at anything. The car might have been a Volkswagen, or it could have been a Mercedes. He couldn’t tell. As far as the license plate was concerned, he hadn’t bothered taking a very good look at it. What was the point? Besides, the car pulled out and took off so fast, he wouldn’t have been able to see anything if he wanted to. The cops had been in such a hurry, he was surprised they hadn’t broadsided anyone when they tore through the intersection at the end of the block.
When Harvath had heard enough, he nodded to Max that he was finished. Heinrich knew what was coming and flattened himself down in the trunk just as Max slammed the lid shut.
Just in case Heinrich might be listening, Herman drew the men several yards away from the car so they could talk. “Now we know at least part of what happened to your friend.”
“Those guys obviously weren’t cops and to go to that great a risk in broad daylight,” said Max, shaking his head, “someone must have wanted your friend very badly.”
“I agree. So, what do you want to do?” asked Sebastian.
“If Heinrich saw something, chances are somebody else did as well,” replied Harvath.
“Like what?” said Herman “Something that looked like a police arrest? Even if we could find witnesses, they will have their own version of what happened. You know how these things go. People subconsciously color events with their own details-things they thought they saw. At best, we might get a partial description of the men who jumped your friend.”
“Or maybe a partial license plate,” responded Harvath.
Herman rubbed his forehead again with the butt of his hand before responding. “I think the odds are not in our favor.”
Harvath was getting progressively more frustrated. “Not in our favor?I don’t know how you conduct investigations in Germany, but-”
“The police conduct investigations,” answered Sebastian, “and they are already crawling all over that neighborhood questioning everyone about the shooting. Herman is right. The odds of finding someone with something of value are not in our favor. Witnesses are too unreliable.”
Harvath told himself to calm down. He knew that often his temper could get the better of him. These men were on his side. They had stuck their necks out to help him and he needed to bear that in mind. There had to be something they could do. Seeing red was not going to help. Then it hit him!Seeing red.
“What about video?”
“Video?What video?”
“There was a bank across the street from the apartment. They had two ATM machines outside with a red logo above them. What about their security footage?”
“You mean footage from cameras positioned to monitor people going in and out of the bank and using the ATMs?”
“Yes.”
“I would imagine the footage would only show people going in and out of the bank and using the ATMs.”
“But it might show something else.”
Herman shook his head. “It’s a long shot.”
“At this point, a long shot is all we have,” said Harvath.
“He may be right,” said Max. “Many of the security cameras now incorporate improved wide-angle lenses with increased depth of field. In case of a robbery, there’s a lot more information available on what was happening outside the bank, such as where the escape vehicle was parked, which direction it took and so on.”
“Speaking of which,” said Harvath, glad that his theory was gaining ground, “What about the traffic cameras at both intersections on Goltzstrasse?”
“Those I am not so sure of,” responded Max. “They only activate when a traffic violation has taken place and they are limited to photographing the vehicle while it is in the intersection.”
“But it sounds like the car we’re looking for may have committed a traffic violation leaving the scene,” said Harvath.
“It’s possible,” replied Max.
“Of course it’s possible, especially if they were in a hurry. With a snatch and grab, the key is to get away as fast as possible. You don’t wait around for anything. You want to get the hell out of there.”
“But even if we did agree with you about the footage,” said Herman. “How are we going to get access to it?”
“That’s simple,” said Max with a smile, anticipating the challenge. “We’ll go in and take it.”
“Absolutely not,” replied Sebastian, who turned his attention to Harvath. “I appreciate what you did for me in the apartment and I don’t want you to doubt that, but this has become very dangerous. What we did for you, we did as a favor to Herman and that favor is now over. Without some clear and evident threat to German national security, there is nothing else we can do for you.”
Harvath had known that this moment would come. He had been trying to figure out exactly what, and how much, he could tell Herman and the rest of the MEK operatives to extend their cooperation, but not jeopardize his assignment. As he stood facing Herman, Sebastian, and Max, he made a decision. It was the moment of truth, or half-truth at least. He carefully reviewed in his mind what he was going to say and offered, “The United States is being faced with a very serious and imminent terrorist action which is to take place in less than seven days. The man I came looking for has information that could help prevent that attack. The terrorists know this and we believe that is why he was kidnapped.”
“What kind of attack are we talking about?” asked Sebastian.
“Something very big that will happen in several different U.S. cities on the same day.”
“And what is the threat to Germany?”
“There is a remote chance the terrorists may have plans to target the major cities of our allies as well.”
“Do you know who the terrorists are?” asked Herman.
Though he hated to do it, he had to. Harvath looked his friend right in the eye and kept on lying. “No, we have no idea.”
“So,” continued Sebastian, “you are saying that there may or may not be plans to launch a major terrorist action within the Federal Republic of Germany by a group of unknown persons sometime within the next seven days?”
“Yes.”
“Why hasn’t your government shared this information with us?”
“Because it’s highly speculative as to the risk Germany faces.”
“How speculative the risk should be up to us to ascertain.”
“I agree, which is why I am telling you this.”
“In all fairness, you haven’t told us much,” replied Herman.
“You now know what we know. Listen, this whole thing can be derailed if we locate the man I am looking for.”
“Who is he?”
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t say, or won’t say,” queried Sebastian, “because I have to have more than you’ve given me if I am going to authorize any more cooperation.”
Harvath met Sebastian’s gaze and realized he was going to have to give the man something substantial. “His name is Gary Lawlor.”
The three men standing in front of him were stunned.
“The deputy director of the FBI?” asked Herman.
“Former deputy director,” replied Harvath, “He now heads a new division of our Department of Homeland Security called the Office of International Investigative Assistance.”
“What does this office do exactly?”
“Their mission is to help solve and prevent terrorist acts against Americans and American interests both at home and abroad.”
“And your connection here is?”
“Gary Lawlor is my new boss,” said Harvath, hoping that the bone he had thrown them had enough meat on it to make them happy.
“So no more Secret Service?” asked Herman.
“No more Secret Service,” responded Harvath.
“I guess that will have to do for now,” said Sebastian.
“So you’re in?” replied Harvath.
“Yeah, we’re in. Here’s what I am prepared to do. Since we are apparently going to continue without official sanction, I want this contained. If it blows up in our faces, I don’t want to drag my entire team down. I will let the rest of the men go. Max and I will get a hold of the bank and traffic footage-”
“How do you plan on doing that?” asked Harvath.
“I think we’ll let the police do it for us.”
“Won’t they be suspicious of the involvement of two MEK operatives?”
“Not if they think we’re fellow investigators,” said Max as he fished a set of authentic looking credentials out of his pocket that identified him as a special federal investigator.
Sebastian walked over to Max’s BMW and as he opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat, said over his shoulder, “We’ll call you on Herman’s cell phone as soon as we have everything and tell you where to meet us.”
Max followed, slapping the side of the trunk to make sure Heinrich hadn’t fallen asleep and said, “Time to get back to work, Liebling.”
Moments later, all that was left in the parking lot was a pair of tire tracks in the light snow that had begun to accumulate.
“Back inside?” asked Herman.
“No. I’ve got someplace else in mind.”
“Really? I didn’t think you knew Berlin very well.”
“Actually,” responded Harvath, “I don’t. This is a place a friend of mine used to frequent. Let’s get going. I’ll explain in the car.”