Tidal Rage by David Evans (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

Werner had grown stronger under the healing rays of the sun. He had gained back his ruddy complexion, and regained a little of the weight he had dramatically shed. The only major frustration for Werner was the intolerable voice box he had to hold to his throat to speak. It somehow decreased his power and the respect he was held in, or so he thought, as paranoia was another legacy of that awful day in the Bavarian Alps.

Delegate Frau Uebering was a regular visitor; taking time out from her duties in the Bundestag to ensure her other main business was maintained. Whenever she visited, she would bring along her lover and attorney, Von-Baer. It would annoy Werner that quite often they would contaminate his pristine swimming pool with their bodily fluids as they cavorted unashamedly.

Jan Eichmann, the gang’s master forger, who had been arrested at the same time as Werner, had served only two years of his ten-year sentence, thanks to the intervention of Delegate Frau Uebering, using her contacts in the judicial system. Eichmann had, under the delegate’s and Werner’s instructions, begun the reproduction of hundred-dollar bills. They had set up a workshop on a farm just inside the Hungarian border with Austria, with easy access to Vienna and the autobahns back into Germany.

Werner, Delegate Frau Uebering, and Von-Baer sat around a white cast-iron table on lavishly cushioned chairs beside the dazzling blue, thirty-metre swimming pool. The Kurdish minders maintained a respectable distance from the table at the entrance to the property, out of earshot.

Von-Baer gave a short report on the business and growth. He discussed all three areas of the enterprise; counterfeiting, prostitution, and what he called security, but which might more accurately have been described as extortion. The business had been run without going anywhere near drugs, as they believed drugs led to turf wars, and attracted the most attention from the law enforcement agencies.

“Well, it appears we are back on track, Werner. We can put all that nasty business behind us now and look to the future,” Delegate Frau Uebering said optimistically.

“Not before I get that little shit, Richter; no one steals from me,” Werner replied, in the droning, tinny voice.

“The loss of the money was an irritation, Werner, but it can be replaced within six months. I would have thought you would have been more vengeful against the American agent who set the trap and gifted you a tin box for a voice. What was his name? Custer? No, Cutler,” she replied.

“It was only business with Cutler. He was doing his job. And thanks to Bauer, he is no longer a problem, although a little late, I might add,” the robotic voice said.

“Have you been keeping me in the dark, Werner?” Delegate Frau Uebering probed.

“Not really, just taking care of business. I had Kurt Bauer identify Cutler’s close family. After two weeks of research, he found out who they were and where they lived. As you know, Cutler was closing in on us, and I needed a diversion quickly. Anyway, Bauer discovered they had just left for a cruise to Alaska.” Werner stopped to take a sip of the local red wine.

“Bauer arranged to get a late booking for the cruise and joined the ship at Vancouver. It took him three days on-board to identify what deck and cabin they were in. Bauer said the ship was like a large town, with over two thousand people on it. This was the same day that Cutler set his trap. That delay cost me my voice.” Again, Werner had to take a break and have another sip of wine, as the vocal exertion began to hurt his larynx.

“Bauer targeted the sister; she was young and pretty, and according to his research, Cutler adored her. He followed her at a distance for several hours until he got his chance. She eventually went to the rear of the boat on the topmost deck at night, evidently looking for a signal for her phone,” Werner revealed.

“So, he killed Cutler’s sister. Did he throw her overboard?” interjected Von-Baer.

“Quiet, my poodle. Let Werner tell us the gory details,” she scolded.

“He approached her from behind, but then he heard footsteps, so he retreated into the darkness beside a bulkhead and hidden by the radar mast until the footsteps faded; but they didn’t. Evidently, some Asian guy in a wig approached her. Bauer said she appeared to know the man, and called out to him.” Werner took another sip of wine, while Delegate Frau Uebering and Von-Baer sat there, quietly engrossed.

“Bauer said the girl was a stunner, but had dressed for the weather. She had a thick, white, hand-knitted sweater on, which made her look in the early stages of pregnancy. Bauer noticed this because he said he would have had a small pang of guilt if he had to kill a baby as well.”

“Bauer wouldn’t feel guilty if he killed a kindergarten full of kids,” Von-Baer stated.

“How many times do I have to tell you, liebling...” the delegate reprimanded.

“Word for word, Bauer said the guy flicked out his right hand and connected with the tip of her nose, and the next thing she was out cold on the deck. He then ripped out a chunk of hair from her head. Within a few moments, her white Aran sweater was deep-red and oozing with blood.”

“The Asian guy killed her?” the delegate said, in complete surprise.

“Bauer said the man heard a noise from further down the deck, and quick as a flash she was gone over the side, all this in less than a minute.”

“Bruce Lee must have been covered in blood,” interposed Von-Baer. This time the delegate just gave him the look a mother gives a naughty child.

“The guy crossed within a metre of Bauer, who was ready with his knife should he