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

be discovered. The Asian pulled out a hose from the bulkhead, went back to the spot, and turned it on himself and the blood stain. Moments later no blood, no crime scene. He then replaced the hose and was gone.”

“Why would someone else want to kill her? Had Cutler upset another outfit?” the delegate asked.

“Who knows? But Bauer said we should have hired him; he was that quick.”

“Couldn’t be that good if he didn’t know he was being watched,” Von-Baer stated.

“The darkness, noise of the sea and the wind. Bauer said he wouldn’t have known if someone were standing next to him with his cock out,” Werner cut in.

“So, what did Bauer do then?” Von-Baer asked, ignoring the delegate’s look of distaste.

“All this took place the day Cutler set his trap in Bayern for us. Bauer heard from Roderick Friedman by text what had transpired to us. He didn’t know if I was alive or dead but decided to stick to the plan and go after Cutler’s parents.”

“Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you!” Von-Baer said, somewhat jokingly.

“It’s not Werner you need to be worried about, leibling,” the delegate ventured, losing patience with his constant interruptions.

“Bauer left the ship at Juneau on the next tender, by a stroke of fate so did Cutler’s parents. Frantic after the news their daughter was missing, presumed overboard. The next day, Mrs Cutler was transferred to the hospital, evidently in deep shock. Two days later Cutler turned up at the hospital.

With a little financial persuasion, Bauer discovered that an air ambulance was going to airlift the sedated Mrs Cutler and her husband back to Seattle. Bauer assumed the parents and Cutler would be traveling together.

The plane was easy to get to. He cut a hole in the fuel line and patched it with artificial skin spray, the type you would use on scratches and grazes. The skin would hold at rest, but it was only a matter of time before the skin would rupture and the fuel would leak onto the hot engine, which of course it did. And goodbye Mr and Mrs Cutler.” Werner stopped again to take a sip of wine.

“And we know Cutler was not on the plane,” the delegate deliberated.

“No, but he was out of the game. He was the major risk to our organization, but after his family’s deaths, he left the service, and now runs a company looking for missing persons rather than counterfeiters. At least, tat’s what I thought. I have some men tracking Richter in Scotland, and who should turn up? Cutler.” Werner said, while showing the delegate of a grainy picture of Cutler.

Werner’s mobile telephone rang. “Speak,” he ordered, and listened intently before continuing.

“Take the shot, fuck the money,” Werner mechanical voice commanded.

Both Delegate Frau Uebering and Von-Baer turned towards Werner in expectation.

“Looks like we have located Cutler and Richter. We traced them to Newcastle in the UK, where he had picked up a passport. Richter will be trying to leave the country. It appears Cutler or one of his men took out Falco Jager.” Werner took a much needed sip of wine to ease his throat.

“What nationality was the passport?” the delegate inquired.

“American.”

“What information did you get out of the forger?” she pressed.

“None. He is well connected and guarded. We did have access to his assistant, he gave us the names on the passport. He also has gone missing,” Werner said wearily, as all the talking took a toll on his voice.

“It appears Cutler know what he is doing,” she suggested.

“I agree. That is why we have covered the regional airports within a 150-mile radius. They are too astute to go through the bigger airports, so we covered Leeds Bradford and Liverpool airports. That was Lothar on the phone; he has located them in Liverpool Airport,” Werner informed them.

“Where are they heading?” questioned Von-Baer.

“Seems they are hopping across to Shannon in Ireland, and from there back to the States, I presume. But he will not get on the plane. Lothar has a vantage point on a factory roof adjoining the airport. The airport loads its passengers by stairs, so each person has to walk in front of the aircraft to board, and Lothar has a clear view over the staging area,” Werner explained.

“Hence take the shot,” the delegate replied.

What Werner had overlooked when he and Bauer put together the Kurdish team of minders together was that while they were experts in guarding a person, they were not professional all-round security specialists. When Werner took his weekly boat ride, the men went with him. They relied on a security system in the house that had been locally fitted. They did not sweep the house for cameras or microphone bugs; they just made sure no one approached their boss.

Philip Cortez, the Antonio Banderas lookalike Cutler had investigating Werner’s gang, had known Werner’s whereabouts for several weeks. He had researched all Werner’s associates, and with the help of some of his well-placed contacts, and the support of Fabienne Asper, he had soon discovered that Bauer, a well-known associate, had travelled through France and Italy, boarded a ferry to Greece and then onto Kos, and had entered Turkey through Bodrum in a Winnebago, which, he assumed, correctly, contained the hidden Werner.

Once Cortez had observed Werner’s routine, it was simple to gain access to the villa and the surrounding areas, such as the pool and gardens. Cortez had planted microphone spy cameras no bigger than the head of a pencil around the outside area, and microphones around the building.

Cortez had listened to every word that Werner, Delegate Frau Uebering, and Von-Baer had spoken.

He heard them discussing Cutler’s demise.

Cortez had to warn Cutler, but kept on getting an ‘unobtainable’ tone. Cutler had turned his mobile to flight mode.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Cutler had ensured