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Surely someone had to see them. And then he saw the cold calculation in the big German’s eyes, and knew that it wouldn’t matter if someone had seen them. He would simply kill them and walk away, no doubt to the comfort of some safe house.

“What do you want?” Michael asked.

The big German reached into his pocket and pulled out something that resembled a walkie-talkie, except that it had a keypad, like a phone.

“I have someone who wishes to speak with you, Herr Thorley.”

Michael frowned, watching as the German tapped out a number.

“It is Karl. Yes, I have them.”

He handed the phone to Michael, who put it to his ear.

“H—hello?”

A momentary burst of static startled him, and then he heard a voice. The accent was also German, but sounded far more cultured.

“Ahh, Michael. At last we meet through the wonders of micro-electronics.”

The voice was like warm molasses, caressing his ear with its seductive timbres. He wanted to choke it off with his bare hands.

“Who are you and what the hell do you want?”

“Who I am is unimportant, for the moment. As to what I want, why, the same thing as you...the truth.”

“Somehow, after all we’ve been through, I find that rather hard to swallow.”

The voice chuckled. “I can well understand, my young friend. Nevertheless, I must ask your indulgence one last time. You and the young lady will meet me on the last outgoing Ostend-Dover ferry at midnight. You will then hand over the letter Jarmann gave you. Is that understood?”

“What letter?”

“Please do not insult my intelligence,” the voice said. “Someone’s life depends upon your cooperation, someone very close to you.”

Michael heard the phone clunk a couple of times as it was handed over to someone else.

“Hello, Michael.”

Her voice was calm, almost normal, as if she’d called to ask about the weather or what he’d planned for dinner. And somehow that made it all the worse.

“Mother! What’s going on, what’s happening?”

Her tone changed abruptly. “Be quiet, son, and listen.... These men are quite serious. They are very capable of killing me with absolutely no reservations, so you are to do exactly what they ask. Do you have what they want?”

Michael closed his eyes and cursed silently. “Yes,” he said finally.

“Good. Then I’ll see you tonight, God willing.”

He heard the phone being snatched away from her and then the voice returned. “Is everything clear, Michael?”

“Yes, quite. If you harm her, I swear—”

“Now, now, Michael, please don’t say anything we shall both regret. Just bring the letter and all will be well, I promise. Auf wiedersehen.”

The phone went dead. He handed it back to Karl, who put it away along with his weapon.

“Don’t be late,” Karl said.

Michael watched him walk away, desiring with every ounce of his being to pounce on the sonofabitch and break his neck. He felt Erika’s hand on his arm. She went to embrace him, and he pushed her away. A look of surprise mixed with disappointment flashed across her face, replaced a moment later with one of determination.

“Who was on the phone, Michael. What did he say?”

“I’ve no idea. But it’s someone who knows what we have, what we just received from Jarmann. And whoever the hell it is has kidnapped my mother!” Michael turned and kicked the fire exit door, eliciting a hollow boom. The toe of his shoe left a shallow dent in the metal. He walked to one of the benches and sat down, cradling his head in his hands. “He wants us to meet him on the last ferry from Ostend,” he said, continuing. “...or they’ll kill her.”

“Oh, no.... We can be in Ostend in a few hours. Perhaps we can set a trap?”

“No. No traps. We’ll meet them just as they say.”

Without another word, he stalked off, leaving Erika to her own thoughts. Which was just as well. Right now, he didn’t give a damn what she thought.

Chapter Thirty-Two

They reached Ostend by five o’clock that evening, nearly catatonic from exhaustion. Parking in one of the big lots, they reclined the Peugeot’s bucket seats and tried to catch up on some sleep. In minutes Erika began snoring softly. For Michael, as bone tired as he felt, the chaos in his mind prevented sleep from overtaking him. Worries about his mother and what might happen at their rendezvous kept his mind chugging along at full tilt. That he would give up the letter he held to save her, there was no doubt whatsoever. And yet, a part of him, a tiny voice in his heart cried out for him to refuse. He understood that part of himself well, the hidden child forever wounded by the loss of his father. It was also the part that wanted to hit back at the men who’d sent him to his death, a blind unquenchable rage. And there was one other thing eating away at his soul: Jarmann’s parting words.

“...As far as I know...Friedrich Rainer never had a daughter....”

Erika shifted in her seat, moving closer to him, her scent filling his nostrils.

Who are you, Erika?

He’d asked himself that question a hundred times and none of the answers he’d come up with made any sense. And some of them he’d refused even to contemplate. He found himself growing angry again, yet he couldn’t deny that he loved her. And that made the emotional roller coaster ride all-the-more intense.

His eyes grew heavy. Too tired and confused to continue searching for the truth. He welcomed the temporary oblivion of dreamless sleep.

When he awoke, night had fallen and fog had rolled in, thick and white as raw cotton. The streetlights glowed like giant fireflies and the silence was nearly total, save for the punctuation of

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