The absolver vienna, p.18
The Absolver- Vienna, page 18
part #1 of Saint Michael Thriller Series
“What’s that mean?”
John scoffed. “Which part?”
“Lower Austria?”
“The east end of the country, away from the Alps. Pick up a book or map once in a damned while, especially if you’re on assignment somewhere.”
Michael let a prolonged silence speak for him.
“Anyhow,” John continued, “he’s kept on gettin’ state benefits and his tax papers show the company’s barely gettin’ by. All my organized crime guys’re tellin’ me the man’s on the take somewhere. According to his address and the cost of living in Vienna, he’s upside down. The man’s feeding five or six people on about $300 a month. So, it’s all bullshit. He would-a closed shop and sold the van if that was true, but, somehow, he’s still payin’ rent and keepin’ the lights turned on.”
“I’d love to sit down and hear about all your intel resources. That’s the same kinda info that I could’ve dig up in my past life.”
“My sources are need-to-know, shithead. If we ever get so desperate that you have to try to fill these shoes, I guess you’ll finally get that look behind the curtain.”
Michael glanced back at König through the binos. No change. “Anything’s possible.”
“Don’t hold your breath, doc says I got a good fifty years left.”
“Who’s your P-C-P? Doctor Seuss?”
“Alright, funny man. You get your care package?”
Michael glanced over to the bed where he’d placed the parcel when the concierge had delivered it to his room earlier. A small thin white plastic square no wider than his thumbnail sat atop the cardboard box in which it arrived. “Yeah, just about an hour ago. Thanks for doing that. Still can’t install it for another few hours, though.”
“Hope it helps. Anything else I can do for you? You’re kinda runnin’ outta time on this one. You ain’t gonna drop the ball, are you? I can’t have two ‘Londons’ sucking up my resources and personnel.”
“Working on it. If your device works, I oughta have an answer one way or the other.”
“When?”
“Tonight, if everything goes right.”
“Check in with me later. I want a status report on the device before you go back in. If this comes up blank, I’m gonna hafta see about diverting personnel to the port on pretty damned short notice. We’re not really equipped for that, but there’s too many lives at stake to sit around wringing our goddamned hands and wishing things were different.”
“Yeah. I’ll let you know.”
“You know how to hunt snakes, Andrew.” John paused and Michael realized he hadn’t heard his Apostolic pseudonym for a while. “If he’s the snake we think he is, and you give ‘im the right bait, his instincts’ll take over and he won’t be able to help himself. He’ll show you what he really is if you give ‘im the chance. I knew this was gonna be a tough assignment, and I picked you ‘cause I knew ya’s up to it. Don’t make me look bad for believin’ in you.”
“Copy that.” Michael didn’t know what to think of John’s sporadic compliments. Feels like ‘To Build A Fire,’ he thought as he brought the binos back up to his eyes. “Anything else? I gotta get back to watching him do nothing for a few more hours.”
“Anybody that says stakeouts’re fun ain’t never been on one. Keep your wits abouch-ya, and don’t get complacent. I don’t believe the Church’s got a prison mission in Austria, and I’d damned sure hate to see you hafta start one.”
Michael smirked beneath the binos. “Yeah, that makes two of us.” The call disconnected, and he set the phone on his lap. König does a shitload of paperwork for a man that’s running an illegal business. Michael pulled the binos away and looked out at König’s building. Maybe the desk-nerds were right. He’s gotta create a shitload of forged invoices to account for the transactions and customers he claims to have. That’s why Lloyd's could have given him a high rating. He’d have to have also opened a bunch of front companies that he could bill. He deposits money through online accounts from the front company, pays himself with checks from König International, and as long as no one looks that deep into the fronts, he’s laundering his own drug money. Damn. That might work, at least for a while.
Michael stood up and stiffly walked over to a counter between the en-suite bathroom and living area where the in-room coffee pot sat. He dropped his last tea bag into a coffee-ringed cup and poured hot water over it. Gotta call down and have the coffee and tea refilled later tonight so Mister Helpful Bellhop doesn’t accidentally deliver them.
He stood and stared at König’s office window while the mug warmed his hands. I need to photograph all König’s documents when I go back over tonight. It won't get us the answers I need in the next day, but they might come in handy if this thing goes into overtime. The dirty delivery driver helps bolster the wife’s allegations against König, but it’s not nearly enough for me to take any action. Gotta find irrefutable evidence of real evil first, and I’m not even close to that yet.
Michael looked at the clock and realized he should be hungry. Not ready to eat. I’ll recite the afternoon prayers and then get lunch delivered. With any luck, I can eat another meal without having the hotel staff incite an international incident. He smiled darkly at the potential consequence. That bellhop could actually see to it that I start a Catholic prison ministry, after all.
FORTY-TWO
February 18, 2:21PM.
Hotel Sacher. Vienna, Austria.
Michael sat in his hotel room and continued to watch König’s office. With nothing else productive to do until his target left work and returned to his hotel suite, Michael pressed onward with his stakeout. It’s entirely possible that I’m not up to catching König. He’s had years to perfect his trafficking operations, his hiding places, his security protocols. Pretty similar to my past life as a street cop. We generally didn’t catch the smart ones there, either. With all his intellect, money, and influence throughout the region, König’s got access to resources and assets most men don’t even realize exist.
He stiffly stood up from the chair and stretched. I can step away for a minute or two. If he leaves for the day, I’ll get up to his suite before König even hits the sidewalk. If he doesn’t come straight back here, though, I have little chance of getting down to Operngasse in time to follow him anywhere else. Another reason why teams work better for this.
Setting the binoculars down on the coffee table, Michael stepped over to the counter and drained what little coffee remained in a room service carafe there. It had long ago gone cold, but he’d run out of tea bags and wasn’t in a choosy mood. Gulping at the cool blackness, Michael stared across the street at his target’s windows. If I can’t uncover what we need from his hidden room by myself, then John might have to reconsider our protocols. I’m gonna need to take up that cross on another day though, after I know what’s possible tonight.
Michael returned to his seat and resumed his mundane task. König’s thermal image stood, stretched, and tidied up the desk. He strode over to the office corner closest to Michael and stood in front of the bookcases for a moment. König raised his hand up against the wall for a few seconds, then swung a concealed door into a cold, black space behind his office. He must have turned off the heat in there, that room’s black as night.
Michael watched in amazement as warm air from König’s office rolled into the adjacent room like fog and mingled with the cold air inside. König stepped well past the doorway, so Michael could only see him and what he touched. Even his footsteps shone on the cold floor for several minutes. Handprints appeared suspended in midair. Must be a counter or shelf inside the room. It’d be pretty damned funny if it turns out that’s where he keeps his Bibles and Girl Scout cookies.
Michael set the thermals back down and considered how little time he had left to succeed. If the intel and the wife’s allegations are right, then I only have tonight and tomorrow to save all the lives that König’s drug shipment is gonna ruin. If his dope kills another hundred addicts, and each victim had only a dozen people who loved them, that’s already twelve-hundred lives. Those dozen vicarious victims probably each have a dozen more who’ll have to watch their implosion. Now we’re over fourteen-thousand lives, and God knows it’s a helluva lot more than that. He smirked at the weight he felt thrust upon his shoulders and soul. No pressure, Michael, but it’s all up to you. Well, and God, in all fairness, but I’m the one tasked with the burden. I don’t know how I’ll carry the cross of knowing I failed to prevent that kind of suffering.
FORTY-THREE
February 18, 3:17PM.
Hotel Sacher. Vienna, Austria.
Rogelio sat on his room’s plush king bed, leaned back against the elegant, oversized headboard, and watched Univision. He periodically glanced at the open laptop next to him on the bed. König’s still in his office and hasn’t yet been killed by any of his bad decisions. His cell phone vibrated atop the down-filled duvet and Rogelio looked at the caller ID. Finally. “Give me good news for a change.”
“The team you requested is departing within the hour. They’re on a private flight with all the weapons and gear you wanted. The plane will land at a small, unregulated airstrip an hour outside Vienna.”
"They are the kind of men I need?”
“No visible tattoos, no radical, distinguishing features, and all are former Mexican Special Forces or Marines. So, yes, they are just what you asked for. I ensured they are all flying with two changes of expensive clothes, but nothing too ‘Mexican.’”
“They will still look like foreigners here, but that cannot be avoided. They won’t need to fit in for long, and probably only while we escape.”
“What is your plan?”
Rogelio glanced back at the laptop where König’s image still sat at his desk and worked. “We no longer have time to take our money from König before the shipment arrives, so we will let him pay us and then take our drugs back from him afterward.”
“Why don’t we just kill him and his men at the port at the exchange?”
“The port has been working well for our shipments up to now. I don’t wish to ruin that by painting their docks with blood. It is better for business to kill König on his return to Austria.”
“Very good. I know time is short, but I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Of course." Rogelio disconnected the call and considered his intended use of the imported gunmen. They’ll each earn more than enough money to buy their silence and continued loyalty. I’ll enjoy paying König’s killers with his euros. Just before he dies, I hope to explain that I counted on him to fund his own murder. Rogelio smiled at the irony. That’s the price of failure in this business.
FORTY-FOUR
February 18, 4:13PM.
Hotel Sacher. Vienna, Austria.
Michael waited until König walked from his office to leave the hotel room. Dressed in a bright pink polo shirt inconsistent with local dress, Michael had chosen to hide in plain sight for this brief surveillance operation. The shoe lifts, thick black eyeglasses, and shaved head helped differentiate his appearance as he walked back to the stairwell between his room and König’s suite one floor up. He still has to leave the large tourist building, cross Operngasse, and ascend four floors through the Sacher. More than enough time for me to plant the device outside his suite.
Michael ascended the stairs, stepped out onto König’s floor, and nonchalantly approached suite D41 with the small, square electronic device concealed in his left palm. As he passed the target, Michael paused to set its adhesive backing in place to the left of the door handle and frame. It just fit in a small void outside the ornate door trim and immediately below an equally elaborate chair rail. Michael calmly continued to the end of the hallway, where he intended to use a different set of stairs to return to his room. Seeing that no one had entered the corridor after him, Michael turned around and risked one more pass by König’s suite.
As he strode by, Michael confirmed the device reasonably blended in with its new surroundings. I can’t leave it in place indefinitely. The housekeeping staff probably dusts and cleans the hallways once or twice a day, and they’d be the first to notice something like this. I’ll leave it here for a few hours and see what it picks up. If I’m lucky, König will walk by a few times, and I can recover it after he turns in for the night. Michael continued to the other, farther end of the hallway to find an alternate route back to his floor. With luck and divine intervention, I’ll have everything in König’s hidden room inventoried before dawn.
FORTY-FIVE
February 18, 8:47PM.
Lokal Sacher. Vienna, Austria.
Alfred sat across the table from his date in the reservation-only restaurant on the first floor of the Hotel Sacher. She beamed while telling a story, but Alfred had already forgotten its beginning. It doesn’t matter that Stefanie hasn’t yet been found or gone missing, officially, there’s no point in carrying on with the appearance of the relationship and depriving myself of the joys in this life, just because my wife doesn’t have the decency to show herself so she can disappear properly. Alfred smiled pleasantly and pretended to listen to her story. Hannah, what? I know she told me her last name. Doesn’t matter, she won’t share my reserved table for that long. Alfred chose periodic opportune moments to nonchalantly ogle her perfect body and the little black dress she’d managed to squeeze it into. He followed her social cues and laughed along with her. Not sure what she finds funny. I suppose the front end of her tale might be more critical than I understood.
The young woman apologized and stood. “If you’ll excuse me. Do you know where the powder room is?”
“Yes, of course. It’s behind me, through the hallway at the back.”
“Thank you, I’ll only be a moment.” Hannah moved purposefully away from the table, but with captivating gravitas and poise.
Alfred turned and unapologetically watched her walk away. I’m gonna enjoy fucking her tonight. He waited until losing sight of Hannah’s shapely buttocks to rotate back around. His chest filled with fear and apprehension as his Santa Lena contact, Rogelio Salvador, approached his table and deliberately sat in Hannah’s chair. Both men sat in silence for a moment, and Alfred saw Salvador exhibited none of the emotions welling up inside him.
“Guten abend, Herr König,” the cartel don quietly announced. “I hoped we might have a quick word, if it’s not too inconvenient a time for you and your young mistress.”
“Guten, uh, abend, Señor Salvador. No, um, she’s not,” Alfred stopped stammering and cleared his throat to gain control of himself. “How can I help you? This is, uh, most unexpected.”
“That’s the point, König. I wanted to ensure that all is well for the delivery. I would hate to think you’ve mismanaged this and failed to meet your obligations at this late hour, especially while you’re preoccupied with the help.”
Alfred leaned forward to keep their conversation private. “I’ve done nothing of the sort, all is well. Did you come all the way here just to threaten me over perceptions?”
“I know far more than you think, Herr König. If you’re certain that my payment is ready, then I’ll let you get back to your night, and, whatever it is you hoped it would hold.”
“Yes, of course, Señor Salvador, all is well. Your fears are misplaced and whatever information you think you have is inaccurate.”
“That’s good to know. I value partnerships that I can trust. We’re looking forward to the delivery, and to ensuring that our arrangement will benefit both our families and organizations.” Salvador rose, replaced Hannah’s chair, and nodded once at Alfred. “I’ll see you again in the coming days. I hope your night is all you wish it to be.”
Alfred merely nodded his agreement as Salvador stepped away from the table and moved toward the hotel lobby. He didn’t understand what had just happened, or why, or—
“Is everything alright?”
Alfred glanced up when Hannah spoke and delicately touched his left shoulder. “Yes, of course.” He looked back toward the restaurant’s entrance and saw Salvador had disappeared. “I just, thought I saw someone I knew.”
“Oh?” Hannah followed his gaze as she returned to her seat. “Who was that?”
“Oh, no one you would know. A business associate from a long time ago, but, no, it was not him.” Alfred raised his glass of red wine to change the subject. “It matters not. A toast. To new...friendships...”
Hannah raised her glass, smiled, and blushed ever so slightly at his obvious meaning. “Yes. To new friendships, and, to gracious hosts.” She softly clinked her glass against his.
“Of course, it is, after all, the very least I can do after all that you’ve done for me.” When Hannah demurely looked away, Alfred again scanned the restaurant’s entrance. Salvador must really have left. “How would you feel about ordering dessert?”
“I’m always willing to consider something sweet, and decadent, and perhaps, against the rules.”
Alfred leaned closer and flashed a devilish grin. “How would you feel about ordering dessert, from room service?”
Hannah grinned, finished her wine, and placed her folded napkin atop the table. “I thought you’d never ask.”
They stood together, but Alfred motioned for her to lead. “After you.” She smiled at his perceived chivalry and walked toward the entrance. Alfred followed close behind, hoping Hannah would allow him ample warning of anything Salvador might have planned for him. Not like Santa Lena gunmen would give a damn about shooting a woman, but she may have the decency to give me a chance to escape. No point in both of us dying tonight.
