Without Options Read online

  A number of trains run from Garmish-Partenkirchen to Munich, from locals that stop at nearly every dinky town, to more express lines with only a couple of stops. Jake had gotten onto a local. He wanted the extra stops, just in case he needed to jump off. Also, he could use the extra time to get a little sleep.

  When Jake barely woke to the sound of his stop ahead, he waited for the train to stop and then found his backpack on the overhead rack and wandered off the train.

  Pullach was a small town on the southwestern edge of Munich. Jake guessed most of the residents either worked in that major city or at the most prominent employer in the town, BND, the German Federal Intelligence Service. Although the BND headquarters was still here, another office had opened in the Berlin area. Last he’d heard, though, his contact was still at this location.

  As Jake walked down the cobblestone platform heading to the small station, he noticed cameras focused his way and tried his best to keep his head down.

  Inside the little station, he found a pay phone and plugged in a couple Euros. Since it was Saturday he hoped she would be home, but she could be just about anywhere in the World.

  A woman answered with a simple Ja.

  “Can we talk?” Jake asked in German.

  “Who is speaking?”

  He recognized her voice, but he’d caught her off-guard. He couldn’t say his name, though.

  “A Prussian man dies in the Spree,” he said, hopeful she would understand.

  She cleared her throat and said, “Cousin Johann. How long has it been? I can’t believe I didn’t recognize your voice. I thought you weren’t due in until this afternoon.”

  “I have a cold. I caught an earlier train. Can you pick me up?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. Hesitating a moment, she added, “ten minutes?”

  “That would be wonderful. I’ll be waiting.”

  They both hung up and Jake glanced about the small room. A young couple with a baby in a stroller. An old man sweeping the floor. Two Goth kids with enough piercings to open a sewing shop. Nothing out of place. He checked his watch and wandered out to the street side of the building. It was nearly ten-thirty.

  The streets were relatively calm. Only a few cars and a city bus came by. So when he saw the black BMW pull up swiftly to the curb, Jake considered pulling one of his guns. But the passenger window was down and he could see Alexandra behind the wheel. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. Three features on her face had always caught his attention. First, her remarkable green eyes resembled that of a Siamese cat. Below those orbs were prominent cheek bones made most obvious with a not unreluctant stoic smirk. And finally, her always-moist, full lips that begged to be kissed, which Jake had never done. The rest of her body Jake could only guess upon, since he had never seen her in anything more revealing than tight slacks and shirt over the years. But those visions had revealed a frame and structure worked hard in the gym.

  She smiled at him and said, “Get in cousin Johann.”

  He threw his pack in the back seat and settled into the leather front seat. Without saying a word, she pulled the car away from the curb and sped off. She drove for a few blocks in silence and then pulled over in the parking lot of a small park on the edge of town, shutting down the engine.

  “I hoped you still worked here,” Jake said.

  She didn’t look at him. “I was sorry to hear about Anna. I went to her funeral.”

  “For work?”

  “For both work and to pay my respects,” Alexandra said. “We worked together a few times in the past couple of years. I’m sure she didn’t mention it.”

  “She couldn’t,” Jake said. He’d called Alexandra a couple of times in the last year or so, hoping to keep the relationship going, never knowing when they could help each other.

  “We had to make sure her death had nothing to do with Germany,” she explained.

  They sat for a moment in silence. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from her, other than a friendly face. Perhaps her guidance.

  She turned to him now and said, “You look great. A little tired.”

  “You look well rested and hot as ever.”

  Putting her hand onto his, she simply smiled. After a long silence, where she seemed to be considering her words carefully, she finally said, “I stopped by the hospital to see you after the funeral, but you had just gotten out of surgery. I wish I could have stayed until you woke.”

  He squeezed down on her hand. “That was nice of you. It was a hard, long stay in the hospital. Probably harder than anything I’ve ever had to endure.”

  “I know what Anna meant to you.”

  Neither of them mentioned that he and Anna would get married in the near future, but Jake felt that she knew.

  “Now,” she said, “what brings you to Pullach?”

  “I needed to see a friendly face,” he said seriously.

  “No doubt. Considering all those trying to kill you.”

  Jake’s brows rose. “So you know.”

  “Of course. Since I was tagged as an associate of yours, our internal investigations unit has questioned me. Which is why you have become Cousin Johann.”

  “You have a Cousin Johann,” Jake said. “Gunter Schecht’s youngest. But he’s only thirty-two. And I hear he’s gay.”

  She laughed. “He’s married with two children. A book editor in Berlin.”

  “I knew that,” Jake lied.

  They stared at each other, Jake studying her stunning beauty. She had almost no make-up on and needed none at all. Her hair was now a different shade, almost a dark auburn, whereas it had been much more blonde the last time he saw her. He had known Alexandra longer than Anna, having worked with her when Jake was with the Agency in Germany for many years. There had always been sexual tension between them, but neither of them had been unencumbered. Until now.

  “You think your own agency might have your phone tapped?” Jake asked her.

  “I don’t trust that they don’t. I got a call this morning updating me on you. They say you killed a man in a gasthaus in St. Anton.”

  “They got it part right. Two Serbs tried to kill me at the gasthaus and I shot them.”

  “And then?”

  He shrugged. “I took their car and then acquired some intel.”

  “What did the second man tell you?”

  “A lie.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because when I asked him who hired him, he said it was Gunter Schecht. We both know that’s not true.”

  She bit her lower lip and nodded her head. “There could be more than one Gunter Schecht. It’s not that uncommon.”

  Jake had thought of that. He simply shook his head.

  The two of them had never discussed how Jake had killed her uncle, but she had told him she had read the Polizei report. As far as Jake knew, she held no ill feelings toward him. But he felt now he had to say something.

  “I’m sorry, Alexandra. I had no choice but to shoot Gunter. He would have killed me.”

  She squeezed down on his hand. “I know. He had a hard time after leaving the Service. Got in with the wrong people.”

  “Retirement has been hard for a lot of Cold Warriors,” Jake assured her. “There was always one bad guy to focus on back then—the Evil Empire. Black and white. Since then things have become shades of gray.”

  “I know.” Her eyes drifted out the window beyond Jake, contemplatively. “I’ve been ordered to report any contact with you.”

  Jake pulled his hand away from hers. “I guess we shouldn’t be touching then.”

  She slapped his arm. “I don’t always do as I’m told.” Turning the key and starting the engine, she added, “I think I need to bring my cousin to lunch.”

  He couldn’t deny her that.

  After a late lunch the two of them drove back to her apartment, where Jake took a long nap on her sofa. When he woke it was dark outside. Checking his watch, it was ten p.m. He was disoriented and confused, two things he hated more tha
n anything. Sitting up on the sofa he glanced about the gloomy room. Alexandra had only a few personal items on display here. He’d been so tired after lunch he hadn’t noticed any of those items when he first came into the room. Also not like him. He got up now and wandered to a tall table against one wall where family pictures were displayed. One showed Alexandra in a German Army uniform standing next to a Leopard 2 tank. Another was of her as a young girl in a school uniform with twenty or so classmates. Then Jake saw a familiar face. He picked up a photo of a teenaged Alexandra standing rather awkwardly next to a younger Gunter Schecht. Gunter would have been in the BND, German Intelligence, at the time. He was wearing a suit that accentuated his muscular physique. Jesus, Gunter. What happened to you?

  “You’re awake,” Alexandra said, startling Jake.

  He set the photo down. “Yeah, I really needed that.”

  She stepped closer to him and saw the photo he’d been viewing. “He was a good man at one time,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Don’t say it,” she said.

  “I was just going to mention how cute you looked in that school outfit.” He smiled broadly at her.

  She rose her brows seductively. “I think I still have that in my closet.”

  “You’ve grown, though.”

  Her eyes shot down to his pants. “I think you have, too.”

  Neither said a word for a moment, Jake unsure of the situation.

  She took his hand and pulled him toward the back rooms, which Jake had not seen yet. “You need to make love to me right now. Get rid of the sexual tension between us.”

  He cleared his throat and forced out, “You mean there’s sexual tension?”

  “From the moment we first met years ago,” she said. “If I hadn’t been undercover at the time, I would have jumped you then. Of course you were not available at the time. And then later you ended up going in another direction with Anna. But each time we talked, each time we e-mailed, each time we saw each other in the past couple of years, I felt the tension.”

  He couldn’t deny that fact either. If he’d not been with Anna, he was sure they would have done something about this much sooner.

  Now they reached her bedroom, which was dark except for a few candles. She had anticipated this, he thought. They stood a few feet apart and she slowly disrobed, dropping her clothes at her feet. When she was completely naked, she stood for a moment allowing Jake to admire her perfectly toned body. He’d imagined what she’d look like and his thoughts had been right on. She was gorgeous. And it had been quite a while for him. Not since the morning Anna had been shot. Jesus, could he really do this? Wasn’t it too soon?

  She backed to the bed and crawled onto the feather covering, her eyes never leaving Jake and imploring him to remove his clothes.

  He could feel the blood flowing through him. Knew he was ready for her. Slowly, he dropped his own clothing into a pile at his feet. When he finally slipped his underwear off, she gazed at his nakedness and held her hand out for him to join her. Jake slid into bed next to her. Their first time would be fast and furious. Before he could think again about the consequences. Then, if there was a second encounter, they would take their time. He compartmentalized again, shoving all other thoughts from his mind. It’s the only way he could feel right now. The only way to break loose and be alive again. She could do this for him, and he had to let her.

  9

  Berlin, Germany

  When Anton Zukov first heard the Turk wanted to make claim to killing Jake Adams, he had to admit to himself that this was a fortunate turn of events. After all, the Turk and his partner, who had reportedly been killed by Adams in his Innsbruck apartment a couple days ago, had obviously failed to kill the man. Otherwise Zukov would have never sent the Serbs to finish the job in St. Anton. But perhaps the Turk thought he was stupid and didn’t know this. Maybe he thought he could still collect on the one million Euros. Regardless, it had been a perfect opportunity to add to the chaos in Berlin. Keep his friend at the Polizei busy.

  He’d never set up meetings at the same location twice, and he secretly wondered if he would eventually run out of good places. Not likely. Berlin was full of shadowy locations. Remnants from the past. But he’d decided to change up one thing—the drop site.

  Now, an hour to midnight, Zukov had watched as the young Turk got off the U-bahn at the Karl-Marx-Strasse stop on the U7 line, a random selection on his part and not some Communist inclination. He stayed back a block in his Audi A3, his night vision improved with the Russian Army night vision goggles.

  The Turk kept looking over his shoulder and then back ahead as he shuffled along the nearly deserted streets, moving with caution but purpose to the meeting place he had been told about on the internet.

  As his target went down a narrow street between two large brick buildings, Zukov put the car in gear and slowly pulled out. He glanced for a moment at the fake arm cast with the gun hidden inside. Maybe it was time to change his methods as well. He needed to talk with the Turk. More than anything, he hated liars. Adams was still alive. But maybe the Turk actually thought he’d killed the American. He’d give him the benefit of the doubt until he doubted his benefit. That time could be soon enough.

  Zukov went around the block and stopped when he saw the Turk come out from the other side of the buildings and make his way into the little park. Scanning the area with his NVGs, he didn’t see another person anywhere. Just a few cars drove along the busier road a few blocks across the park. But nothing to concern him. After all, this was just a talk he reminded himself.

  The Turk stopped in the center of the park and immediately swiveled his head about trying to analyze his surroundings.

  Pulling forward, Zukov turned left and found a parking space at the curb, shutting down the car and lights. He took off the NVGs and set them on the seat next to him.

  Finesse, he told himself. Play with this one a little.

  He got out and walked straight toward the Turk, his pace and stride intentionally subdued and subservient. He even purposely played with his watch cap, as if he himself was nervous. When he got just a few feet from the man, the Turk held up his hand for him to stop there—still five feet away.

  Knowing their only common language was German, Zukov said, “Do you want your one million Euros?”

  The Turk nodded his head. “Ja. Where is it?”

  “Can you prove Jake Adams is dead?” Zukov stepped forward a little bit.

  “My partner was killed by the man and then I killed him.”

  “Where?”

  “His apartment in Innsbruck.”

  Zukov anticipated this answer. He raised his bushy brows until they touched his watch cap. Moving forward slightly as he spoke, he said, “When was this?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I was there,” the man spouted vehemently.

  Okay. Doubt had run out. Another step forward. “So, then how could Jake Adams have killed two more of my men later that same evening near St. Anton?”

  Hesitation. “I don’t know. I know I shot him.”

  “Where is the proof?”

  “Show me the Geld and I show you the proof.”

  “Show me the proof and I show you the money.”

  They stared at each other, the Turk uncomfortable and Zukov with a slight smirk on his face. But in the darkness he didn’t think the man would notice. Time to stop with the games.

  “You have no proof,” Zukov said, “because Adams is still alive. He assaulted a German Polizei officer in Garmish this morning. Interpol has a Red Notice out on the man. They don’t put out a notice like that if the man is dead.”

  The Turk’s eyes shifted side to side, like a cat looking for a way out of a cage.

  “I’m sorry,” the Turk said desperately. “Give me another chance.”

  Zukov simply stared at the man, letting him sweat for a while. “All right.” He reached into his jacket and the man nearly bolted away. �
�Hang on. It’s just a piece of paper. Possible location of Adams.” He held out a folded piece of paper and waited for the Turk to come closer. They were now just an arm-length away.

  As the Turk reached for the paper, Zukov grasped the man’s wrist, twisted and brought the smaller man to his knees, a burst of agony spewing from his mouth in Turkish. Then with one smooth motion, Zukov put the man in a sleeper hold. At that point he could either simply let the man drift off to sleep or take his life away by suffocating him. But with one twist of his upper body, the Turk’s neck snapped and his limp body dangled beneath him. There was always a third option. He smiled and let the man’s body drop to the ground.

  Without further thought, Zukov shoved the flyer for the bar back into his pocket and strolled to his car. Once inside the car, he glanced about the park again. Still nobody. But he knew by morning many people would use the park to cut across on their way to work, to school and to catch the U-bahn. The body would be found much faster and his friend Vogler would have to wonder a couple things. First, was this dead man related to those who had been shot and dumped in the Spree River? And if so, why the change in method?

  Zukov would like to be a little creature in the Polizei officer’s mind when the synapses went off wondering these things. The electricity in Vogler’s brain would light every building surrounding the park for a week. Maybe Zukov would have to set his alarm to watch from afar.

  With a huge smile on his face, he started his car and drove away slowly.

  10

  Toni Contardo flew in the CIA Gulfstream from the U.S. to Iceland, refueled, and then direct to Innsbruck, where a car waited for her on the tarmac, a dark metallic blue Opel Vectra. She’d long ago learned how to sleep on these flights to avoid jet lag, but for some reason she was still tired as she drove and parked out front of Jake’s apartment along the Inn River. With the time change, it was just after midnight, the street lit only by old-style lamp posts.

  She had to admit she had no idea where Jake could be, but she also knew that this was the only tie she had to him. He might have left some clue behind.