State Of The Union

“I don’t know,” answered Harvath, just as frustrated as Herman. “There’s got to be something here. Something that someone didn’t want us to find.”

“That, or they knew people were going to come looking for your friend and they wanted to stop them.”

“Either way, we’ve got to search the apartment again.”

“Well, we’d better search fast. According to Sebastian, the Polizei are already on their way.”

Chapter 18

After another quick search of the apartment proved fruitless, Harvath, Toffle, and the rest of the MEK operatives had quietly stolen out of the building and fanned out in separate directions just as the first police cars began arriving on the scene to secure both ends of the Goltzstrasse.

Two hours later, they had met back up at their prearranged rallying point-a half-empty Bierstube on the eastern side of the city.

Sitting with the men at a quiet table in back, Harvath stared blankly at the old German movie posters covering the walls, stained a deep yellow from years of nicotine accumulation. He couldn’t help but feel that he had let Lawlor down by not finding anything of use in the apartment.

The men made small talk as they unwound and kept the waitress busy going back and forth for beers and shots of Jägermeister. The cold, caramel-colored liquor warmed Harvath’s stomach and, mixed with the strong German beer was beginning to deaden the throbbing pain coursing up and down his left side. It felt like he had been hit by a tank.

His mind drifted to what Meg had said back in his apartment in Alexandria. The idea that Harvath might have devoted most of his adult life chasing the elusive respect of his father was something he didn’t feel comfortable wrestling with. That in turn made him wonder about Meg. Things had moved quickly between them, and he began to wonder if maybe they had moved along too quickly. A feeling of hopelessness was beginning to well up inside him. Suddenly, he caught himself.What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t like him. He needed to get his head back in the game.Concentrate on the assignment, he told himself. People always leave clues-it’s just a matter of looking hard enough until you find them. He needed to uncover a lead, something that would help them find Gary.

Sebastian was talking on his cell phone as Herman raised his empty glass to get the waitress’s attention and said, “What do you want to do next?”

“What can we do?” replied Harvath. “The way I see it, the only option we have now is to canvass the neighborhood and see if anyone remembers seeing Gary.”

“That’s a lot of work,” said Herman, “and it could draw a lot of attention.”

“It might not be necessary,” said Sebastian, folding up his phone and placing it back in his pocket.

“Why not?” said Harvath.

“You’ll see. Follow me.”

As Harvath stood in the parking lot behind the Bierstube, he tried to find some way of keeping warm other than stomping his feet, which sent shudders of pain through his left side. Sebastian explained that he had been on his cell phone with his operative from the café across from the Capstone apartment building. Apparently, the man had something he wanted them to see. When Harvath asked what it was, Sebastian smiled and held up his index finger in a gesture that said, “Be patient.”

Moments later, a pair of bright halogen headlights came slicing into the lot and headed right toward them. They belonged to a brown BMW, which skidded to a stop directly in front of where they were standing. The driver climbed out of the car, walked over and shook hands with Sebastian and Herman. They spoke in rapid-fire German that was too fast for Harvath to understand. Finally, the driver motioned for Harvath to follow him.

“Sorry to have missed all the fun,” said the man, with only a trace of a German accent, as they walked around to the trunk of his car. “My name is Max.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Harvath, as they shook hands.

When they reached the trunk, Max pressed a button on his keyless entry device and the trunk popped open.

Harvath leaned forward to peer inside only to have Max say, “Be careful, he bites. Although we are working on that, aren’t we, Heinrich?”

The man lying on the floor of the trunk was dressed like a waiter, and as he began to sit up he let loose with a string of colorful German expletives, most of which, from what Harvath could gather, were directed at Max’s mother.

Max responded by slamming the lid of the trunk down on Heinrich’s head.

“What’s this all about?” asked Scot, as Max raised the lid again, revealing a somewhat stunned Heinrich who looked like he was ready to shoot his mouth off again, yet might be thinking better of it.

Max leaned in and grabbed Heinrich’s face between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing the man’s lips into a tight pucker that made him look like a fish. “Heinrich has a little present for you.”

“Let me guess. Did he see something?”