Brandenburg by Glenn Meade Read Free Book Online Page B

concrete as the giant aircraft touched down.
    •   •   •
    The man—his name was Meyer—retrieved his suitcase from the carousel and passed unquestioned through customs twenty minutes later.
    In the arrivals area, a tall, blond young man who stood out from the waiting crowd held a placard stiffly in front of him: Pieter De Beers. Meyer stepped forward and the young man took his suitcase and beckoned for him to follow.
    A Mercedes stood parked nearby, its black bodywork muddied, and he saw the three men waiting inside. Schmidt sat impassively like a rock in front, and the two men reclined in the back.
    Both wore immaculate business suits, and both smiled when they saw Meyer.
    One was young, in his middle thirties, and wore a light-gray suit. He was stockily built, and his dark hair glistened. Not handsome, but ruggedly attractive, and his broad face was deeply tanned from years in the sun.
    The second man was old, his wrinkled face handsome. His silver-gray hair was more silver than gray and was combed back. He was tall, and had the look of a self-assured diplomat. He wore a charcoal-gray business suit, a white shirt, and a red silk tie, and his gentle blue eyes radiated confidence and charisma. He raised a hand and smiled again as Meyer approached.
    The blond young man put Meyer’s suitcase in the trunk, and Schmidt got out to open the rear door for him.
    When Meyer slid into the backseat, the two passengers shook his hand in turn.
    “You had a good flight, Johannes?” the silver-haired man asked.
    “Ja, danke.” As he turned to the younger, dark-haired man, he said, “Any problems?”
    Kruger glanced at him and shook his head. “No, but some bad news.”
    “Oh?” said Meyer, feeling uneasy now, wondering if it had anything to do with the project. It couldn’t, he told himself. Everything was in order, he was absolutely certain.
    “We’ll talk about it on the way, Johannes,” said Kruger as he leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder.
    “The hotel, Kurt.”
    As the car started and pulled out from the curb, Meyer sat back, dabbing his forehead and silently cursing the heat, wondering what the bad news could be.
    •   •   •
    Rudi Hernandez was tired; he had been up until two that morning. Ricardo Torres had not arrived with the equipment until twelve-thirty, and it had taken him another hour to explain how to set it up.
    “It’s only a loan, okay? Make sure it all comes back in one piece,” Torres had said. “Otherwise, my boss kicks me out on my butt, and I’m selling nuts outside the city zoo, comprende?”
    Comprende.
    The equipment was expensive. Torres had gone over the operation of the components with him, asking when he had finished, as he had when Hernandez had first telephoned him, “What you going to do with all this, amigo?”
    Hernandez had smiled enigmatically and said, “Undercover work.”
    Torres had looked at him, one eyebrow arched. “Okay. But any damage, you pay, sí? Just remember that, Rudi.”
    Hernandez said there was no problem. He just needed to borrow the stuff for one night. He would return it intact.
    He had gone to work early at La Tarde, finished at three, and driven straight to the apartment. He already had everything organized but went over it one more time so there would be no mistakes, no hitches.
    There was a chance that the meeting at the Excelsior was simply a business conference. In which case he was going to a lot of trouble for nothing. On the other hand, he knew he could be putting himselfin serious danger. Rodriguez was dead. And before he died, he had been very worried.
    So , he thought, if it’s only a business meeting, then I have nothing to worry about. If it’s something more interesting, then my plan had better work .
    If it didn’t, he figured he was in big trouble, unless he could get out of the hotel fast. He remembered the fire exit on the first floor that led down to the rear of the hotel. A bolt-hole. He might need