Ghosts of the Past Read online

  Knabel was there only to rehab a career ending Achilles tendon injury suffered in the trenches of an NFL Europe game with the Rhein Fire. His bitterness, and lack of any future job prospects, made him easily agreeable to follow Marshall’s call, doing whatever necessary to keep cash in his pockets. Ironically, his street smarts, garnered from the various stays in orphanages and foster homes growing up in northern Germany, proved to be of great value in the so-called “security” functions he had been asked to perform in the name of Sturtzburn.

  Marshall’s coded mobile phone rang twice, before he recovered from his semi-conscious state to catch it on the third ring.

  “Ja?” Marshall shifted the phone from his left ear to his right, while he listened to the one-way conversation streaming from the other end.

  Knabel groggily awoke from his short nap catching his bearings from the road sign that flashed past his front seat, passenger side window.

  “Ja, Ich verstehen.” Marshall snapped the phone shut.

  “That was Rudi. He has picked them up off the plane, and they have rented a car. One-way to Luzern. He has made our life very easy. With a little help from the rental agent, he managed to get to the car before them and plant a little help on board. He will meet us on the open road to Luzern and give us the receiver. He says the signal is perfect.”

  “Is he following just in case?” Alden asked.

  “He’s within sight. He has the make, model and plate numbers as well.”

  “Beautiful.” Alden smiled and returned his concentration to the road, thinking out loud. “Luzern. A one-way drop off of a rental. That would make sense if it’s around there. They’ll need more than a car if they find what they’re looking for.”

  With Courtney’s help, Ferguson moved beyond the maze of the airport and accelerated on to the A3 on the way south of the city. It was going to be a gorgeous day. The low pressure that had blown through the day before had left the turquoise blue sky cloudless, the only obstructions being the incredible snow capped peaks that poked up out of the mountainous horizon.

  Once they moved to the open road, Courtney pulled her mobile phone from her purse and tapped out her father’s home number. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Sorry to wake you Daddy,” Courtney paused briefly, “No, I’m fine.” There was another pause, “No, everything’s alright. Let me talk, you listen. I’m in Switzerland. I just landed in Zurich.”

  His daughter did not alleviate Grayson Lewis’ concern, and he continued to interrupt, inquiring about her wellbeing.

  “Daddy, please shut up for a minute and let me do the talking. Has anyone tried to contact you? The police in particular.”

  Relieved that he had not been reached by anybody, she was free to summarize her ordeal and bend the truth to allay his apprehension over what she was about to tell him.

  “Well, I’m sure the police will probably try to get in touch with you soon. To put it as simply as I can, someone tried to kill me yesterday. I’m fine, and wasn’t hurt, thanks to a friend”, she looked over at Ferguson, smiled and winked, “but someone else was. A pizza deliveryman was shot and killed in my condo, and the man that was trying to kill me got away. The police are after him, and I thought it best to get out of town for a little vacation until they get him, or they think it’s safe to return.”

  Lewis’s angst was not diminished and his suspicions were there was more to the story than she was telling him, and he told her so.

  “Dad, please relax and listen to me. The police are investigating and I am perfectly fine. When they contact you, let them know that I called, and that I was taking a little vacation overseas and that I would call you when I reach my ultimate destination, which I will. Once I call back, I’ll explain everything to you in more detail. It’s all gonna be fine, please trust me!” One last pause, “Thanks Daddy, I love you!”

  Courtney clicked off the phone and returned it to her purse.

  “That didn’t sound like it went all that well.” Ferguson said.

  “I’ve never been able to lie to my father very well. He’s always had the ability to see through them.” She replied.

  “How does your phone work overseas?”

  “It’s a T-mobile system. It works domestically and internationally.”

  “Cool! Can I borrow that in a little while to contact Shutt? If he doesn’t already know by now, he’s gonna hit the roof when he finds out we’ve skipped the country.” Ferguson chuckled aloud.

  “I’ll be damned! They’ve skipped the country!” Detective Shutt had just hung up the phone from Continental reservations, and was staring at Stewart, his tongue boring a whole inside his left cheek.

  A little over an hour ago, Shutt had asked Shawna to run a check on Ferguson’s and Courtney’s credit cards to see if they could pick up any activity that might reveal their whereabouts. If that did not work, he would move on to next of kin. Both of them had fathers out of town that he would have to speak with. Those calls could wait as of now, since ten minutes ago, they scored a hit on one each of their cards. The resultant information that lay on his desk had raised Shutt’s blood pressure exponentially.

  “I screwed up. We should have gotten into their credit cards sooner.” Shutt shook his head in disgust of himself.

  “Take it easy on yourself Toby, they didn’t kill anybody.” Stewart tried to ease the pain.

  “No, I realize that, but they’re running. Why are they running? They must be telling the truth. They have got something… something big! They said it was information… information that somebody else wants or needs.”

  “Sounds to me like they’re scared, and they’re running away from someone.”

  “It may be more than one. They said there could be more, and I don’t think they’re running scared. I believe they’re trying to solve this thing on their own. They don’t think we can, or they know enough about the situation that they think they can deal with it. They’re trying to figure this out on their own, and part of the answer lies wherever they’re headed.”

  “Switzerland?” Stewart asked incredulously.

  “I think so or somewhere around there. Germany perhaps. Karl was German… very German.”

  Shutt’s phone rang and he picked it up immediately, angrily greeting the inbound caller.

  “Excuse me for interrupting Toby, but I’ve got somebody on the line that I think can shed some light on our John Doe.” Shawna Hammer said excitedly.

  “Excellent. Who is it?”

  “See for yourself, I’m transferring him now.”

  “Detective Shutt?” The man’s voice inquired as the click in the line signaled a change of connection.

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Clark Burkley, I’m with the Justice Department. We had an inquiry that came to our attention that funnels back to your department. You’re looking for an I.D. on a scratchy photo your office has been circulating to everyone and anyone?”

  “That’s correct. Can you help?”

  “We can help. What’s the interest?”

  “He’s a prime suspect in three homicides here in Louisville. Why do you need to know?”

  “Your John Doe is actually a man by the name of Gerhard Alden. He goes by the alias’ Thomas Michaels and Irwin Jones. He generally has been traveling as Jones in the U.S. He owns and operates a so-called ‘security company’ in Berlin. The company offers expert advice on personal and corporate security matters, including personal protection, computer system security and industrial espionage. He does contract work for a number of reputable and not so reputable firms and individuals, mainly in Germany and the Middle East.

  He managed to generate a criminal record in Germany for being somewhat overzealous in a few of his personal security duties. Nothing major, but enough to have two criminal indictments and one conviction, and to keep the l
ocal law enforcement agencies interested. In fact, that interest bore fruit as Alden’s activities began to take on an international flavor. Besides Western Europe, he began frequenting the Middle East, predominantly Syria and Egypt, and made some trips stateside. That has also peaked the interest of some of our overseas intelligence communities, as well as the FBI and Justice. The CIA has also made some inquiries pertaining to our friend, Mr. Alden.”

  Shutt was busy scribbling notes as Burkley rambled on. “Are we going somewhere with this Mr. Burkley?”

  “If you’ll show a little patience detective, I’m about ready to connect the dots.”

  Shutt decided that no response to the attempt at admonishment was warranted, and he waited for several seconds in silence for Burkely to start again.

  “Thank you detective,” Burkley said sarcastically. “As I was saying, Alden’s international endeavors involved on and off contact with some very nefarious individuals, many of whom have direct and indirect links with some nasty terrorist organizations. We believe he may be operating as an intelligence intermediary or a financial courier for international supporters of Islamic fundamentalist terrorist groups in the Middle East, and white supremacy organizations operating in the U.S.

  “It’s no secret that there are still factions within Germany, many with roots back to the old Nazi regime from World War II, that have the financial resources to back organizations still bent on destroying Israel, and the Jewish population in general. These factions run the gamut from low life’s, to some of the most important and influential people in Europe, and across the globe. Moreover, they are a very well organized and financed group. There was a particular organization known as O.D.E.S.S.A., which was created at the end of the war, solely for the purpose of aiding and abetting a large number of Nazi leaders, helping them to blend back into mainstream life or flee the country, all with new identities. O.D.E.S.S.A., and subsequent splinter groups, we believe are still viable organizations today, albeit much smaller. Lots of their constituents or members are deceased. However, we also believe they have been actively recruiting for decades, so we assume that there is fresh blood. We also have no other reason to believe that they have not grown financially over the years and have some significant resources to bear. Their missions have changed. They no longer need to protect their own, but instead have focused on renewing the extermination of Jews and the Jewish state.

  “We’re also of the belief that instead of openly using their own organization to further the cause against the Jews, they are utilizing the other terrorist operations out there that are more than willing to do the front line dirty work for large sums of cold, hard cash in return. Are you still with me detective?”

  “I’m lining up the dots as we go.” Shutt fired back.

  “Excellent, because that’s all I have.”

  “So you know the whereabouts of Alden?”

  “Of that, I’m sorry, we don’t. As you can probably surmise, we have never had enough solid evidence against him here in the states to pick him up, and he does a very good job of losing himself once he enters the U.S. We do know he entered the states two weeks ago and we’re trying to confirm if he has departed the country.”

  “Well, let me help. I would say he is long gone from this neck of the woods. He managed to pop off three people here, so I doubt he had plans on stickin’ around.”

  “Well, we’ll do whatever we can to try and help locate him, and get him back for you, if possible.” Burkley replied sincerely.

  “I appreciate any help the Feds can provide. I do have one last question, however. Why is the Justice Department keeping tabs on a guy like Alden?”

  “We’re responsible for tracking down, prosecuting or deporting any suspected Nazi criminals residing in the U.S. We work closely with other international and domestic agencies connected to hunting down and ultimately punishing those Nazi’s responsible for crime against humanity. We also like to keep apprised of the Aryan, skinhead and white supremacy movements domestically. As you might expect, many civil rights issues come into play there. Alden has managed to associate himself with quite a lot of riffraff that covers that realm of interest. Does that help answer your question?”

  “Indeed. So if I have anybody that we come across that we might suspect as being a Nazi, particularly from World War II, or a white racist you can help?” Shutt inquired, immediately making the mental connection of Dr. Karl, Syron and Nieron with what he had just heard.

  “It’s possible”, replied Burkley, “but it can be very difficult in these days and times to prove anything as it relates to the World War II vintage Nazis. Names have changed, identities buried, and very few witnesses are left to help positively identify individuals responsible for atrocities over 50 years ago, but we never say never. You can always try some of the other organizations out there, particularly the Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles. As for the newer breeds of white supremacy groups, we have some considerable resources to bring to the table there. Is there someone you need help with currently?”

  “Thanks! No!” Shutt lied. “I appreciate the info. You will be the first contact if we come across any animals like that. Please let me know if you have any luck tracking Mr. Alden down.”

  “Our pleasure, and we will.”

  The line went dead and Shutt hung up from his end.

  As if on cue, Steve Stewart entered Shutt’s cubicle.

  “Steve, I need you to do me a favor.” Shutt had stood up from his desk and met Stewart at the door.

  “You got it. What do you need?”

  “I’m gonna go talk to the captain and plead my case for a little overseas journey. I need you to find me a contact in the Swiss law enforcement community that can provide me some help in Zurich, and probably around the country. It can be local or federal, I don’t care.”

  “You can’t fool me, this sounds like a little vacation compliments of the department.”

  “Damn you’re good. That must be why you made detective.”

  “I didn’t know you spoke their language in Switzerland, whatever they speak.”

  “I don’t. I think they speak a little bit of everything, French, Italian… German. Whoever you find, make damn sure they speak English. Also, requisition me another cell phone, one of those T-mobile units that work overseas. I need to have the option of being in immediate contact with you back here.” Shutt turned left and headed down the hallway to the corner office.

  Stewart obligingly returned to his desk, and after an unsuccessful cursory look in the blue pages of the phone book, he keyed in a search on his computer for the U. S. State Department. A few minutes of research later, he pulled up the contact information for the U. S. Embassy in Bern, Switzerland. Forty-five minutes later, with help from the Consular’s office, he had a contact in the Federal Criminal Police Division of the Federal Office of Police.

  Jean-Luc Daniel, thankfully spoke fluent and very intelligible English. He assured Stewart that he would coordinate with the local authorities in Zurich to assist the Americans with their investigation. Fortunately, his caseload was light at the current time, and he would be able to accompany them to Zurich, and any of the other cantons in the country they needed to visit. Unfortunately, for Stewart, them probably meant only Shutt. He doubted the department had the financial resources to send both of them to Switzerland. In fact, he doubted Shutt would even raise the possibility with the captain of both of them going.

  As it turned out, he was right and wrong. The captain reluctantly agreed to let Shutt go alone. Shutt had asked if he could take Stewart along, but was vehemently denied, and in the process, received the obligatory budget constraints diatribe from the captain, and warnings about keeping his expenditures in check.

  Ironically, and unbeknownst to Shutt, he was booked on the same flight out of Cincinnati to Zurich, that twenty-four hours earlier had carried Courtney and Ferguson to the
same destination.

  Chapter 13

  May 22, 2001. Lucerne, Switzerland.

  The trip to Lucerne had been both beautiful and quick. Much to Ferguson’s surprise, Switzerland was actually a very small landmass, and the 65-kilometer trip from Zurich by car was just under an hour. Very little conversation transpired between the two, as the relaxing beauty of the countryside consumed them both. As they headed south, staying on the National Highways, there was a spectacular mix of rolling green hills that quickly gave way to mountainous foothills, backstopped by the snow-covered Alps rising majestically into the azure sky. Small, lazy villages with pristine, old world architecture, magnificently preserved through centuries of blissful political neutrality, passed by the windows peacefully.

  When Ferguson reached the outskirts of Lucerne, he pulled over to the side of the road, reached into the back seat, and retrieved the black leather carry-on bag that had never left his sight from the time they departed Cincinnati. Milling around inside with his right hand he finally produced a manila file folder labeled “Swiss Travel” in handwritten block print.

  He shuffled through several papers before finally settling on three sheets stapled together that he handed to Courtney, tossing the rest of the papers back in the folder and sliding it down between the seat and center console.

  Courtney accepted them with a look of suspicion. After a quick preview of the top one, she visibly relaxed, casually licked the thumb and forefinger of her right hand and leafed through the remaining two pages, separating them between her remaining fingers.

  “These look pretty nice!” Courtney returned to the first page that described in detail the Grand Hotel National.

  “They should! They are the top hotels in the city. Hell, they’re some of the top hotels in Switzerland! I figure we might as well splurge at the rate we’re going.”