Mothers And Daughters Pt 04

Pay Day

When Nate awoke the clock read 6:11 on Tuesday morning. He had a memory of briefly waking earlier sometime in the night, and both Briana and Pavlina were sleeping on either side of him, facing him, and both their arms were draped over his chest. Now both girls were facing away from him. Being in the middle meant Nate had to choose someone to crawl over, and this time he chose Briana. If Nate woke her as he crawled over her, she didn't let it show. He fixed the duvet to cover her up, picked out his clothes with a fresh pair of underwear, and went downstairs.

Nate dressed in the living room, and then started a coffee. While the espresso brewed he went to his office and opened his personal laptop, and searched the local news. It was already posted on several outlets, although very little information was available. A body was found near St Michael's Lutheran Church. Police are investigating. Nate found three separate stories that all said the same thing. There was no mention of weapons found, and certainly no mention of an oversized sex toy. "This one's for Stephanie," Nate spoke solemnly to himself. He realized it was a long time since he said that. He made a mental note: that bumped it up to a total of 27.

It is increasingly difficult for police to contain information about urban crime scenes. People are involved – someone finds the body, and they text or twitter about it, and the people who read those messages share the news onward, and by the time the police arrive, a crowd is hovering over the scene. Everyone on the scene has already taken dozens of pictures and videos, and many have posted them to the Internet. And there is always at least one person in the crowd eager to talk to the press.

If the three knives were still on the scene when the body was found, that fact would have appeared in the initial news reports, if only as from an unconfirmed source. The absence of any weapons in the news reports left Nate with two conclusions. Either someone happened across the body and stole the knives, or more likely, the injured Romanians picked up the knives and dildo before they left the scene.

It made sense for the Romanians to take the weapons with them. First, there's fingerprints and DNA. They also knew that, without the weapons, the police have nothing more than a suspicious death on their hands. Not to mention the Romanians would consider it poor form to leave a perfectly good weapon behind.

The coroner will report that, aside from the fatal blow to the back of the head caused when the deceased struck the edge of the bottom stone step, there are no recent fractures, contusions, stab wounds, or lacerations to indicate foul play. There would be no scrapes or bruises suggesting he fell or was pushed down the steps. The police will suspect he fell backwards, or was pushed over the railing, leaving more questions than answers. They will definitely investigate, especially if the deceased is known to the police.

The police will discount suicide – the stairwell is too shallow a drop to assure success, which means his death was either an unlucky accident, or a homicide. The lack of fingerprints indicates someone didn't want to be connected to the scene. While it is theoretically possible the deceased wiped the scene clean before falling to his own death, the police will discredit that likelihood. By the time the police arrived at the scene, the railing would have been contaminated by palm prints and fingerprints from spectators and the original person(s) who found the body. A good detective would take elimination prints from everyone known to have been in contact with the scene, and will conclude the railing had been wiped down.

Another thought occurred to Nate. The Romanians most likely removed any identification, possessions, money, drugs, or articles that could connect the deceased to Keeger and his boss. The lack of personal belongings on the body would further intrigue the investigators.

A dead body devoid of all personal belongings, found under suspicious circumstances in a public space that is wiped clean of fingerprints is a red flag. The police will suspect foul play, and they will investigate the death methodically and meticulously, knowing the tiniest of clues could be the one that breaks the case wide open. And there was nothing Nate could do to stop it.

Nate poured himself a coffee in the kitchen, and returned to his office. He checked the clock on the laptop – it was 6:32 on Tuesday morning. Nate picked up his cell phone and pulled Henry Taggart's mobile number from his contact list, and dialed.

"Taggart" Henry answered with command authority after the first ring.

"Henry, it's Nate," Nate opened in German. Nate knew Henry Taggart checked the call display before answering, but some old habits die hard. Henry always confirmed the identity of the person before engaging in a conversation. Henry recognized Nate's voice right away

"Nate – long time," Henry replied in German, and then switched to fluent English with a German accent. "Good to hear from you. I'm on my way to work – late for meeting. Can I call you back." Nate could hear Henry's marching footsteps on the concrete sidewalk over the background din of the street traffic. Henry lived seven blocks from his office, and walked every day.

"This will take 30 seconds. Can we meet today?"

"Lunch?" Henry asked.

"No," Nate countered, "your office." Henry paused as he checked his smartphone calendar.

"Ten thirty," Henry announced.

"See you then," Nate agreed, and disconnect the call.

Nate locked his laptop screen and went upstairs. He retrieved his gym bag, and put on some socks and shoes. He left 20 Euros and a note for the girls in German:

B & P – Gone out for the morning. You can leave the apartment if you want, but you can't get back in until I come back. Go across the street for some coffee – they have good pastries and sandwiches there. I left you €20. I will meet you around noon. – N

The girls were still asleep when Nate left at seven. He walked to his nearby gym for an overdue workout. The last time he was in the gym was Friday morning. If last night proved anything, it was staying in good physical condition is essential. Nate knew most men his age did not have the strength or skills to defend himself as well as he did last night. While Nate was no longer the lean, mean fighting machine he was in his prime combat years, he owed his command performance last night to maintaining a steady fitness regime.

Nate left the gym at nine after showering and changing back into his street clothes, and walked to the elevated Baumwall subway station with his gym bag, and he was lucky to step on to an eastbound train without waiting. He exited two stops later at the underground Rathaus station, near city hall. He found a coffee shop, and waited for his bank to open at ten. Nate withdrew 5,000 Euro in 100 Euro bills.

Henry Taggart's office was three blocks from city hall. He was in his office when Nate arrived on time. Henry pushed the door closed. They conducted the entire meeting in English. Nate told Henry everything, from the beginning when he met Briana and Pavlina in the park, including their Foreign National Equitable Treatment (AeB) status, the sex agreement, everything – right up to the night before when Nate and the girls went to the Italian restaurant. Henry knew the restaurant – he had been there once with his wife, but the balcony table was already occupied, so Henry and his wife dined indoors.

Nate calmly told Henry every detail of his encounter with the knife wielding, dildo menacing Romanian gang. "Jesus, Nate" Henry whistled in astonishment. "Three armed men take you on, and you put all three in the hospital."

"Only two are in the hospital." Nate corrected, and explained the morning news report of the dead body.

"Ah," Henry tilted his head back as he absorbed the implications of this development. "That changes the situation." Henry went online with Nate looking over his shoulder, and found the same news report. There were no further updates.

"There is no mention of the weapons," Henry observed. Nate offered his theory that the Romanians took them. Nate speculated the Romanians probably took the dead man's belongings, and perhaps even sanitized the scene beyond Nate's quick fingerprint rubdown. Henry nodded in agreement with Nate's theories.

"It seems odd to me these three men just happened to be there on a quiet holiday evening," Henry observed.

"I don't think it was a coincidence," Nate offered. "I think they, or one of them, saw us dining up there on that open balcony, late on a holiday evening when everything else was closed. They probably know the restaurant was overdue to close. I'm guessing one guy saw me with two young, attractive women, and he called his buddies for backup. I've been in enough ambushes to know what one feels like." More accurately, Nate thought to himself, he was on the ambushing side far more often than he defended an ambush.

"Sounds like they ambushed the wrong man," Henry offered wryly. He paused for a moment in thought before changing subjects. "You know that if the women go to the police, even as witnesses, there is a good chance their AeB status will be revoked, and who knows how long they will be remanded in custody. The police may want to keep them close for their value as witnesses in this incident. They may have to testify in a trial." He paused. "Their description of their sexual relationship with you could depict you as a predator," he cautioned. "The way you describe it, I think you are in the clear, but it has potential for a grey area," Henry assessed, meaning the girls could turn it into a "he said / she said" case if they accuse Nate of forcing them into the relationship and sex with him.

"That's only half the problem," Nate agreed. "Forget the girls for a moment. German prosecutors have been too keen to go after foreigners. Just look at the AeB program."

"Yes," Henry knew exactly where Nate was going. "You must have a watertight strategy before you talk to the police." Nate nodded, and began discussing options with his lawyer. Henry warned Nate he was not a criminal or an AeB lawyer, and he was not the best person to advise Nate. Nate countered that Henry was competent enough, and besides, Nate did not need a criminal lawyer, not yet anyway. Besides, Nate argued, it was better to keep the circle of insiders to an absolute minimum. Henry agreed, and by noon, Nate and Henry had mapped out a plan that would cover all the bases, including the girls.

Nate took the subway train west to the Landungsbrucken station, and walked to the coffee shop across the street from his apartment building carrying his gym bag. The girls were sitting at a sidewalk table chatting over empty coffee cups. Briana was wearing her blue pinstripe short sleeve shirt and black skirt. Pavlina wore two-tone blue shirt that ties off at the waist and her tube skirt. The ensemble flaunted Pavlina's flat tummy. Nate ordered coffees for the three of them, and joined the girls at the table at 12:30.

"Are you okay?" Briana asked compassionately. They spoke in English. "I mean your ... you know," she said sheepishly, referring to his bruised gonads.

"Oh, sure," Nate waved her concern off. "The boys are a wee tender," Nate smiled, "but they'll be riding in the saddle soon, just you wait," he feigned a southern cowboy drawl.

"I feel so bad about last night. I really am sorry."

"It's not your fault. I caused it. You experienced something called transference," Nate commentated. "You channeled all your rage for that Romanian, and transferred it onto me. It is a useful therapeutic measure," he assured her.

"Well, I am still sorry," Briana repeated.

As they sipped their coffee, Nate scanned the street and café, and when he was confident no one was paying attention, he lowered his hand between Briana's thighs and slipped it northward, underneath her short skirt, until his fingertips found home. Briana shot nervous glances everywhere, but no one was looking while Nate tickled his finger up and down the thin fabric of her thong underwear.

"Here?" Briana demanded in a quiet whisper after Nate withdrew his hand.

"Just curious what you were wearing," Nate answered casually in German. Pavlina was watching intently.

"We're outdoors," Briana reminded him of the obvious. "We're allowed," she objected defensively.

Nate nodded, and took another sip of coffee. "As I said, just curious," he repeated in English.

"Feeling better now?" Briana she asked sarcastically in German.

"Much better," Nate replied in German. The rest of the conversation continued in German.

"How did you learn to speak German so well," Briana asked.

"I was stationed in Germany for three years. That was before I met you ... before you started looking after Sarah and Dillon."

"And you were doing counter-terrorism then?" Briana asked.

Nate put his finger to his lips. "We don't talk about that in public."

"But you will finger my pussy in public," Briana shot back in an English whisper.

"Yup!" Nate nodded, smiling. "No national security risk there," Nate quipped in German. Briana dropped her eyes to her coffee.

"Speaking of not talking in public," Pavlina interrupted in German, "this morning we talked a long time about last night – we were in your apartment. Not out here."

"Good," Nate approved.

"We have some questions for you, or at least I do." Just then Nate's cell phone rang. He checked the call display – it was Henry. As part of their plan, as soon as Nate left Henry's law firm, Henry's firm booked a room at the Steigenberger Hotel, and was sending someone to go over to the hotel and check in. Henry explained on the phone that Nate was to meet the law firm employee at a rendezvous point he selected at 2:15, and the employee will give Nate the keys. They discussed a few security logistics. Nate checked his watch. It was 1:10 in the afternoon. He thanked Henry and hung up.

"I can answer your questions at the hotel," Nate told Pavlina in German.

She looked perplexed. "What hotel?"

"The hotel we are going to now," Nate answered.

"Why are we going to a hotel?" Briana asked in English.

"We will discuss that at the hotel," Nate cautioned in English as he gestured around the public space they were sitting in. "You stay here," Nate said to both girls in German. "I will go to the apartment to get your things. I'll be back in 20 minutes." Nate left a 20 Euro bill on the table in case the girls wanted to order another coffee and snack, took his gym bag, and walked across the street to his apartment building.

Inside the apartment, Nate gathered all the girls' clothing, which wasn't a lot, including the original clean clothing and shoes they wore when Nate met them in the park. He tossed their clothing in a small suitcase. He unlocked his desk drawer in his office and retrieved their two AeB declarations, and a professional grade Nikon camera.

For himself, Nate packed some pants and shirts with some underwear and socks in a suitcase. He picked several recreational sex toys from his bedside table drawers for some hotel fun. From the bathroom he took his shaving kit and some personal items. He dropped all those items in the suitcase, together with his camera. In his office he loaded both his work and personal laptop in a carrying case, and zipped both AeB declarations in a side pouch of the laptop case.

Nate locked up the apartment and returned to the café carrying the suitcase and his laptop case. The girls were halfway through another coffee, so he joined them.

They left the café and walked up the gentle slope in the park just before two in the afternoon. They normally would have taken the route they took last night, through the narrow twisty roads, and they would have walked right past the courtyard where they were attacked, but Nate circumnavigated around the area, staying three blocks away from the courtyard at all times. They crossed the busy Ludwig Efhard Street and walked down a cement pathway that ran beside a Hamburg canal. Few people are aware the city of Hamburg has more canals than Amsterdam and Venice combined, Nate explained to the girls as they walked. He noted Hamburg is sometimes called the city of bridges, owing to both the hundreds of crossings over the canals and the Elbe River. Even though Hamburg is 100 kilometers inland, Nate continued his guided tour, Hamburg is Germany's largest port, and the second busiest port in all of Europe.

They arrived at the Steigenberger Hotel, itself situated on a major canal. But they did not enter the hotel. Instead they crossed over the canal bridge, walked under an overhead subway train bridge, and crossed Rodingsmarkt Road and entered a Starbucks coffee shop. Nate pulled his wheeled suitcase into the café with his laptop case strapped over his shoulder. It was 2:12 by Nate's cell phone – he was 3 minutes early, which by German standards, he was nearly late. He spied an attractive blonde woman in her late twenties – classic Aryan German – straight blonde hair, blue eyes, chiseled high cheek bones – she could have been a model, but she wore a professional dark blue business suit – a knee-length skirt and matching blazer over a prim white blouse. She sat alone facing the door, and she scanned their faces as Nate and the girls entered the café. Her eyes met Nate's, and he walked toward her.

"Are you Mr. Oxford?" she asked Nate in German.

"No, I am looking for my wife. Her name is Indira," he answered, also in German. Back in Henry's office, Nate and Henry had settled on these foreign code words, since Nate did not know Henry's lovely assistant. Old fashioned cloak and dagger tactics still work.

As the woman stood – she was nearly as tall as Nate. Briana and Pavlina caught up with Nate in the coffee shop. The professional woman didn't try to hide her up-and-down once over of the two young, skimpily dressed girls, and then looked back to Nate. "Your package, Sir," she stood up and handed Nate a plain, unmarked envelope.

"Thank you," he replied, and the woman raised her chin before walking past the girls without another word, and she disappeared out the Starbucks door.

Having had enough coffee for one morning, Nate and the girls retreated from the coffee shop without buying anything, and retraced their steps across the canal to the Steigenberger Hotel. They entered the main doors and Nate strode with purpose past the front desk and aimed for the elevators. The girls followed. He pressed the elevator call button, and a car opened its doors right away. Once inside the elevator, Nate opened the envelope the blue eyed blonde assistant gave him. There were three electronic room key cards, and a Steigenberger Hotel welcome card with room number 727 written on it. Nate pressed the seventh floor call button, and found his way to their room with the girls following. He unlocked the door with a card, and ushered the girls into the room. "Welcome to your new home," Nate announced as he closed and locked the door behind him.

The oversized King bed seemed to fill half of the odd pie-shaped room. One long wall was normal, but the opposite long wall tapered toward the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the room, creating an unbalanced, blunt, triangular shaped room with the floor-to-ceiling window rounding off the point of the triangle. Nate pulled back the curtains to a window, and immediately recognized the view of the Rodingsmarkt district and the elevated train they just walked under. He could see the Starbucks logo on the building far below, where they had rendezvoused with Henry's tall, Aryan assistant. The elevated vantage point offered a bird's eye view of Hamburg's intricate canal system Nate had described during their walk earlier in the day.