The Hunt

The lock to Jenny’s apartment was shattered, the jamb splintered, the door ajar an inch. His mouth went dry, a sudden jolt charged through his chest.

He swung the door open with the back of his hand. “Jenny?” he said softly.

No answer.

He entered the apartment cautiously.

“Jenny?”

Nothing.

He went down a short entrance hallway and then stopped.

The living room was a shambles. Cushions from sofas and chairs had been ripped open. Little balls of stuffing drifted and swirled idly in the wind from an open window. Drawers hung open with the contents spilled out on the floor.

‘Jenny!”

He raced through the one-bedroom apartment, checking the kitchen, the small dining room and the bedroom. The destruction was thorough. In the bedroom, the mattress was thrown half off the bed and split open. Clothes dangled from half-open drawers and littered the floor of the closet.

The apartment was empty.

‘jenny!” he yelled, knowing there would be no answer.

Who had ransacked the apartment? And where was Jenny? If she was in hiding, how would she contact him? She didn’t even know he was in Berlin.

He went back into the living room. He heard a sound behind him in the darkness of the apartment. Keegan walked slowly across the room, knelt down next to the desk and started to pick up some mail that was scattered on the floor. The floor creaked. He could feel the presence of someone else in the room. He turned slightly and as he did strong arms suddenly grabbed him around the throat in a choke hold.

Keegan slashed back and up with his elbow, buried its sharp point in the groin of his assailant. The man grunted with pain as Keegan stood and spun at the same time, throwing a hard, straight jab into the face of the man. As he did a second man jumped him, wrapping his arms around Keegan’s waist, pinning his arms to his sides. A third man moved swiftly toward Keegan, who raised both legs and kicked him in the stomach, then slammed his head back into the face of the man who was holding him. The man screamed as his nose shattered. Keegan twisted out of his grip and threw a hard uppercut to his jaw. The assailant spun away and fell over a coffee table.

Again Keegan was attacked from the back, powerful arms holding Keegan’s arms in check. A thick cloth was thrust over his face. He choked as chloroform stung his eyes and nose. He tried to hold his breath but he was hit in the stomach and his wind rushed out. The cloth was jammed tighter as he gasped for breath. The room began to spin around. His arms lost their strength and his legs went numb. He was aware he was still struggling but the room seemed to shrink around him and grow darker. He fell backward into a void.

He awoke slowly, as if coming out of a long coma. The smell of chloroform was still on his skin. He was blindfolded and tied to a hard chair. He felt nauseous and he swallowed hard, took several deep breaths. The feeling of malaise slowly dissipated.

“Herr Keegan, I am going to untie your hands and remove the blindfold,” a voice said. “There is a man across the room from me with a gun. If you try to leave the chair, he will kill you.”

The blindfold was pulled off and his hands were untied. He squinted into a blazing spotlight.

‘Jesus,” Keegan groaned as he rubbed the feeling back into his wrists and hands and then shielded his eyes with one hand.

A large man stood silhouetted in front of him, smoking a cigarette. Behind him, another outline, this one smaller and aiming a Luger at him.

“What do you want?” Keegan asked.

“What were you doing in Fraulein Gould’s apartment?”

“Are you the police?”

There was a pause, then: “We are the state police. You are guilty of breaking into the apartment.”

He studied the two shapes more closely. Both wore beards and had long, shaggy hair. They were dressed in work shirts and corduroy pants.

“Well, somebody obviously beat me to it,” Keegan answered and an edge began to creep into his voice. “And while we’re at it, where is Miss Gould?”

“I will ask the questions.”

“Maybe you should check with her before you push this any farther.”

“Perhaps you can tell us where she is?”

A tremor of dread rippled through Keegan. Was this some kind of ruse? If they were the Gestapo, where was Jenny and what were they doing in her apartment? And where was he and why were they grilling him?

Something didn’t play right.

“You came into Tempelhof tonight on your private plane, Mr. Keegan. You walked right through customs.”

“So?”

“No customs inspection?”

“I didn’t have any luggage. Besides, I go in and out of Berlin all the time. They all know me.”