Kalakia clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. There was no doubt now that it was an inside job. When he spoke again, his voice sounded course and unfamiliar.
“Transport The Council to Berlin. I want them interrogated, but not touched. Not yet. Speak to our contacts at Interpol and have them monitor the airports in case Stirner shows up. I want him alive.”
“Should we declare a state of emergency?”
“You should have done that as soon as you got on the plane. Do it now and do it first. The men need to be prepared for further attacks.”
Francois’ phone began vibrating in his hand. He checked the screen.
“It’s Dastan Navolov,” he said.
Kalakia sat at attention. Francois lifted the phone to his ear.
“Yes.”
Francois listened carefully, then his eyes lit up.
“Attacked? When?” he said.
For a time Francois listened, shifting often in his seat. Kalakia remained upright and waiting.
“Hold on,” said Francois then lowered the phone.
“Someone hit the Neutralaser facility. They bombed the entrance and stormed the hall. One of our people made a call from inside during the firefight, and now Dastan says he can’t reach him.”
Frederich sat on the cold concrete with his back against the wall, rubbing on his knuckles in a dazed state. His hands were red all over and still throbbing. Groans of agony came from inside the rooms, which had been turned into makeshift hospital beds. Scheffler had already accounted for the dead and the injured were being brought inside. Ralph walked by carrying two enormous plastic jugs of water for the wounded on each shoulder. He and Frederich exchanged silent nods before Ralph disappeared inside. A shadow descended on Frederich. He looked up and saw Piotr’s tired, frowning face gazing at him.
“I wasn’t going to ask, but we need help moving the bodies.”
Frederich placed both hands on the floor and pushed himself up.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They walked toward the middle of the training hall where Scheffler was coordinating the recruits, who were now armed and being instructed to cover the front alongside the surviving guards.
“Don’t stray!” yelled Scheffler. “I don’t want to lose any more men.”
Scheffler’s face was pale and he appeared exhausted, but he was as steadfast as ever. Strange, thought Frederich. Scheffler showing concern for the recruits?
“Scheffler! Helicopters heading this way!” yelled someone from the entrance.
Frederich’s skin flared up in anticipation. Scheffler’s eyes bulged open and he ran to the front with Frederich and Piotr trailing him. The sound of helicopters chopping through the air grew louder. Outside, the armed guard and recruits were standing or crouched in various positions with their rifles pointed in the air. The trees began blowing around when the three helicopters approached. Scheffler had his hands on his hips as he carefully watched the choppers descend while the force of the blades stretched his hair and clothing to one side. Then he began waving off the shooters.
“Don’t shoot! They’re with us! Don’t shoot!”
The armed guard and recruits slowly lowered their guns. Frederich shielded his eyes and watched the black military helicopters descend onto the opening, where traces of blood could still be seen beneath the snow. The attack helicopter landed first followed by two transport helicopters just behind it. Six armed men in military uniform and six civilians got out of the transport helicopters. Three men and three women were carrying medical bags. The door of the attack helicopter opened and two more armed soldiers hopped out. They turned around and helped two other soldiers bring out their prisoner. The captive had his hands bound behind his back and was dressed in the same white military uniform as the attackers. He was forced onto the snow, and had his head bowed. Son of a bitch, thought Frederich. It was the one who got away. The last shooter.
They had found him.
At close to sunset Kalakia’s jet descended on The League’s private runway in the Brandenburg countryside. No risks were taken. The surrounding area had been searched for possible threats and awaiting them on the tarmac were six carloads of armed soldiers. After the jet landed and came to a halt, Kalakia and Francois made straight for the second vehicle and the fleet drove off.
Back in Berlin they approached the penthouse at Zoologischer Garten with extreme caution. Soldiers from Hamburg, Frankfurt, Munich and Cologne had arrived to help protect Kalakia and reinforce the city. They had been arranged into armed carloads of four which were parked in random locations all around the Grand Luxus Hotel. The rest remained in civilian clothing and patrolled the streets on foot. More armed soldiers were also in place on the rooftop by the time Kalakia arrived. Kalakia made it into the elevator under armed cover and soon he was inside with Francois by his side, where they made connection with Navolov’s commandos.
“The team is approaching the Neutralaser facility,” said Francois while turning his mobile phone to loudspeaker mode and laying it on the coffee table.
The sound of helicopter blades came bursting through. Kalakia and Francois waited and listened.
“There’s a fire ahead,” said a distorted voice.
“What fire?” said Francois, turning his ears toward the speaker.
“We’ve arrived at the coordinates, and there’s black smoke coming from a hole in the ground. Looks like they blew it wide open and torched the whole thing.”
Kalakia and Francois exchanged sharp glances. Kalakia leaned forward.
“Any sign of life?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just the fire. We didn’t see anyone on approach.”
“Split up. Check the entire area,” said Kalakia. “Don’t stop until you find something.”
“Roger that,” said the voice.
The connection closed with a click.
“They had to have come by helicopter,” said Francois. “If they were trying to move the device by road, we would have found them by now.”
“The device is already destroyed beneath those flames,” said Kalakia bitterly.
“That makes no sense. Why would they do that?” replied Francois. “Stirner knows we still
