The soldiers were getting over-excited. Understandable, figured Vidrik, considering how weak and indecisive the leadership had been in recent times. He was going to put their minds at ease with a message of his own; their protector at the gate was him, not Frederich Fucking Abel.
He looked down at the worm, strapped naked on his back. The worm was a handsome young man, with his tanned face covered in freckles. The questions could wait. Vidrik turned the scalpel in circles by its handle and inspected the tip. The handsaw was waiting ready on the table beside him. The dozen high-ranking soldiers who Vidrik knew well stood around the table and looked on, including Falk Braun, the General of Europe. Vidrik had specially invited them to witness the spectacle. At the back with his arms crossed was Francois. He had not been invited. He was going to run home and spill the details to daddy. A problem for later. It was time to go to work.
“Now,” said Vidrik, giving careful, equal attention to each person in the audience before turning back to the worm, who seemed more engaged once the scalpel neared his body. “Let’s peel back the skin and see what we can find out.”
“Come in, Frederich,” said Kalakia without offering a greeting.
Frederich entered the apartment while still feeling Kalakia’s eyes on him from behind and took note of the sheer size and unusual layout of the place. He had no interest for the artefacts and paintings. He approached the window and looked out over Berlin, able to see far into the distance, where most buildings were no more than five stories high.
“Nice view,” he said.
“I assume you saw far more magnificent sights during your training?”
Frederich spotted Kalakia in the reflection, standing upright with his head raised and his hands clasped together behind his back.
“For brief moments,” said Frederich. “But we weren’t there to enjoy the landscape.”
“No, you were not. That was the first time you had been to The Alps?” asked Kalakia.
“Yes,” replied Frederich. “I was about to say I’d never left Estonia until recently, but you already knew that, right? You know everything about me.”
“Well, who would know if Kraas took you for a family trip through Europe by car?” said Kalakia.
Frederich turned around and narrowed his eyes. A smirk appeared on Kalakia’s face and disappeared just as quickly.
“Were you harmed in the firefight?” asked Kalakia with a change of tone.
“No, I’m fine,” said Frederich.
“Good,” said Kalakia and signalled toward the sofas.
Frederich moved away from the window and found a seat. There were two glasses of water on the coffee table, as well as a bottle of whiskey and two empty whiskey glasses.
“Outstanding,” said Kalakia when he sat down. “You single-handedly saved the lives of dozens of your peers. Scheffler is integral to our organisation. Because of you, he is still with us.”
“I did what I had to,” said Frederich.
“Did you? Who told you to risk your life? From what I was told, Scheffler cast you out like an animal.”
“I didn’t do it for him.”
“Then for who? For me? The League?”
“That’s part of it. I also went back because of my friend, Piotr Paleski.”
“A fellow recruit?”
Frederich nodded.
“So you acted out of loyalty and friendship?”
“I guess so.”
“Yes, well, you have made quite the impression on our men. Your story is spreading. In a time of crisis like we have now, your heroics have raised their morale.”
“I heard you also had some trouble?” said Frederich, uncomfortable with the praise being dolled out.
“I did.”
“Who’s behind this?”
“The answer to that question will not be a straightforward one. The enemy achieved total surprise, which is no easy feat. This can only mean that a shadow organisation has formed in secret. Untraceable and without form.”
“Just like The League.”
“I did suspect this time would come. Our enemies have been adapting and evolving. When power is not permitted to concentrate, it loses form and spreads. Now our strategy is being used against us.”
“Who’s the mole? This couldn’t have happened without inside help.”
Kalakia sighed and looked away briefly.
“Let us return to you. Tell me about your quarrel with Scheffler.”
“What’s there to tell?”
“A significant amount, I suspect. You dared stand up to him not once, but twice. We already know how you feel about death. But why risk everything because of a squabble? This I do not understand.”
“It wasn’t just the snow giving Scheffler vertigo up there. He was getting carried away, and it was only going to get worse if nobody stood up to him. I didn’t want to risk my place with The League. I want this more than anything. But..”
Kalakia lifted his eyebrows.
“But?”
Frederich shrugged.
“I don’t know. I was angry. Sometimes I do stupid things without knowing why.”
“No,” said Kalakia, shaking his head. “That will not do. You act foolishly at times, yes. But I suspect something else was at play. Tell me.”
Frederich paused and searched himself. He was aching to see Kraas again, a feeling he had not had since leaving for Zürich.
“Because it’s what Kraas would want me to do,” he found himself saying. “I couldn’t back away. I had to face Scheffler no matter what.”
Kalakia nodded repeatedly.
“You are your father’s son.”
Frederich nodded, feeling suddenly vulnerable under Kalakia’s gaze.
“Did your father ever tell you why he joined the Spetsnaz?” said Kalakia.
“Yes,” said Frederich. “He said it was his duty to fight. He hated the conflict between the Soviet Union and the West. He felt that both ideologies were flawed, but he said nothing would ever change if he stood on the sidelines.”
“I understand this notion,” said Kalakia. “Ultimately, his attempts were futile. The collapse of the Soviet Union must have broken his
