This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
FALLEN FATHER – A GAGE HARTLINE THRILLER (#6)
Amazon Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2020 by Chuck Driskell
Published by Autobahn Books
Cover art by Nat Shane
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
First Edition: March 2020
For my three sisters: Julie, Mary Lynne, and Suzanne…and for sweet Dena, who left us much too soon.
“A man who has never gone to school may steal from a freight car, but if he has a university education, he may steal the whole railroad.”
- Theodore Roosevelt
CHAPTER ONE
Vogel Estate, near Friedberg, Germany
An air pressure change disturbed the inky blackness of Karl’s bedroom. Someone had just entered the room. Karl had felt the subtle pressure on his eardrums enough times to know exactly what had just happened. It wasn’t his nurse because she’d have engaged the switch for the nightlights if she were coming to check on him. It wasn’t his wife, either. They’d not slept in the same bed in decades and she wouldn’t check on him at night. One of the girls? Surely not—they never came to visit, and with good reason.
Karl lay perfectly still, listening. Despite his eroding body, his hearing remained keen. For about a minute, there was nothing. Perhaps it had been his imagination. But then, as his ears gradually attuned, he thought he could make out the sound of someone breathing—slow, steady, deep. He strained to see, but cataracts and seven decades had clouded his eyes over, leaving him with the permanent and irritating sensation of staring through a pair of greasy, smudged glasses.
Despite his poor vision, right there in front of him, in the blackness of the room, he detected a silhouette. He couldn’t quite tell if the person were large or small. Whoever was there had come through the door and was now watching him.
“Who is that?” Karl called out. “Who’s there?”
No response.
He strained to see more detail. Rubbed his eyes. Maybe there wasn’t anyone standing there after all. But something had awakened him—the air pressure change. Just as he’d swear he felt it, he’d also swear he heard another person’s breathing. Karl wasn’t an alarmist. He’d spent a lifetime building a fortune that helped shape the local Hessen economy. At one time, he’d been the largest individual landowner in the entire federal state. It sometimes amazed him that, despite the heights he’d experienced; despite the significant things he’d done; despite the giants he’d slain; despite the world leaders who’d courted his influence; tiny instances such as this one could still unnerve him—he might as well be worried about the proverbial boogeyman under his bed.
His bony fingers reached to his right, grasping the call button. He twisted the button around, hoping the dull orange light would cast enough illumination to see who was in the room.
It didn’t.
Of the innumerable pistols I own, why don’t I have one nearby?
Karl didn’t want to call his nurse but he had no other choice. He wouldn’t be able to sleep with even the scant notion of an intruder in his room. And, unfortunately, he was too weak to stand. Using his thumb, he depressed the button. He wouldn’t hear Olga coming, not in such a large and well-built house as the estate manor.
The dim clock on his hospital bed read 5:46 A.M., meaning she’d been asleep for at least six hours. He encouraged each of his nurses to sleep, because on most nights he didn’t have to call them. No grown man liked to be fussed over, especially by a damned nurse. It made his approaching death seem far too real. When he had to urinate, he simply used the bottle hanging from the rail on the side of the bed. In fact, it had been several weeks since he’d had to call, when he’d been having horrible chest pains that had turned out to be his reflux acting up.
Now that he’d sent the signal, he rolled to his side and waited. He couldn’t see the figure anymore and wondered if he’d somehow conjured it. Perhaps he’d been dreaming.
Just a dream…just a dream…just a damned dream.
After about a minute, Olga came into the room and flipped the switch for the nightlights. Now the room was bathed in a low honey glow coming from four dim lights, one on each wall, all controlled by the second switch by the door.
Though he’d never admit it, he was comforted by Olga’s presence.
The tension melted away from Karl as he realized there was no one else in the room. It was all he could do not to appear relieved.
“You okay, Herr Vogel?” Olga asked, frowning with worry as she studied his face.
“I’m fine,” Vogel answered, his bad eyes staring at the area by the entrance hall. He lifted up as far as he was able and looked all around the well-appointed room, confirming that no one was there.
But it had seemed so real.
“Surely you’re not ready to get up yet. You were up till almost midnight.”
“No, I’m not ready to get up.”
She walked to him and checked his forehead. “You feel cool. Another blanket?”
“I’ll be hot.”
Olga lifted his insulated cup and held the straw for him. “Have some water.”
He took several dutiful sips and rested his head back onto the thin pillow.
She clasped her hands behind her back. “May I ask why you called?”
“Of course. I thought…”
“Sir?”
“Nothing, Olga,”
