Finally, the Ministerpräsident broke down. “What?”
One of Marcel’s goons tensed his hand backward.
“Don’t,” Marcel instructed.
The goon reluctantly lowered his hand.
Gage spoke to Boden. “You have no idea, do you?”
“Every accusation you’ve made has been baseless,” Boden replied, regaining some of his swagger. “What ridiculous supposition are you making now?”
“Katja,” Gage answered.
“What about Katja?”
“I have proof you were the one behind the wheel of your white BMW.”
Boden shook his head. “Bullshit. This is all a bunch of trumped up garbage.”
“You’ll see.”
“I wasn’t driving anything and you’re all going to jail.”
Gage spoke to Marcel, as if Boden wasn’t there. “As I indicated, I have proof Boden drove the car that ran Katja off the mountain road. He also tried to run me down in Frankfurt. A further investigation will show that he probably used his dead man, Stephan, to slip onto Il Magnifico’s boat and drown him. Regardless, Boden orchestrated it, and that will be proven. He also used his influence to have his old buddy Rainer Schulz arrested. Then, Boden paid someone to go and hang the old man in his holding cell, making it all look like the actions of a white collar crook with no remaining options.”
Right on cue, Marcel asked why.
“Because he’s attempting to take over Il Magnifico’s illegal pharmaceutical business. It began with Vogel and Rainer Schulz supplying Il Magnifico, but then the two Germans had a falling out. At that point, Vogel brought the good Ministerpräsident here into the mix, and that’s when the business really took off.”
“What was Il Magnifico’s role?” Marcel asked. A successful mobster, indeed, but his acting needed work.
“He was the sales end,” Gage explained, “with his dozens upon dozens of dark web Russian and Czech and Estonian websites that sell mail order drugs in thirty languages to people around the globe. Boden and Vogel were the distribution end. They had the dirty relationships with drug companies and drug distribution companies all over Europe. They fed Il Magnifico all his product and got filthy rich doing so.”
“You can’t prove any of that,” Boden replied with a sneer.
“Oh really, Michael?” Gage asked mockingly. “How are you going to explain this house? The millions of euros in cars? The cocaine on the mirror? The high priced hooker who’s downstairs drinking your Stoli vodka? How are you going to explain those things?”
“I don’t own the cars and I don’t own the house. I’m innocent of everything you’ve accused me of,” he spat.
“And what of the proof I have that you drove the BMW that wrecked Katja?”
“You don’t have proof!” Boden roared in a deep baritone, regaining his superiority. The indignant politician began to shine once again. “You’re lying about all of it, Hartline, and none of this will stick. You think people will be upset that I was a guest in a corporate house with a woman? My affairs have been well documented. People damn near expect it from a politician.”
Struggling not to grin, Gage eyed Marcel.
“What about you?” Boden snarled at Gage. “You broke into this home, murdered my security man, took down the rest of the security, and kidnapped the Ministerpräsident of Hessen. After all you’ve done, you’re trying to put fear into me? You’re going to prison for murder, you sonofabitch.”
“The killing was self-defense,” Gage calmly replied.
“Murder! You premeditated your breaking and entering and murdered a man in the process. I’d suggest you learn the law. Your actions here will put you deep inside the bowels of a prison for the remainder of your days.”
“It was self-defense, Herr Ministerpräsident. I wasn’t breaking and entering—I was acting as a concerned citizen in the apprehension of a criminal.”
“We’ll see whose story sticks,” Boden dared. “When I get done telling my side of things, I’ll be getting the fucking Hessen Order of Merit.”
Gage removed his iPhone from his pocket. He tapped it several times and waited, holding the screen where only he could see it. After a moment, he spoke to the phone.
“You ready?”
“Yes.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good, actually,” came the response from the feminine voice.
“What is all this?” Boden demanded.
Gage turned the phone so the Ministerpräsident could see it. Both Gage and Marcel watched Boden’s face with great interest.
Boden stared at the screen and shrugged dismissively. “A video of Katja. You honestly think I’m that stupid? I cut my teeth as a prosecutor—a stunt like this is an insult to my intelligence.”
Gage corrected him. “Not a video and not a stunt…you’re looking at a live feed.”
“My ass it’s live.”
“It’s very much a live feed,” Katja replied. “You tried to kill me, Michael, after I left your estate, after I confronted you about your scheme with my father.”
Never before had Gage seen a more priceless expression on any person’s face. Michael Boden’s look of sheer horror was one for a lifetime. It embodied his greatest fears. All the years of greed and running roughshod came home to roost in a matter of seconds. At its essence, Ministerpräsident Michael Boden’s jig was up.
“What’s wrong, Michael?” Katja asked. “Speechless? That’s not like you.”
The hilarious expression on Boden’s face quickly dissolved to one of pathetic sadness. The once powerful prosecutor and current governor of one of the wealthiest states in Germany was now completely and utterly defeated. There was no more bravado. There were no further challenges. He had nothing for Katja, nor Gage, and certainly no challenge for Marcel.
Instead, he began to cry.
Sob, actually.
In the midst of his blubbering he asked Gage to shoot him. Please.
But Gage didn’t shoot him, nor did he do anything to harm him. No—Gage safeguarded the Ministerpräsident of Hessen.
Because he wanted the satisfaction of watching the man go down. And he wanted to share that satisfaction with others.
