CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Two Weeks Later
A blanket of downy white snow covered the manicured lawns and stately mansions of the Vogel estate. Though it was noon, the low winter sun made it seem either early in the morning or late in the afternoon. Gage emerged from Katja’s kitchen with two cups of hot chocolate for the ladies, and a cup of coffee for himself. They were awaiting the start of the special report on former Hessen Ministerpräsident Michael Boden. Every major German news network was live. On RBF-News, the male anchor eyed the monitor, his tone grave as he announced that the press conference would begin in moments. Then he filled the dead air with blather as he and the rest of Germany waited for the big moment.
“How’s the counseling going?” Gage asked.
Ina shrugged. Katja answered.
“It’s okay. Some days it’s nice to let it out. Others, not so much.”
“I think it helps a little,” Ina added.
“Do you meet together?” he asked.
“We’ve had five collective sessions now,” Katja replied. “We’re also supposed to have one alone session per week.”
“I’m sure the pros know what they’re doing,” Gage replied. “I’m glad you’re both confronting it.”
They watched the television for a moment.
“When are they making you leave?” Ina asked.
“They cancelled my visa and put me back on my passport. They allowed three weeks from the date of the incident for me to finish up any business here and go back.”
“In other words, he’s got another week,” Katja added.
“When can you return?” Ina asked, her hand massaging Sheriff’s neck. She’d somehow come around on the dog. Sheriff had a way of melting even the coldest of people.
“I’ll have to check with the State Department, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t put any restrictions on visiting. That means I can come back in ninety days.”
“But it doesn’t mean I can’t travel to see you,” Katja said, nudging him with her leg. The doctors had allowed her to come home ten days ago. For now, she was supposed to rest and endure no lifting or physical activity. She wasn’t able to resume dance—yet. Despite the precautions, her medical team predicted a full recovery.
“Are you planning a visit to the States?” Ina asked with her eyebrow cocked.
Katja ignored her.
“And what of our father’s killer?” Ina asked. “Are we ever going to know?”
Gage’s pleasant countenance dissolved. Just as he was about to deflect the question, Ina cut him off.
“Forget I asked that,” she said, showing her palms. “Katja and I have talked about it, and we trust you. Besides, I don’t want to go there—ever again. So, can we erase that question?”
“What question?” Gage responded.
“Shhh…here they go,” Katja said.
The screen changed to a live shot in a brightly lit pressroom. A dour, serious woman in her middle age adjusted the microphone at the podium displaying the coat of arms of Hessen. She shuffled her papers and cleared her throat one too many times as cameras could be heard clicking.
“Good afternoon, I’m Madeline Ansbacher with the Bundeskriminalamt. I will not be answering questions after this statement. If you have inquiries, you can submit them through the channels provided to your press agency.” She shuffled her papers again, followed by more clearing of her throat. A hand appeared with a bottle of water. She sipped the water, nodding her thanks before continuing.
“The initial investigation into improprieties surrounding former Hessen Ministerpräsident Michael Boden have been completed.” She paused, seeming to prepare herself. “According to the investigative efforts of dozens of BKA personnel, along with numerous cooperating authorities within Germany and abroad, it was determined that former Ministerpräsident Boden was involved with, and a chief orchestrator of, an illegal international pharmaceutical sales ring that amounted to more than one billion of euro in gross sales, each year, for at least the last four years.”
As the cameras clicked, someone attempted to ask a question but was called down by someone else off screen. The clearly uncomfortable BKA spokeswoman adjusted her reading glasses and continued.
“In addition to charges surrounding the pharmaceutical sales ring, he will also be charged in the attempted murder of two unnamed people whose identity have been protected. We’re currently investigating former Ministerpräsident Boden’s role in the death and possible murders of Vincent Colombo, an Italian citizen and participant in the drug ring, along with Rainer Schulz, whose death by suicide is now in question.”
Pandemonium erupted in the pressroom. It took several staffers a full minute to restore order. A credentialed man in a rumpled suit and reading glasses on the tip of his stubby nose grasped the microphone and gave the assemblage an earful. He warned of press credentials being revoked for any further outbursts.
Madeline resumed her position at the podium and mumbled something about just a few more statements to make. “Former Ministerpräsident Boden’s political affiliations will also be investigated, as there has been credible evidence found of back-channel communication and deal-making with influencers outside of areas in which he positioned himself. Additionally, a great deal of effort has gone into the determination on what, if any, relationship he and Rainer Schulz had with the Red Army Faction.”
After flipping the page, Madeline steeled herself for one final statement. “While the number is not yet accurate, the investigators have uncovered and traced monies and assets in the forms of businesses, limited liability companies, negotiable interests, real estate, boats and cars—all belonging in some form, or under the control of, former Ministerpräsident Michael Boden. The value of these assets is well in excess of one billion euro.”
Clearly ready to end this, Madeline lowered her reading glasses. “A trial date has not been set for former Ministerpräsident Boden, but it’s estimated to begin in summer of this year.”
The news station cut back to the stunned but gleeful anchor who then brought in a panel of experts to dissect
