“You know I went to see him?”
“It was pretty obvious. We told you, and off you went.”
“Did Michael Boden tell you that he set it up?”
She curled her upper lip. “I don’t talk to Michael Boden.”
“I saw him try to speak to you at the limo earlier.”
“Again, I don’t talk to Michael Boden. The story of Rainer Schulz,” she said, twirling her finger to take the subject back to its original course.
“Yes, I did meet with him.”
“And?”
Gage shrugged. “I don’t know. There wasn’t much to it. He definitely struck me as a bit of a coiled snake, but I wonder if some of that’s because he’s been heavily persecuted.”
“He’s been persecuted for a reason, Gage. He was dirty when he privatized the East and made a pile of money in the process. Since then, he’s done it again and again with his political connections and payoffs.”
“He suggested that whoever killed your dad is the person who has the most to gain with him out of the way.”
“That would be one Rainer Schulz.”
“What did he have to gain?”
“I honestly don’t know, but at one time, they were thick as thieves.”
Gage thought about Il Magnifico’s drowning but didn’t verbalize it to Katja. Instead, he took a different tack. “What about Michael Boden?”
She slumped. “Not him again.”
“C’mon.”
“What about him?”
“Is he connected to Rainer Schulz?”
“I seriously doubt that,” she said with emphasis.
“Why did you say it that way?”
“Politically, they’re almost on different ends of the spectrum, especially now.”
“What do you mean?”
“The world thinks Germany is one big happy efficient machine. But corruption is rampant here—maybe not like Italy or Greece—but deep nonetheless. Ending it has been one of Michael’s chief platforms, especially in the last election.”
“But he set the meeting for me. He obviously has pull with Schulz.”
She dismissed it with a flick of her hand. “That’s nothing. Of course he has the connections to get you in front of Schulz. Just know they’re on the opposite side of things.”
“Tell me what you know about your father and Rainer Schulz.”
“Zero,” she answered. “I could say the same about any of my father’s business dealings.”
“But you said they were involved in business.”
“Yes, but I have no idea how.”
“Rainer Schulz got pretty heated when I went to see him, especially in regard to your father.”
Katja spun her wine glass. “Okay?”
“And Ursula told me she heard them arguing about money.”
“Ursula? Please tell me you haven’t gotten mixed up with her.”
“I just asked her some questions.”
“We think she was banging my father. Disgusting.”
Gage refocused. “We’re not talking about Ursula. We’re talking about Rainer Schulz. Do you have any inkling—even a guess—of what him and your dad worked on?”
“Probably real estate—that’s my guess.”
“Okay…set that aside. Who had the most to gain from your dad’s death?”
“You name it, Gage.” She began counting off suspects on her fingers. “Me. Ina. Mother. And everyone who my father did business with, or competed with, which constitutes roughly half of Germany.”
Gage trumpeted his cheeks as he let out a long breath. “This is a Gordian knot.”
“A what?”
He explained the metaphor of a rope with no end. Soon thereafter, their dinner was served. They both ate well, spending a full hour talking afterward. They spent quite a bit of time talking about his time in the military. Tales about the most difficult portions of his training fascinated Katja.
“Have you ever killed anyone?” she asked.
This was a standard question—one Gage hated.
“Ask me in the morning,” he replied. “Wait…maybe you won’t be around to ask me.”
She kicked him under the table.
Meanwhile, the sun set as a wet snow began to fall. It was beautiful, quickly covering the well-lit plants and bushes outside.
Against his protests, Katja eventually signed for the check.
“When I lose my inheritance, then you can pay.”
Taking Gage by the hand, she led him away from the restaurant and through the lobby. He questioned her, but she didn’t answer. In the elevator, Katja spun to Gage and kissed him.
He offered little resistance.
Their room was a large suite on the top floor. The wide windows afforded views of the Main River and the city of Frankfurt, a postcard in the heavy snow. Within minutes, they were disrobed and on top of the bed.
Katja was just as bold in bed as she was everywhere else.
Combined with her self-assurance, she had a dancer’s grace and extreme flexibility.
A tantalizing evening.
* * *
It was late at night when Gage’s phone beeped and buzzed. Katja was nestled next to him, partially covered by the sheet with her head resting on his right arm. Gage grabbed his phone, doing his best not to wake her. He eyed the text message from Michael Boden. The Ministerpräsident had sent the name and phone number of the Kassel-based pathologist along with a message telling Gage that the pathologist knew it was okay to speak about the blood test results.
Gage recalled what Doctor Kudlak had told him about catecholamines in Karl Vogel’s system, and how they might have indicated another wound of some sort. He thumbed through his messages and read the summary from Kudlak. Then he went back to Boden’s text.
“What are you looking at?” Katja mumbled, burrowing into Gage’s side.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
“What is it?”
“Just a text.”
“What text?”
“Like I said, nothing.”
Katja lifted her head and gave Gage a look.
“It’s from Michael Boden, okay?”
“Ugh. What does he want?”
“He gave me the name of the doctor who did your father’s autopsy.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to speak to him.”
She lifted her head a bit more. “Do you think something was wrong with the autopsy?”
“I doubt it. I sent the blood test
