The two men were, of course, one in the same. The transformation had occurred during a brief trip to Limburg’s handsome Stadtmitte, the center city shopping district. By the lazy waters of the Lahn River, the man—Gage Hartline—purchased used clothes from a thrift store, glasses, and a rather expensive wig from a specialty boutique. The wig was for an older woman, but that was fixed by the helpful attendant with a set of shears and some hairspray. The sunspots were nothing more than a number of dabs with dark makeup. Though simple, the effect was profound. Gage added the limp as the final cherry on top. No one batted an eyelash as “the older gentleman” entered the neuro-unit.
Katja was awake when Gage slid into the space beside her bed, concealing himself as best he could behind the medical equipment.
He grasped her hand. “Katja, it’s me, Gage.”
She blinked several times, then managed a weak smile, which made him smile in return.
“You’re not aging well,” she whispered.
“You haven’t told them your name?”
“No.”
“Anyone ask?”
“Not since you were here.”
“Don’t tell them, okay?”
She nodded.
“Listen to me…I know this is difficult…and I’m sorry to rush you…but who tried to run you off the road?”
Katja eyed him and spoke in the clearest voice yet. “Michael Boden.”
Struggling to contain himself, Gage nodded his understanding. “Michael Boden. You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did you go see him that night?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
Moistening her lips, she said, “To confront him. I knew.”
“How did you know?”
“I put it all together: my father, Rainer Schulz, Il Magnifico. I knew Boden was involved somehow.”
“Did you tell him about what the killer did to your father, to his body?”
She nodded.
“He didn’t know that before you told him, did he?”
“It surprised him but he tried to act like he did.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“His estate.”
“In Wiesbaden,” Gage divined his mind for the correct name, “at the Villa of Schertel, or whatever it’s called?”
She shook her head. “No. His personal estate.”
“Where?”
“Schmitten.”
Gage leaned down, turning his ear for her to repeat it.
“Schmitten?” he asked. She nodded.
He recalled seeing it on the map, but couldn’t remember exactly where it was. Gage lifted his phone and typed the name into Google Maps. There it was, sure enough, in the heart of the Taunus Mountains. He slid the map to the right, seeing Friedberg just east of Autobahn 5.
The site of her wreck was located precisely on the route from Schmitten to Friedberg. He again leaned close to Katja.
“Is his estate public knowledge?”
She shook her head. “A holding company owns it.”
“He has a holding company? Did he disclose the estate when he became Ministerpräsident?”
She shrugged then winced. “He’s always been sneaky.” Katja moistened her mouth. “I knew…kind of knew he might be involved…but it all came clear after you went to see Rainer Schulz, so that’s why I went to see Michael.”
“You could’ve died.”
Again, she shrugged.
“Can you tell me where in Schmitten his estate is located?”
“Weilstrasse.”
“Do you know the address?”
She shook her head. “Right outside of town.”
He leaned close. “You can’t tell anyone your name, understand? Under no circumstance.”
Katja nodded.
“I won’t be back until this is over.”
Gage leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. As he began to leave, she gripped his hand with surprising strength. He turned, watching as she mouthed two words.
“Get him.”
“Don’t worry,” Gage answered. “Don’t—worry.”
As he limped from the neurological unit, the same nurse who’d called security before passed him and glanced at his face. Gage turned and looked back after he’d crossed through the automatic doors and saw her going about her business. She didn’t seem to be alarmed at all.
Both mysteries were now solved.
Thomas the caretaker had killed Karl Vogel—justifiably, in Gage’s mind.
And Michael Boden was the mastermind who’d helped Karl Vogel develop a pharmaceutical distribution business. Since Karl was now out of the way, Boden had murdered Il Magnifico, and attempted to kill both Gage and Katja. He’d probably also orchestrated Rainer Schulz’s arrest.
It was now high time for Gage to turn his attention, and talents, to the Hessen Ministerpräsident.
Once again in the Audi, Gage sped back to the estate.
* * *
When he exited the autobahn, Gage eased off the accelerator. He’d be at the estate in less than ten minutes. Rather than hurry and make a mistake, he felt it important that he slow down and be a bit more methodical about how he should go about this. Or better yet, if he should go about this.
Who are you kidding? You’re going to do it, even if it kills you.
As he cruised east on the two-lane road, he thought about Claudia’s diary, and her words about keeping Karl’s mutilation secret. After she died, the only people who knew were Olga and the pathologist. After Gage learned the secret from the smarmy little doctor, he told Katja—and had stopped just short of accusing her.
But he’d let the accusation float between them like a vapor.
Then, distraught, Katja had driven to Boden’s private estate in Schmitten to confront him. Gage could imagine the unpleasant exchange. Whatever had been said between Katja and Boden had scared the man enough that he’d let her leave peacefully, but then chased her down in a white car and sent her careening over the edge of a cliff.
And now he believed she was dead.
This was to Gage’s great advantage. And he knew he’d better capitalize on said advantage while he had it—there was no telling how long before Boden learned the truth that Katja was still alive.
Back at the estate, a cold rain began to fall
