“Can you tell us anything else?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Sonofabitch,” Gage breathed. “He was hanged.”
“How can you be sure?” Boris asked.
“If he wasn’t, they’d dispel it. The fact they won’t confirm means it happened.”
“Good point.”
Gage thought about the entire situation: the sudden arrest of Schulz, the “justifiable” suicide—it was all too convenient. “Schulz didn’t do that to himself. This was a setup and another murder.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know. I’ve got to move into action on this, Boris. The dominos are falling too quickly.”
“Move into action on what?”
“Hang on.” Gage massaged his temples.
Think, damn you, think.
“Gage?”
“Gimme a second.”
He continued to process, processing carefully and critically. Nothing had changed, other than the timeline. He’d already decided to go after Boden. But now, based on Schulz’s death, Gage needed to speed things up.
“Boris, listen carefully. I know I’m a threat. Because of that, it can’t appear like I’m taking action. Katja is supposed to be dead. My work here is supposed to be done, right?”
“I guess,” Boris said, clearly not following. “But you just said—”
“Never mind what I said. As far as external optics go, it needs to appear that all threats from the Vogel end of things have been snuffed out.”
“But you are a threat.”
“True, but I’m going to book a flight home for tomorrow. I have to be on that airplane and leaving Germany. It needs to look like the case here has been closed.”
“But your pay, Gage, and finishing the items with the estate.”
“That can wait.”
“When will you be coming back?”
“I’m not leaving, Boris.”
“I’m confused. You just said—”
“I know what I said. It’s only going to look like I left because someone else will be sitting in my seat on that flight.”
“Who?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“You need to come get my passport. I know someone in Frankfurt who can help you with your appearance.”
“Gage, are you crazy? I can’t do that.”
“I am crazy and, yes, we are going to do it. Get over here now.”
Gage hung up the phone, his mind whirring. He found Ursula’s friend Dü’s business card. He texted her mobile and she called back within five minutes.
Thankfully, she was willing to help.
The wheels were in motion.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
On the following day, Gage Hartline felt his brand new cellphone buzz. It was Boris. With Gage’s actual passport, the newly sandy-haired Boris had checked in successfully and cleared departure security. A sandy-colored wig wasn’t the only difference about the typically disheveled attorney. Boris wore engineer boots with tall soles and lifts inside. He wore a sweatshirt and a loose jacket, hiding his girth. Dü instructed him not to shave. Two hours before departure, she met him to add a few final touches with makeup and the like, attempting to create the illusion of a more chiseled face and 15 extra years of age. Boris’ greatest challenge was speaking English without an accent. They’d practiced well into the night, with Gage harping that “less is more.”
And according to the text Gage just received, it must have worked.
So, according to the airline and Germany’s Federal Aviation Office, Gage Nils Hartline was preparing to board American Flight 705 from Frankfurt to Charlotte. The flight was due to depart in about an hour, so they weren’t in the clear yet. But the mere fact that Boris had passed security made Gage relax immensely. All that remained was scanning his boarding pass and taking his seat on the airplane.
Gage now settled into the driver’s seat of Boris’ Opel sedan and continued his surveillance on the state chancellery building in Wiesbaden. A grand structure, he learned it actually hadn’t been the state chancellery for very long. Last night, after the English practice, as he’d planned today’s surveillance and activity, Gage reviewed the building’s history. Before 2004, it was the famed Hotel Rose, a resort property that had once boasted hosting Adolf Hitler in 1938. Gage found several old photos of the hotel adorned in stark Nazi regalia. After changing hands several times and eventually falling into bankruptcy, the hotel was ultimately purchased by the State of Hessen and remodeled into the chancellery. Had Gage not known its past, he might have guessed it had been the chancellery for decades, if not centuries.
Built of ochre stone in Renaissance style, the chancellery featured seven stories, the top floor made up of garrets, along with three distinct parapets flying the state and German flags. At the front of the building was a modern glass portico that led to the drive and the Kochbrunnenplatz, an extensive plaza with the most famous hot spring in the area.
The spring steamed on this cold morning, as it spouted its clear sodium chloride-imbued water into a collection basin where it was distributed under the bowels of the city. The water was consistently 66 degrees Celsius, approximately 150 degrees Fahrenheit, and would ruin anyone’s day who touched it before it cooled. That’s why its name was Kochbrunnen, literally “cook fountain.”
Restless and fatigued, Gage grew bored with sitting and struggled to remain focused. He’d been in this front row parking space since before sunup, having found a published copy of the Ministerpräsident’s daily schedule online. He was thankful for the transparent nature of the Germans. Following several early morning meetings in the chancellery, Boden was scheduled to depart for lunchtime business meetings followed by a ribbon cutting in Frankfurt. His schedule was vague afterward, stating after the ribbon cutting the Ministerpräsident would handle government and personal business.
Gage was banking that the “personal business” might tell him more.
Around the time Boris texted Gage to inform him he was in his seat and they’d closed the boarding door, Gage watched as a column of three vehicles emerged
