Now, all that was left was the fun part.
* * *
The remaining drive took 15 minutes but Gage didn’t recall a minute of it. His mind was too occupied with what lay ahead. Using his false passport, he checked into the Vital Hotel Frankfurt, located just south of the Taunus Mountains and, the way the crow flies, not all that far from Boden’s estate.
From the trunk of Boris’ Opel, Gage retrieved his black flight bag, recalling when it had first been issued to him as a member of Colonel Hunter’s elite team. That had been more than 20 years ago.
“Twenty years,” Gage breathed.
The places this bag has been—every continent other than Antarctica, and countless countries. Gage had no desire to attempt to complete the list.
Once he was in his room, he made a list of tasks he must accomplish before the morning. That done, he opened his laptop and performed several searches on various German government websites, checking federal, state and municipalities. While a search on the license plate of the Porsche Carrera GT didn’t reveal an owner—probably for privacy reasons, the address of Weilstrasse 308, Schmitten did.
It was owned by Aufsteigen Kapital LLC-M. Gage performed a number of searches for Aufsteigen Kapital, finding only a few references to a limited liability company chartered in Malta. What the hell? Was this Boden’s shell company? Gage cross-referenced the company with the Porsche and came up zeroes, then tried the company with both Il Magnifico and Rainer Schulz’s full names. Nothing. Still, Gage felt the ownership of the estate might wind up an important fact later on.
Next, he made a call to France that went as he hoped. It was a long and detailed call, the outcome incredibly important. Gage’s second call was to Colonel Hunter. When the colonel answered, Gage updated him on just about everything before relaying his plans for tomorrow morning.
“I know it’ll drive you crazy to sit on your hands, but that’s what I recommend. Don’t do this,” Hunter said firmly.
“Why?”
“Well, for starters, you could get killed. If you don’t get killed, you’re gonna get arrested. How do you think this’ll sound in a court of law? An American mercenary running an armed assault on a sitting German governor’s country estate?”
“It’s not his estate.”
“You don’t know that. All you know is the name of some holding company, but there could be a perfectly good reason for all that.”
“He’s dirty.”
“I don’t doubt it. You’re smart, Gage. You’re probably right about all this. I still think you should leave it alone. Hell, write everything up and send it to the best investigative reporter in Germany. Let them take a crack at him. They live to take down entitled scumbags like him.”
“I’m going in, sir.”
The two soldiers verbally sparred for a bit longer before Hunter went silent.
“Any advice?” Gage asked.
“You don’t want my advice.”
“About the assault.”
Hunter grumbled before saying, “Tell me about the estate.”
“Pretty large. From what I could tell, maybe fifteen or twenty acres surrounded by a solid wall with a single strand of razor wire on top. Also saw a small guardhouse. Given the type of money he has, I’m going to assume that he’s got motion detection devices and the like.”
“A good bet.”
“You think he has it everywhere, or just on the perimeter?”
“Tough to say. I’ve seen all types.”
Gage explained how he planned to infiltrate.
“That part will probably work,” Hunter replied. “But infiltration ain’t what I’m concerned with. It’s what you’re gonna do to him, followed by your exfiltration. How the hell are you gonna get out?”
Gage told him.
“You sure are gambling on pulling a couple of rabbits out of your hat.”
“I just wanted you to know, in case something goes wrong.”
“And if it does?”
“Call Ron. You two can avenge me. He’s been wanting to travel to Europe anyway.”
“So, he needs vengeance as an excuse?”
“That’s what I asked him.”
Hunter was quiet for a moment. “When will you go in?”
“About seven hours from now, before first light.”
“And what are you going to do if you get to him? You gonna completely neutralize him?”
“I’m still working on that. If you haven’t heard from me by twelve-hundred hours your time, you’ll know something went wrong.”
“Gage?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I won’t say it again. But I care for you, son, so take every precaution.”
“Yes, sir. Can you help me with one more thing?”
“I can try.”
Gage gave Hunter the license plates for the three cars of the men Boden had met at Kabuki Frankfurt—the meeting the Ministerpräsident attended just before heading to the Swiss bank.
“Can you pull a few strings and find out who owns those cars?”
Hunter let out a long, slow whistle. “I’m gettin’ old, son. My contacts are drying up.”
Gage was silent. He knew Hunter would cave in.
“I’ll have to call the embassy security officer,” the colonel breathed. “I think he’s still around.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Call you back,” Hunter replied.
Gage’s next phone call was to the phone he’d given to Ina. She didn’t answer so he sent her a text. While Gage was preparing his items, Ina called back.
“I went to see Katja,” she said without preamble.
“You did? You didn’t tip—”
“She’s still Erika Mustermann…relax. I’m not that dense.”
“How is she?”
“Better. She has some amnesia, especially about the weeks leading up to the accident, but otherwise seems fine. She wants to get up and about but they’re waiting until all her swelling goes away.”
“So good to hear,” Gage breathed with relief. “Really fantastic news.”
“She told me the doctors haven’t been asking questions, so Boris must have done his job.”
“He’s been invaluable,” Gage replied, mildly amused as he thought about Boris in
