“You’ve never cared about me driving fast before,” Bear shot back. “Remember when we were being chased by those MiGs in Eastern Russia? I couldn’t go fast enough for you then.”
“That was different.”
Gunner smiled as his mind wandered. It really wasn’t different. Speed was speed. Confidence and control were what mattered when pushing any form of transportation to its limit. He calmly turned in his seat and pointed to Cam’s iPad. “May I have that?”
“Sure,” she replied. As she passed it forward, she nodded toward their driver, the Maverick wannabe. “Feel free to bludgeon him with it.”
Gunner ignored her. “Here’s the sense I got from Professor Brandt. He was almost a Nazi apologist. He didn’t quite go there, but he certainly downplayed many facts that historians like Bale believe to be true.”
“He sure seemed to contradict her, at least indirectly,” offered Bear as he whipped the BMW into the left lane to pass a slow-moving truck. The maneuver caught Gunner off guard and tossed him back and forth in the passenger seat.
“There really is no hurry to get there,” he commented casually.
“I know. Just a few more minutes, ten miles or so. Then I’ll back her down to eightyish.”
“Swell,” mumbled Cam from the back seat.
Gunner continued. “We don’t know all the facts surrounding the challenges to Brandt’s tenure from years ago. I do know people far more sensitive to past Nazi activities and his family’s relationship to the Reich would find reason to be offended by his positions. It’s possible he was more outspoken in his defense of his grandfather back then and has learned to tone it down. In any event, it was apparent he wasn’t being entirely truthful.”
Cam leaned forward against the seatbelt restraints. “I know you. That whole Detective-Columbo-just-one-more-question thing at the end had a purpose. Am I right?” She was referring to the classic detective series starring Peter Falk from the 1970s. Falk, as homicide detective Columbo, was notorious for having just one more question for a suspect that often resulted in a break in the case.
“Yeah, sort of. I needed to catch him with his guard down.”
Cam unbuckled her seatbelt as Bear dropped the speed to one hundred thirty kilometers per hour, or around eighty mph. She scooted forward and draped her arms over the bucket seats occupied by the guys.
“I saw the reference to this von Zwick fella in Jackal’s notes, but I didn’t spend much time on him. I kinda focused on the neo-Nazis operating in Germany.”
“There’s a loose, certainly arm’s-length connection,” Gunner said. “Jackal did an amazing job digging this up.”
“Is he a Nazi sympathizer?” asked Bear.
“Far from it,” replied Gunner. “Professor Stefan von Zwick used to teach political science and history at a small college in Berlin until he mysteriously disappeared. According to the articles Jackal included in this pdf file, the rumors floating around ranged from assassination, suicide, to the complete disconnection from society.”
“So where are we headed if the guy’s kaput?” Bear used the German word meaning broken or inoperative.
“The Den’s research shows he’s resurfaced but not publicly. When he disappeared, he was investigating several major European corporations and their ties to the Third Reich. Professor von Zwick claimed he could prove their initial capital funding came from stolen monies funneled out of Swiss banks like UBS and Credit Suisse.”
“And they thought he got whacked for it?” asked Bear.
“That was the assumption at the time,” replied Gunner. “Eventually, the story died down, as he never resurfaced, and these companies used their PR departments to quell the notion of Nazi connections.”
“And, now, Jackal thinks he’s back in action?” asked Cam.
“Yes, and he’s onto something else,” replied Gunner.
“Whoa, shit!” exclaimed Bear as he let his foot off the gas pedal to drop his speed. Two Audi A8 sedans passed them, maxing out their five-hundred-sixty-horsepower engines. “Did you see those guys?”
“Barely,” replied Gunner. “Whadya think? One fifty?”
“Yeah,” replied Bear. “They were givin’ it all they had. I wonder what the hellfire emergency is?”
“Nuts,” said Gunner as he shrugged and continued. “Anyway, there are a bunch of far-right extremists in Northeastern Germany, the Nordkreuz, who’ve been building a town full of neo-Nazis. The place is called Jamel.”
“Von Zwick lives there?” asked Cam.
“Nearby, according to Jackal. He has a small farm, where he’s living under an assumed name—Karl Kramer. The FBI and CIA turned over records to the Den related to a social media user, Karl K. Kramer, who apparently infiltrated this group.”
“Seriously? K-K-K?” asked Bear.
“I assume he was trying to endear himself to the Nordkreuz,” replied Cam. She turned to Gunner. “How did he land on our radar?”
“At first, it was part of Washington’s efforts to shut down the rise in hate groups around the U.S. His username kept popping up on chat boards like Reddit and Parler. He was being lumped in with all of the usual right-wing organizations identified as hate groups by the Southern Poverty Law Center.”
Bear lifted his hands off the wheel and shrugged. “Maybe he is? You know, a Nordkreuz.”
“Except, four months ago, information began to arrive via direct Facebook messages to a reporter at the Washington Times. The information was detailed and easily authenticated by the FBI.”
“Like what?” asked Cam.
“Financial records. Incorporation documents. Video and photographs of Nordkreuz activities. All of which proved a connection between the extremists and their benefactors, who were some of the most well-respected political leaders and entrepreneurs in Europe.”
“These thugs are being funded by closet Nazi sympathizers?” asked Bear.
“That’s what the FBI believes. And, through a slipup by this Professor von Zwick, alias Karl Kramer, he forgot to use his VPN to mask one of his communications with the Washington Times. His IP address was cross-referenced with the posts on Reddit and Parler. The user who infiltrated Nordkreuz was the same person feeding this detailed information to the Times.”
“And we believe it’s von Zwick?” asked Cam.
Before Gunner could respond, Bear interrupted. His eyes
