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- Herausgeber: tredition
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Serie: Alexander Granger
- Sprache: Englisch
During a private trip to Singapore, German federal police officer Alexander Granger is approached by Interpol agent Brandon Song regarding overlapping investigations in Hamburg and the city-state. In both cities, commercial containers have been found with strange appliances built into them. While they are investigating these containers, they are shot at. In the South China Sea, tensions are boiling between China and Taiwan. There are indications that the two nations may be getting closer to a serious military conflict. A lawyer in Boston is asked to write a legal brief which could rattle the U.S. Presidency. Meanwhile, commercial containers are loaded onto trucks and head from Vancouver towards the Rocky Mountain States. On their way to Montana, North Dakota and Wyoming, the truck drivers leave a trail of death. Alexander Granger, with the help of Interpol in Singapore and police in Germany, follows the trail of the mysterious containers, trying to connect the dots between the various events and to prevent a global crisis.
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Seitenzahl: 312
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
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Karlheinz Moll
ROGUE INVASION
5 Days to Zero Hour
© 2023: Karlheinz Moll
Cover, Illustration: Petru Stendl, Intergrafos Proofreading: Peter Sherwood
Publisher: tredition GmbH, Hamburg
ISBN
Paperback
978-3-347-93030-8
Hardcover
978-3-347-93031-5
e-Book
978-3-347-93032-2
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, electronically shared or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means. Any electronic or mechanical photocopying or recording is not allowed without written permission by the author.
This is a work of fiction. All names, their background and stories herein are the product of the author´s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual real-life persons is purely coincidental and unintended.
In memory of the love of my life
Claudia Moll
(January 31, 1962 – March 19, 2022)
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue I: Port of Portland, Terminal 6 – Portland, Oregon
Prologue II: Yuwengdao Lighthouse – Pescadores, Taiwan
5 Days to Zero Hour
Chapter 1: Stamford Road, Singapore – Singapore
Chapter 2: Walla Walla - Washington State, Usa
Chapter 3: Fort Canning Park, Singapore - Singapore
Chapter 4: Boston Harbor - Massachusetts
Chapter 5: Fort Canning Park, Singapore - Singapore
Chapter 6: Boston Harbor - Massachusetts
Chapter 7: Fort Canning Park - Singapore
Chapter 8: Interstates I-84 + I-90 – Montana & Idaho
Chapter 9: Bob Marshall Wilderness, Missoula - Montana
4 Days to Zero Hour
Chapter 10: Bka Headquarters, Bonn - Germany
Chapter 11: Boston Harbor - Massachusetts
Chapter 12: Hanscomb Field, Boston - Massachusetts
Chapter 13: Interpol Office Singapore – Singapore
3 Days to Zero Hour
Chapter 14: on the Way to Great Falls – Montana
Chapter 15: North of Bismarck – North Dakota
Chapter 16: Boston Harbor – Massachusetts
Chapter 17: Weissenau – Ravensburg, Germany
Chapter 18: Interpol Headquarter Singapore – Singapore
Chapter 19: Colter Falls / Rainbow Dam, Great Falls – Montana
Chapter 20: Friedrichshafen, Bodensee – Germany
Chapter 21: Boston Harbor – Boston, Massachusetts
2 Days to Zero Hour
Chapter 22: Ravensburg – Germany
Chapter 23: Ravensburg – Germany
Chapter 24: Singapore – Singapore
Chapter 25: Great Falls - Montana
Chapter 26: Boston – Massachusetts
One Day to Zero Hour
Chapter 27: Ravensburg – Germany
Chapter 28: Ravensburg - Germany
Chapter 29: Singapore – Singapore
Chapter 30: Boston, Massachusetts - Usa
Chapter 31: Great Falls, Montana – Usa
Zero Hour
Chapter 32: Singapore – Singapore
Chapter 33: Ravensburg – Germany
Chapter 34: Boston, Massachusetts – Usa
Chapter 35: Great Falls, Montana – Usa
The Day after Zero Hour
Chapter 36: Singapore – Singapore
Chapter 37: Bka Headquarter – Bonn, Germany
Chapter 38: the Harbor – Boston, Massachusetts
Epilogue I: 2 Days after Zero Hour – Great Falls, Montana
Epilogue II: 7 Days after Zero Hour – Bonn, Germany
Acknowledgement
The Author
Bibliography (English Books)
Rogue Invasion
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue I: Port of Portland, Terminal 6 – Portland, Oregon
Epilogue II: 7 Days after Zero Hour – Bonn, Germany
Bibliography
Rogue Invasion
Cover
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Prologue I
Port of Portland, Terminal 6 – Portland, Oregon
Hundreds of container ships with cargo from around the world still clogged the ports around the globe. Broken delivery chains, the lack of staff at ports, customs and elsewhere still caused massive delays and tons of perishable goods loaded on the big container ships had to be thrown into the ocean instead of being cleared through the harbor and fed to the world.
Terminal 6 at the Port of Portland was no different.
The Port was inaugurated by the Oregon Legislature in 1891. Then, its main purpose was to maintain a shipping channel from the city of Portland to the Pacific Ocean. Today the multipurpose facility, which stretched over several hundreds of acres, featured an on-dock rail yard and five-ship berths, built to handle all the types of containers being loaded and unloaded from ever bigger cargo ships. The seven container cranes operated, and trucks were entering and leaving the port, around the clock.
The port was no competition to the much larger ports along the West Coast, from San Diego to Tacoma, though. It was, however, a crucial port for container ships arriving from Hong Kong and mainland China carrying cargo to be transported onward to Eastern Oregon, Idaho and other parts of the Western Rockies.
The climate of the port area, as well as that of the City of Portland, was considered oceanic with a Mediterranean touch. The winters were mild with lots of rainfall whereas the summers were warm and sunny with cooler temperatures at night.
Today was one of those cool nights. A mist hung over the port but the port operators didn’t care. For the port workers, and their heavy machinery, it was just another night at the 24/7 facility and the monotonous tasks had to be completed day and night. On the plus side these were well-paying jobs with salaries above the industry average, both for those that were well-educated and school drop-outs.
From the office tower of the port authority controllers monitored the work of the heavy cranes lifting large containers from the ships and loading them onto trucks. The trucks waited in line and each drove off as soon as a container was saddled on their back. Other cranes did exactly the opposite, loading containers from trucks onto container ships. On balance much more cargo arrived from Asia than went out from the Port of Portland.
The controllers watched their monitors where they could see the feeds from the various cameras positioned all over the place. They didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, it was just a normal busy night.
If the controllers had been outside, they would have been able to take a closer look at one of the container ships berthed at the end of the line of Terminal 6. They would have heard some strange noises coming from one of the containers as it was lifted from a container ship and loaded onto a truck. Similar noises came from the next container, and the next, and the one after that.
In less than an hour, six trucks, each loaded with a container, had passed through the security gate. Once their papers were inspected and seen to be in order, as expected, they were stamped and the trucks were waved through. The six trucks left the port area and drove into the darkness towards Portland, where they separated into three pairs on separate routes eastward to their target destinations in the Rocky Mountains states.
Five days to Zero Hour.
Prologue II
Yuwengdao Lighthouse – Pescadores, Taiwan
As the night set in, the last remaining visitors left the historic lighthouse, originally built in 1875 and which now served as an attraction for both local and foreign tourists. One of these visitors stood at the highest point in the lighthouse tower with his expensive binoculars and watched the stormy sea, until the tour guide reminded him that the attraction was closing for the day.
A strong breeze had set in during the afternoon and the weather forecast had predicted a front coming in with strong winds and heavy rain. The young man was only dressed in a T-Shirt, Bermuda shorts and sandals, which were suitable for the weather in the morning, but it was too chilly now for beachwear. He had no intention of staying much longer anyway, as his tour bus would be departing momentarily.
He just wanted to spend another moment watching the wild sea crashing in big waves against the cliff.
In the distance he saw a large container ship moving south through the Taiwan Strait, the most important sea route separating China and Taiwan and through which 50% of the goods shipped worldwide pass.
A bit further in the distance, he thought he could make out two cruise ships, probably from Hong Kong or Macau, also going south, maybe to Singapore or Thailand.
When he looked to the north, he also spotted a vessel which looked like warship to him. Part of the silhouette he could see through the mist looked like cannons. Even though he had just recently completed his mandatory stint in the Navy, he couldn’t tell whether the war ship he saw was a Taiwanese ship, patrolling the shores of the island, or a Chinese vessel testing the waters once again by cruising too close to the Taiwanese coast. Whatever it was he saw, it could even be in international waters he realized, when factoring in the thick mist. He eventually lost interest and without giving it any more thought, he headed back to the tour bus.
If he had stayed just a while longer, when the mist cleared a bit, he would have seen that there was more than just one war ship. Many more.
Five days to Zero Hour.
5 Days to Zero Hour
Chapter 1
Stamford Road, Singapore – Singapore
It was late afternoon when the plane touched down on Changi Airport in Singapore. He had used his accumulated frequent-flyer miles to upgrade to Business Class, which had made the long flight of almost twelve hours much more pleasant than it would have been being squeezed in some middle-seat in Economy. He had selected a return flight from Bonn via Munich, instead of Frankfurt, which had stretched his journey a bit but on the other hand, he would have time to maybe meet an old acquaintance on the way back.
Customs at Singapore airport was literally a nonevent. The immigration officer barely looked at him as all the data seemed to be in the system anyway and the face recognition software would have signaled her already if the man standing in front of her wasn’t who he said he was.
The wait for his luggage was equally short and after he grabbed his sports bag from the conveyor belt, Hauptkommissar Alexander Granger, Special Agent of the German Federal Police – BKA –, left the air-conditioned terminal and walked the short distance to the taxi stand.
During the short ride to his hotel on the popular Stamford Road he noticed construction sites almost everywhere. Several buildings had appeared since his visit the previous year. Traffic on the multi-lane transit road to the city was busy as always but did not compare with routes to mega-airports in Los Angeles or San Francisco in the U.S. The difference was that most travelers visiting Singapore used taxis or public transportation instead of rental cars, and most Singapore residents didn´t own a car.
Another stark contrast was the ever-growing number of towers scraping the sky in comparison to the endless palm tree plantations which he had seen for hundreds of miles flying over Indonesia and Malaysia. For every tree planted in Europe to save the planet, another ten trees of the, once vast but now slowly disappearing, rain forests were replaced with palm trees. From these, the rest of the world received the extracted oil and used it as an ingredient in an endless list of food products containing fat, like chocolate or cookies as well as less obvious products like candles or cosmetics.
Alexander knew, however, that changing anything was easier said than done.
On one hand, the palm oil industry has had many critics over the past few years and, even with strong political decisions and strict measures it would also require changes to human lifestyles.
On the other hand, alternatives to palm oil are not much of an improvement. The often-mentioned soy as a possible replacement needs much more water than palm trees. Also, little thought is given to what all the farmers would do without the income from palm tree cultivation.
At times like these Alexander wondered how long the blue planet, or rather the people inhabiting it, could survive with natural resources being destroyed at such a pace. He remembered all the reports about parts of Africa and South America, where similar problems were seen every day. Sub-Saharan states have seen their rain forests razed to make space for rubber trees, and countries like Brazil are still burning down the remains of the earth´s so called green lung at a record speed to grow soy and palms for palm oil.
Singapore seemed to have realized they had to do something to counteract rising temperatures in their growing city. All newer high-rising buildings were covered to some level in greenery. Alexander had read somewhere that it was a legal requirement now for all new constructions to include urban vertical gardening to help achieve a neutral impact on the climate by the city-state.
There were only a few meters to walk outside the terminal but the high humidity brought him out in a sweat in no time, as if he had run for miles. The taxi, on the other hand, had its air-conditioning working at maximum, and it felt like entering a freezer. He took the light sweater he was carrying and put it round his shoulders. He had labored through a frozen shoulder syndrome recently and wanted to avoid a painful relapse.
His taxi was one of the overwhelming fleets of electric and hybrid vehicles at the airport. This was a stark contrast to most other airports he had arrived at. Alexander thought that many criticisms could be aimed at Singapore, but they considered their environment very seriously, as evidenced by the oncoming traffic, where many cars, and the unavoidable large SUVs, seemed to be electric too.
Passing the commercial harbor, he glimpsed some container ships being loaded and unloaded. He had already seen dozens of them cruising along the coastline during the approach of his plane to Changi Airport. It reminded him of one the cases he’d worked on recently in Hamburg involving a dead body, which was going nowhere.
He didn’t know it just yet, but an incident in Singapore was about to change that very soon, something that would shed new light onto this otherwise cold case.
The taxi fare was very reasonable. He had forgotten how cheap it was compared to Germany.
Thanks to the courtesy of Interpol in Singapore, Alexander was able to get a room at an expensive hotel on Stamford Road for a discount price he could afford. He didn´t even want to know how Cynthia´s former colleagues from Interpol had managed to convince the hotel management to offer the price which was well below any publicly available discounted rate.
He was given a spacious room on the 11th floor, the same floor where the fitness room and the pool were located. It wouldn´t have surprised him if even that had been arranged by someone at Interpol, as they knew of his disciplined sports routine which included both weightlifting and martial arts.
Alexander checked his wristwatch. It was getting close to 7pm, it was already dark outside, and the skyscrapers around his hotel illuminated the night. It was way too early to go to bed and, besides, he’d had a long sleep during the equally long flight here. He decided to take a walk to the peninsula where the Super Trees and other attractions were located, luring tourists and locals alike late into the night.
It was almost three years since he had lost his love, Cynthia Yeow, during a brutal shooting which had cost her life. Every year since then he’d managed somehow to come back to Singapore to visit her grave together with her parents, who still viewed him as a son-in-law even though he and Cynthia were not at a stage back then to consider marriage. Alexander had had a difficult time during the first year after it had happened. Working out even more frequently than he was already used to and taking on more cases than he would normally allow himself to handle had helped him get through a period of deep sadness and mourning.
This would be the first year though without Cynthia´s parents present for the annual ritual at the cemetery. They were in Hong Kong taking care of other family affairs. Cynthia´s uncle had unexpectedly died in a traffic incident, adding more grief to a family who had just about recovered from losing their only child.
It took him about twenty minutes to walk from his hotel through the Esplanade Park, passing the Singapore Flyer, once the world´s once largest big wheel which had been open to the public since 2008. It had cost 135 million Euros to build, financed by German investors. In 2014, it lost its first place in the book of world records to Las Vegas, and now ranked third place.
After a few more minutes on Raffles Ave, he reached the peninsula. The famous illuminated Sands Hotel was visible from afar. As he walked alongside the hotel, he saw a long line to the elevators which took tourists up to the rooftop, with its infinity pool where must-have selfies would be taken to be posted on social media.
But he noticed something else, although it was much less obvious. At first, it was only a feeling, which was confirmed quickly, that somebody had been following him ever since he had left his hotel. Alexander spotted him reflected in the glass front of one of the restaurants as he passed. It was a man, casually dressed in a black shirt and chinos, who was trying unsuccessfully to mingle with the crowds. The follower had tried to keep enough distance to not raise suspicion easily.
Whoever was tracking Alexander was surely a professional, he thought, but then Alexander was no novice in surveillance either. For the moment, Alexander didn´t care much about it as long as he wasn´t approached directly and didn’t feel threatened in any way. Instead, he continued his walk through the Serene Garden and the Meadow towards the Gardens at the Bay and the Super Trees.
In some sections of Gardens of the Bay, there was nobody else except for him and his “shadow”, whom he still couldn´t see most of the time but whom he could always feel like a bug on his neck. Despite his follower Singapore felt as safe as always. Alexander could see single women walking through the park which would hardly happen at all anywhere else.
Security, in every conceivable aspect, had been a cornerstone of Singapore´s success story over the past two or three decades, Alexander realized. He wasn´t sure if he would be able to stand the constant surveillance, with cameras monitoring literally every corner of the citystate, if he lived in Singapore permanently. Nevertheless, the locals had obviously come to accept a certain level of surveillance, and the lack of complete freedom that came with it, in exchange for a high level of safety and security.
On his way back to the hotel, he considered what to do about his follower, who seemed to have a continuing interest in him but had not got any closer. Alexander decided to let it pass for the moment and to see if he was still there the next morning, when he would head to the cemetery.
In his hotel room, he put the back of a chair under the doorknob as an additional safety precaution, in case the man outside wanted to pay him an unexpected visit during the night.
Alexander had not brought his gun to Singapore. First, he didn´t wear it most of the time in Germany, even when on duty, and second, he did not want to go through the hassle of filling in all the forms just to get his hardware through customs when he saw no need to bring it along in the first place.
In any event he expected he would be alert and only sleeping lightly during the night.
Chapter 2
Walla Walla - Washington State, USA
The two truckers left Crossroads, a café at a highway crossing outside Walla Walla in the State of Washington. Four hours from Portland, it was considered the perfect place for highwaymen, and some highwaywomen too, to fill up on coffee, calories and a few beers, not necessarily in that order, simply because it was the only such place in town. For truckers driving westward, it was the last stop before arriving at their final coastal destination in Portland or Seattle. However, the last thing, Walla Walla would want to be known for, was to just be called a truck stop.
Instead, the city of Walla Walla, named after the Walawalałáma tribe, first encountered by white men during the Lewis and Clark expedition 1806, was proud to be recognized as the capital of one of the leading wine regions in the United States, with more than 120 wineries using grapes grown on some 2,800 acres.
But to the two truckers, like most of their fellows, grapes and wine were of little interest compared to the traffic and weather on the Interstate.
The sun was not yet up and a fresh breeze was in the air. The two men in their flannel shirts had their thermos filled up with freshly brewed hot coffee. Both had had the early-bird breakfast in the restaurant, consisting of two eggs, bacon and hash browns, which was offered until sunup for an unbeatable low price. One carried a small bag of donuts, which was his favorite food on the road, and his belly said that he must have been on the road a lot. The other one, rather slim in comparison and much taller, had a toothpick in the corner of his mouth.
While they were approaching their trucks, which were parked behind a gas station from which the restaurant could be entered, the taller one of them poked the other one lightly into his big belly with his elbow to get his attention and pointed him to another truck which stood at the other end of the parking lot. They could see a man in the darkness, obviously repairing something.
“Hi fella, need a hand?”, the taller trucker yelled into the darkness towards the man bowing down at the back of the truck.
No response.
The two truckers got closer and could see that one of the tires had a flat.
“I had one just like that, two weeks ago in South Dakota, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. It took me hours to get it fixed alone. We could do it together in no time, what you say, man?”
No response.
The tall man and the one with the belly were now close enough to get a better view of the other trucker, who started to get equipment from the cabin of his truck. They could see that he looked Asian.
“Seems our Chinaman over there thinks he can do it alone.”, the bigger guy said to the other one.
“Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to Americans.”, the taller one said in return.
“Or he speaks no English.”
Both laughed out loud at the easy target they had found to pick on.
The man did not react to the casual racism. Instead, he continued his work, fixing the flat tire. He sprayed something into the tire and started a pump fill-up the tire with air again.
“Chinaman seems to have some magic tools. Have you ever seen fixing a flat like that?” the smaller said to the taller.
“No, but maybe he could loan it us.” the taller joked, winking to the other.
They stepped closer to the other man until they were just an arm’s length away from him. The taller was just about to say something when a fast and hard kick from the man´s left leg hit his right knee, making him bend and fall down. Before the taller one could react in any way, the man rammed his left elbow into his neck so hard, that his spine cracked. At almost the same time, the Asian landed his right fist forcefully in the solar plexus of the shorter trucker, leaving him gasping for air before falling backward. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The man looked around for any witnesses. There were none. The only manned truck, which had parked on the other side of the gas station, posed no risk, rather the opposite. The two trucks were a team and were part of the same operation, even though this was not immediately obvious as the trucks were branded differently, and carried license plates from different states.
Quickly, he pulled one after the other from the scene towards a dumpster close to the gas station and threw them in. Afterwards, he took a large piece of scrap wood in the dumpster and partially covered the bodies. This way, he figured, it may be a bit longer until the dead bodies were detected.
He walked back to the truck, put his equipment back in the cab, knocked a few times on the container his truck carried, hopped back in the driver´s seat and resumed his westward journey towards the rising sun.
Chapter 3
Fort Canning Park, Singapore - Singapore
The night had passed uninterrupted and his sleep had been deeper than he had expected, even factoring in the six hours’ time difference between Bonn and Singapore. Twelve hours on a plane had obviously taken its toll, regardless of how comfortable the flight had been.
Breakfast was served in the old section of the hotel, which dated back to colonial times. The ornaments on the walls of the high-ceilinged restaurant looked as if they had been there untouched since the days of Raffles.
Alexander settled for some eggs, whole grain bread, fruits and vegetables. He was still wary of coffee and went for some green tea instead. While reading a local newspaper, his eyes wandered around the room but his “shadow” from last night wasn´t there. Maybe he had spent the night outside, or had called it a day too, once he had followed Alexander back to the hotel. Either way, he would probably soon find out.
Back in his room he changed into light clothing to walk to the cemetery and put an extra T-Shirt into his small rucksack together with two bottles of water and an apple he had taken from the breakfast buffet. In preparation for the high humidity, he had packed plenty of shirts so he could change frequently, something he had learned from his previous visits to Singapore.
Stamford Road, named after Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, the founder of modern-day Singapore, was already packed with younger people dressed in light business clothing on their way to work. In the past, in this part of Singapore, he had rarely noticed older people roaming the streets, and assumed that they were staying in their air-conditioned rooms at home or travelling on the equally-cooled public underground transportation.
Alexander walked towards Fort Canning Park and Orchard Road. The small cemetery, where he was going to visit Cynthia in her eternal resting place, was located in a hilly area just outside Fort Canning Park. He remembered the way from the cemetery entrance to the grave well and walked straight to it. Fresh flowers had been put on the grave, probably by Cynthia´s parents before they had left for Hong Kong.
Standing there, memories of the times they had spent in Munich, Kitzbuhel or in Montana came flooding back. They’d known each other for less than two years but the time they’d been together, from the day they had met until the time she’d been killed, had engendered a depth and intensity of feelings he hadn’t experienced before.
He had a feeling at the nape of his neck. Up until now he hadn´t noticed his follower from yesterday, and he even thought for a moment that the stranger might have lost his interest in him - but no. Whoever he was, the man had either got better at following him undetected or already knew where he was going and had been waiting for him.
As Alexander stepped back from the grave, he turned around a bit and took in his surroundings. There was a man standing on a grassy hill between a few tall, old trees. He was an Asian man with black hair and sunglasses. Alexander estimated he was medium height and he was of slender build. He was dressed in a light blue suit and a white shirt with no tie and was staring down at Alex. The onlooker left no doubt, why he was there.
Alexander walked towards the exit of the cemetery as if he had not noticed his follower, and turned into Fort Channing Park. Let´s just see what is next on the man´s agenda, he thought to himself, as he followed the walkway to Raffle´s Garden on the other side of the park.
Fort Canning Park, located on a hill overlooking Singapore, was originally called Bukit Larangan and changed to Fort Canning in 1819 after the arrival of Stamford Raffles. The park was a mixture of a gigantic botanic garden and a rain forest as well as the remains of a former fort with thick walls, lookouts, cannons and barracks. Lush green leaves hung from huge very old trees and man-size ferns grew between and around these trees. Highly-colored birds of the kind only be found in this part of the world, could be heard singing everywhere.
At Raffles´s Garden, he had a good view of the Sands hotel on the peninsula, but he didn’t stop to admire the distant scenery. Instead, he took the opportunity to observe where the other guy was, however he seemed to have managed once again to disappear.
Continuing his walk, he was about to reach the small Le Jardin Café, the only catering place in the park, when he saw the man sitting on a bench in a rather relaxed mood, looking at him. Alexander tried to appear relaxed too, just as if nothing had happened or might be about to happen. Internally he put himself on alert and felt the tension in his muscles build.
“Alexander Granger?”, the man asked.
Alexander did not hear any threat in the man´s voice, rather the opposite. He relaxed a bit, before he answered with a question.
“Do you really need a confirmation of something you already know, after following me around since yesterday?”
“So, you did notice me following you after all? Even yesterday, when I thought I was being careful? There goes my next promotion.”, the man said with a smile on his face and got up. “Brandon Song, Interpol Singapore, at your service.” he said, offering his hand to Alexander.
“The name rings a bell. Cynthia mentioned it once, I believe. I am a bit behind on my reading about Interpol tactics, but isn’t there an easier way to approach a fellow law officer?” Alexander asked, relieved, after all, that his pursuer turned out to be a colleague rather than a threat.
“I wanted to be sure you weren´t followed …”
“I was followed!”
“… by somebody other than me.”
Now, both couldn’t suppress a smile.
“Let´s have something to drink in the Café. There is something important we need to talk about.”, Brandon Song offered.
“Let´s go for it. Le Jardin is a perfect place for important talks.”
“Agreed, one of the few places in the whole city with no cameras.”
“Seems to be very important and confidential, whatever it is you want to tell me?”
“Indeed.” Brandon replied, smiling again.
Cynthia had mentioned her colleague Brandon Song on several occasions. They were classmates in police school and had both climbed up the ranks quickly, surpassing many of their peers. If he recalled correctly, Brandon held black belts in several martial arts, Taekwondo and Aikido among them.
They sat down outside where, in addition to the lack of cameras watching, there were no ears listening-in either.
Both ordered green tea and water before Brandon started with a surprising introduction.
“Interpol had a call from your superiors at the BKA in Bonn, just after you departed on your flight. So, please feel officially assigned to the developing case which I am about to describe to you …”
“You talked to Willibald Reuter?” said Alexander, wondering what could be so important to Interpol, that his services were officially requested from his boss.
“Yes, I guess that is the name I heard from my boss. I wasn´t on the call, but got confirmation that I was to approach you directly and, well …”
“… recruit me?”, Alexander suggested.
“Something along those lines, yes.”, Brandon confirmed. “We’ve got some issues with containers”
“I guess, Interpol hasn´t just moved into the logistics business?”
“Not really.” Brandon said, shaking his head. “But we had an incident with one of those commercial containers, the kind you see on those huge container ships, cruising the oceans, and on trucks clogging the highways.”
Alexander nodded and started to get an idea of why Interpol were showing an interest in him.
“I guess, you have heard about my container story from a while back and made some connections?”
“Fast and smart thinking, just as I was told you would be.”
Both exchanged a grin.
It had happened several months ago, when Willibald Reuter assigned Alexander to a new case involving the mysterious murder of a fellow BKA agent. His boss had told him that his dead colleague was onto something about a missing container and that his body had been found in an empty container in the port of Hamburg.
After he had made himself familiar with the brief, Alexander had taken the first flight to Hamburg and met with the local harbor police.
