Midnight in Berlin (23 page)

“You and Christoph—are you…” He blushed. “Only Michael told me—”

“Yeah. We are.” I didn’t add, “You got a problem with that?” because hey, this was Ulf—so damn PC that even if he did have a problem, he’d never dream of admitting to it. Plus, it had just occurred to me how much he’d missed today. “Uh, did Michael fill you in on all the other stuff?”

“About where we came from?” Ulf ducked his head, locks of hair falling haphazardly around his face. He looked around twelve. “Yeah.” It came out a little muffled.

“And…you’re okay about it?”

He shrugged but didn’t look up. I figured that was teen-speak for, “No, and I don’t want to talk about it.” Poor kid. I hoped Schreiber was burning in hell for what he’d done.

I wasn’t sure if Ulf would welcome a hug, so I patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Can I get you anything? Uh, a hot drink?” Jeez, I’d be offering to tuck him in and read him a bedtime story next.

“I’m okay,” he said, lifting his head to flash me a faint smile.

I stumbled back to Christoph’s room and fell into bed, barely pausing to take my pants off first. The day was catching up with me fast—I wasn’t sure I’d ever been this weary in my life before. I dozed fitfully, waking when Christoph slipped under the comforter and put his arms around me. The scent of him eased some of the tension I’d been feeling even in my sleep. I pressed back into the warmth of his embrace and muttered something even I didn’t catch.

“It’s okay,” he murmured in my ear, a low vibration I could have listened to all night. “Go back to sleep.”

Breakfast the next morning was so late we might as well have called it lunch. Silke cooked bacon and sausages, and I wondered if I was the only one who felt a little weirded out being served food by a killer. I guess it helped to take her mind off her dad.

“Are you going back to the wolves?” I asked when she finally sat down next to Jon to eat something herself.

Silke nodded.

“Jon? How about you?”

“I’m staying with Silke.” He smiled, putting an arm around her skinny waist. “The zoo dudes say it’s okay if I don’t get turned, but I’m still going to. I want to share it all with her.”

Great. Next time anyone hurt one of her family members—assuming she had any left—there’d be the two of them to tear out his throat. I figured I’d be giving those zoo dudes a wide berth from now on. Not that I hadn’t planned to anyhow. “Well, take care, okay?”

“You too, man. Maybe I’ll see you around, hey?”

“Maybe.” I smiled back so damn hard my face started to ache.

Michael leaned forward on the table, looking tense but resolute. “We’re going too. Björn and Patrick and me. My family has a farm near Regensburg. They raise chickens. They’ll have plenty of room for us to stay, and it’s near to the forest.” He was staring straight at Christoph. I realized he was waiting for permission.

Christoph nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Michael visibly relaxed. He turned to his right, where Ulf was picking at some fried potatoes, having demolished half his body weight of meat. “Ulf, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, but…” Ulf shook his head. “My family is in Berlin.”

“Guess all the kids are growing up and leaving the nest, huh?” I muttered to Christoph.

He gave me a sidelong look. “I didn’t realize you were such a family man.”

“Hell, no. I’m looking forward to getting you to myself at last.”

For a moment, Christoph looked startled. He pushed his chair back and stood. I guessed it must be beneath his dignity as pack leader to do the dishes. At any rate, he carried his plate to the sink and swept out of the kitchen. I decided it must be beneath my dignity too and followed, although I didn’t like to examine too closely just what about my position in the pack warranted it.

I knew where he was going, though, so I was damned if I’d let him go alone. Sure enough, he headed straight for Schreiber’s office and switched on the computer.

“You know, he may take a couple days to think this over. It’s a big thing we’re asking—you can’t expect him to answer right away.”

“Maybe not,” Christoph agreed, but he still opened up the email program.

Damn connection speeds. It took around a year and a half for the emails to come through—but there among the sales crap and the Viagra ads was a message from Dr. L.

P.

I am unable to come to you but suggest you bring him to me.

There followed an address with a Berlin postcode. I recognized the first three digits as from an area way out on the edge of town.

Hot damn. We had him. I stared at the screen, half thinking I’d just imagined it, and the email would disappear if I took my eyes away.

“Unbelievable,” Christoph breathed—and that snapped me out of it.

“Too damn right. Christoph, listen to me. This is too easy—too perfect. It has to be a trap.”

His eyes narrowed—and then he shook his head. “No. Leitner has no reason to suspect anything.”

“But he’s invited us to his secret lair!” It sounded corny when I said it out loud, like I’d walked out of an old Bond movie. Then again, for all I knew, Leitner’s hideout came complete with booby-trapped lift and a tank of piranhas in the cellar.

Probably not a fluffy white cat, though. In the circumstances.

“He’s invited us because we promised him a breakthrough. He’s a scientist—he can’t help but be curious.”

“Then why doesn’t he come here like we asked him to?”

Christoph huffed impatiently. “Maybe he feels more secure on his own ground.”

“If he doesn’t suspect anything, why would the guy need to feel secure?”

“I don’t know!” Christoph snapped, throwing his hands up. He pushed his chair back from the desk, narrowly missing my toes, and stood. “If you think I’m going to waste this opportunity—”

“I’m not asking you to waste anything, okay?” We were practically nose to nose, although the volume had gotten so high we could have heard each other three streets away. “Just…damn it.” I ran a hand through my hair, mainly to stop myself borrowing Christoph’s desk-thumping trick. “We just need to be careful, okay?”

“Of course I’ll be careful.” Christoph was still glowering.

“
We
,” I corrected. “I said we, okay? Like I’m going to let you walk into Leitner’s damn trap on your own?”

By the look on his face, I guessed that was just what he had thought. Bastard. Did last night mean
nothing
to him?

God, I was stupid. I turned away, my throat tight.

There was a gentle touch on my shoulder. “Leon? I’m sorry.”

I forced a laugh. “What for?”

I got a twisted smile in return. “For a lot of things. But right now, I’m sorry for doubting you.” He gave an awkward shrug. “Although if it does turn out to be a trap, I’d just as soon you were in a position to rescue me again.”

There was a weird tightness in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to go away or not. “Yeah, well, tough. Until this mess is cleared up, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Christoph’s touch fell away from my arm. “Until this is cleared up,” he repeated and nodded. He looked away, and I wondered what I’d done to upset him now.

“So when do you want to go pay a visit to this guy? Or do we have to call him up and make an appointment like any other doc?”

“Soon,” he said, still seeming kind of distant. “Are you ready to go now?”

Okay, in my dictionary,
soon
and
now
were two whole different things. But what the hell, the sooner we got it over with, the better, I guessed. “Yeah,” I lied. “I’m ready.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I didn’t know what to say to Ulf when we left, so I just said we were going out and if we didn’t come back by this evening he should get the hell out of there. He laughed, and I didn’t bother explaining it wasn’t a joke. I figured he’d be able to work that out for himself if it came down to it.

The drive out to Leitner’s address wasn’t a pleasant one. And I don’t mean the scenery wasn’t up to much. Hell, I didn’t even notice the scenery. All I could think of was that we were driving into the lion’s den. Maybe I should have tried harder to persuade Christoph not to go? But once we’d sent that email we’d been committed to this. For good or evil.

I guess I’d expected Leitner’s place to be some big old house set in its own grounds, with plenty of room for the lab rats to run and play. It turned out to be a modern building right at the end of a residential street. We pulled up in front of the wide-open gates and stared.

“This…isn’t right,” Christoph said.

That was the understatement of the year. I checked the email printout. “It’s the address he gave us. I guess we better check it out.”

Christoph drove in and parked the car in a small parking lot around the back. It was overlooked by tiny plots of garden filled with bright flowerbeds and old people parked in chairs, soaking up the sun in their arthritic bones. “This isn’t a research center,” I muttered as we walked around to the main entrance. “It’s a fucking retirement home.”

We wandered up a wheelchair-friendly concrete path to the front door, which opened easily, leading to a bland entrance lobby. The buttoned-up woman behind the desk didn’t even look up as we went in.

“This has to be the wrong address,” I hissed to Christoph.

He didn’t answer, just walked stiffly up to the receptionist. “Is there a Dr. Franz Leitner here?”

She took off her reading glasses and looked up with an eerie lack of reaction to our appearance. “Dr. Leitner? Yes, of course. You’re here to visit? One moment, please.” She picked up a phone; dialed a number. “Claudia? There are visitors for Dr. Leitner.” Hanging up, she flashed an artificial smile in our vague direction. “Claudia will be with you shortly.” Then she shoved her glasses back on her pointy nose and looked down again. Conversation over.

I was liking this less and less. It didn’t improve matters any when Claudia turned out to be dressed in a nurse’s uniform. She was a young black woman with cornrow hair, a big ass and keen eyes. “You’re here to see Dr. Leitner? How lovely—he doesn’t normally get visitors, the poor dear. Are you family?”

“No,” I muttered, just as Christoph said, “Yes.” One penciled-on eyebrow lifted a fraction. “Uh, I’m not, he is,” I clarified awkwardly. I mean, hell, my German is pretty damn good but no one was going to buy me as a native.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. It’s this way—he’s on the ground floor. Not very good with stairs anymore, I’m afraid.” She shepherded us through a door with a push-button opening and along a corridor. “If I know him, he’ll be playing on his computer—here we are.” She knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer. “Dr. Leitner? I’ve brought you some visitors.” Her tones had changed from normal conversational to extra bright-and-breezy for grade-school kids and the hard of thinking.

My bad feeling wasn’t getting any better. We followed her into a narrow room with a bed along one wall, a door off to what I guessed must be a bathroom, and an old guy in a soft leather chair. He had a laptop computer on a little table in front of him.

Dr. Franz Leitner looked as old as Methuselah, although if he’d still been working when the Wall came down, he probably hadn’t seen ninety yet. He was all shrunk in on himself, with a wrinkly bald head surrounded by wisps of pure white hair. He looked up as we went in. “Ah! Excellent. Come in, sit down.”

We sat on the bed, as there was nowhere else. “Dr. Leitner—” Christoph began.

Leitner cut him off. “You’re here from Peter?”

It took me a moment to realize he meant Schreiber. “Uh, yeah,” I said.

He gave me a sharp look. “Ah! The American.” His beady little eyes fixed on Christoph. “And you are?”

“Sven Friedrichs,” Christoph lied. None of the emails had mentioned his scarring, just a vague report on having to “discipline” him, so we’d hoped it’d pass.

Apparently it was the right thing to say. Leitner beamed. “Excellent! Peter gives me splendid reports of your progress.” He frowned. “But where is Peter?”

“He’s—” For the second time, Christoph got interrupted.

“Would you and your guests like some coffee and biscuits, Dr. Leitner?” The nurse was still being aggressively chirpy.

“No, no!” Dr. Leitner scolded her irritably. “We mustn’t be interrupted. This is important government research!”

Her brown eyes twinkled. “Oh, I am sorry, Dr. Leitner. Perhaps when you’ve finished setting the world to rights?” She all but winked at us as she bustled out again.

I felt sick.

“Dr. Leitner.” Christoph leaned forward. “I would be very much interested to see the data you’ve collected on the project.”

“Of course, of course!” Leitner beamed and shut the laptop. Pushing the table aside, he got up stiffly and doddered over to a cabinet. He pulled out a file and laid it open on the bed.

I flicked through. It was full of faded photocopies of official-looking reports, many of them marked with the German equivalent of
Top Secret
.

None of them was less than twenty years old. “Where’s the recent stuff?” I asked.

“The file is up to date,” Leitner said tetchily.

There was a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach as Christoph peered over my shoulder at the yellowing documents.

“That’s impossible,” he snapped. “There’s nothing here since the reunification!”

“Ach, the Western authorities.” Leitner made a dismissive gesture. “They have been slow to recognize my work, but I feel confident—”

“Slow?” Christoph looked like a guy who really needed a desk to thump. “For God’s sake, you’re telling us this project was officially shut down
over twenty years ago
? What about your emails to Schreiber? You told him to turn new people. To provide data. What was done with all this data?”

Leitner shuffled to his seat and sat down heavily. “All in here,” he said, patting his laptop with affection. “And in here, of course,” he added, tapping his head. He smiled.

Christoph lost it. Totally. He surged forward, grabbing Leitner by his shirt front and hauling him bodily out of his seat. “This is it? My whole life, ruined because of a deluded old man living in the past?”