Chapter Twelve

"Finding the Head of the Snake"

We made it to gate twenty-two just as the passengers were beginning to board. Flight 97 would eventually land in Germany and I wondered why not Italy?

The waiting area was full, although Mr. Alpati was easily spotted. Not everyone could afford a designer-made plaid suit coat. He stood out from the crowd and we approached him cautiously. Mr. Quinn had picked me up at Ami's building and during the ride to the airport, we decided to try our best not to make a scene. The plan was to simply slip up behind him and jab a gun into his back before asking him to come with us quietly.

In our line of work, however, even well-laid plans are often ruined. He spotted us before we'd reached the gate and quickly began worming his way through the line. It was sheer luck that someone complained and even better luck that the certain someone was a mountain of a man who didn't appreciate anyone cutting in line ahead of him.

Alpati had been held up and now a hostess was doing her best to intervene and calm both men down. This gave Quinn and me the opportunity to draw our weapons and shout out our orders for him to give up.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he replied. "Not when I'm this close to success, gentleman."

I had no idea what he was talking about but did notice something peculiar. His accent had changed. I couldn't pinpoint its origin, although I figured Quinn could. My mentor had fought in the war and had traveled across most of Europe.

"He's German," Quinn said with quiet realization before I'd even asked the question. One of his thugs being named Gunther suddenly made much more sense.

The standoff had lasted mere seconds before Alpati made his move. For being a man of advanced years, he was pretty quick. Before we realized it, he'd grabbed the young hostess and stuck a gun to her temple. A Colt Python as a matter of fact.

As soon as he did that, chaos erupted and passengers ran screaming in every direction. I was pleased about that. It meant there were fewer people blocking our shot. However, it also gave Alpati the opportunity to step closer to the passenger bridge.

"Hold it right there," Quinn warned, pulling back the hammer of his revolver.

"You and your government are fools," Mr. Alpati sneered, keeping the young lady directly in front of him. "Nazi Germany will rise again and be more powerful than ever."

"Der Fuhrer is dead. In case you missed it, he killed himself. The Third Reich will never be resurrected," Quinn pointed out. "I'm pretty sure that was decided during the Potsdam Conference."

"There will be no Entnazifizierung," Alpati continued. "My colleagues and I will make certain of that."

I wasn't sure how this was going to play out and there was one important question I had to ask. "Why did you murder Sadie Boone?"

Something I was certain about was the man's inflated ego. He would never ignore a chance to boast about how he had apparently fooled us all.

"The girl was working for us but lost sight of the dream and threatened to turn all our hard work over to the police. I couldn't allow that to happen. Not when we are so close to victory."

I quickly glanced over at Quinn. The veins in his neck were bulging and he was gritting his teeth so hard, I was afraid he'd break his jaw. I knew for a fact that Quinn lost three brothers in the war and he had never given up the idea of somehow getting vengeance. I didn't want Alpati dead. Not just yet. He had too much to explain.

"What's your name?" Quinn growled while advancing a couple more steps.

"If you come any closer, this innocent young woman will sacrifice her life for the cause," the older man threatened before lifting his head proudly. "I am Fredierich Scheid, member of the New Nazi Party. I will no longer pretend to not know who you are Colonel Quinn," Scheid continued, appearing as if the devil himself had taken over the man. "In fact, I oversaw the execution of two of your brothers myself."

I wasn't sure what I was going to do if Quinn rushed the man, but I needed to plan what to do in case that happened.

"You are wanted in several allied countries for committing numerous war crimes," Quinn pointed out while keeping a steady yet deadly aim.

"A crime is only committed when an act causes offense," Scheid explained. "America is a spoiled and mongrel nation. Soon, it will suffer as Germany has. You too will know poverty and hunger, and what it feels like to have everything you have built fall apart before your very eyes."

During this little speech, Scheid had been backing down the passenger walkway with the frightened hostess in tow. We carefully pursued, but now his back was to the wall, which in this case, was the door of the plane.

It was now or never and Quinn whispered for me to take the shot. I aimed but couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. Each time I tried, the girl's face moved into my sights.

To complicate matters, the pilot stepped into the picture, concerned about what was holding everyone up. He took one look at us and then the situation before attempting to return to the plane, only to find the barrel of a Colt revolver pointing at his head.

The girl had been tossed to the floor at the same time. It had all happened so quickly, we didn't have the chance to reach the plane before Scheid had stepped on board with his new hostage.

His smile as the pilot shut the door was pure evil, and all Quinn and I could do was to stand there empty-handed as Fredierich Scheid made his escape.