Arnivisca had booked us an immediate flight back to England, but we had a holdover time in Germany. We all sat in the terminal and waited for our plane to arrive and carry us the rest of the way. During this time, I watched Arnivisca and Chavez communicate frantically with London over their cell phones. We hadn't been told what the deal was yet, but I was sure that it wasn't good.
Finally when we were fairly sure that it wouldn't be anytime soon that a plane would be arriving, Arnivisca made us set our beepers and then turned us loose on the town. I had been to a German College in my younger days, so I invited Krystal to accompany me to one of the finer bars I had become familiar with.
We left the airport and hailed a cab, then rode the autobahn into town. We passed one of the Colleges I had attended and I pointed it out. Finally we were further into the town and I told the driver to stop at one of the local pubs that I faintly remembered. We stepped into the dark and musty environment lit mostly by the stubby candles that rested on each of the tables. There were only three occupants, all were dressed in leather and had nearly bald, shaven heads. One of them wore a black t-shirt that displayed the slogan Deutschland vos Deutschlanders – Germany For Germans, a popular Neo-Nazi slogan.
Apparently the bar I knew was under new management. I grabbed Krystal's arm and prepared to make a hasty retreat back out the door, but it was too late, one of them had spotted us. He spouted an angry stream of German that I pretended not to understand, actually I had taken German during my college days, and this Gentleman was comparing me to a female dogs reproductive system.
The blank look I had made my face display made him shake his head and then come again in heavily accented, but understandable English. "You there, Americana. Get out, only real Germans may drink here, and take your whore with you!"
I took a step forward, prepared to defend Krystal and my rights and freedoms, but Krystal grabbed my arm and tried to pull me out of the establishment, saying "Come on Casey, he's not worth it."
I started to follow here, but the man had say my earlier attempt to defend myself and apparently took offence at that. He got off his bar stool and started stepping towards me. "Englishman a big man? How about we remove you head from your shoulders and then we see how big you are? Then maybe we have some fun with your woman, huh?"
"That won't be necessary." I stated as he closed the remaining distance. Then I took a step forward and delivered a sharp kick to his instep, along with an elbow to his solar plexus, toppling the huge man.
My hand reached up under my leather jacket to grasp the Berretta 92-F that was concealed there in a shoulder holster. I produced it and aimed it at the bartender who was busy reaching under the bar for something. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," I commented, motioning with my pistol for him to move away from whatever he was reaching for.
The man that I had beaten down was becoming conscious again. He looked up at me as he gripped at his chest. "You fucking American pig!" He cursed, but did not try to get up or do anything that was threatening.
I glanced down at him, still holding my pistol steady. "Actually, I'm Canadian. A pleasure frequenting your establishment, gentlemen" I said.
I then looked at Krystal and started to back towards the door. I never saw the attack coming, must have been someone by the door or walking into the place. I felt something heavy hit me on the head, and then I fell to the ground. Blackness consumed my vision and I was out.
I awoke to the annoying sound of humming fluorescent lights. I slowly opened my eyes and found myself in a non-descript room. Wooden floor, painted walls, could have been any room in all of Germany. The windows had been covered, preventing me from seeing outside the building.
I was in a sitting position and when I tried to flex my arms, I found that they had been bound to the chair I was sitting on. There was a small table a few feet from me; on it was my pistol and wallet, beeper and other items that had been in my wallet.
I heard the distinct noise of a door opening behind me and I tried to crane my neck to see who it was, but to no avail, they stood directly behind me. "Don't worry Mr. Molnar, you'll soon see more of me than you can stand."
I brought my head around to look forward, but said nothing. Footsteps brought into view the man that was speaking to me. He was a regular looking man, average in all ways. He stood a little less than six feet tall, Caucasian, brown hair with a thinning hairline. He wore all black, black combat pants, jungle boots, and tactical sweater. He had a Browning High Power 9mm holstered at his side. The average look he held would have thrown most people off, but I recognized him. Gerhard Arnhiemer, a big shot in the Neo-Nazi underworld, constantly under investigation, responsible for dozens of murders and maimings. He had gone totally underground about a year ago, shedding all of his civilian bank accounts, credit cards, etc. Instead he had decided to channel all of his time and money into the Neo-Nazi movement, trying to mould it into his own twisted fashion.
He stood in front of me, hands on his hips. "Well know, what are we going to do with you?"
"Go to Hell." I said simply.
"You are hardly in a position to use any profanity when referring to me. You fucking Americans think you can do anything don't you? You walk into one of our operations centers and then beat one of my men and wave a gun around. What the hell were you thinking?" Said Arnhiemer, his voice growing high and squeaky with annoyance at the end of his statement.
"I told this to your man in the bar, I'm not an American, I'm Canadian." I said, slightly annoyed.
I watched Arnhiemer's face turn a glowing red. The muscles of his face tensed violently as if he was about to lash out. Finally he did, a roundhouse punch to my jaw. I could feel my lip split and tasted blood.
"You American Son of a Bitch! You think you can come in here and do anything you want. I will teach you American Bastards." With that he reached down to his waist and unholstered his browning.
"We are rather crude around here, having as few supplies as we have," he said, producing a silencer and screwing it onto the muzzle of the pistol. "I hope you won't force me to use one of these unsophisticated methods."
I bit my tongue, but managed to keep my mouth shut this time.
Arnhiemer crouched down so that he was face-to-face with me. "You don't react to this like a normal American tourist. That makes me think that you are with a group. What faction would this be, hmmm? Red Cell, perhaps?"
"Where is the girl?" I demanded. "If you ensure her safety, I might be a little more willing to talk, hmm?"
"You seem to think that you control the situation, trust me, you don't. If you fail to talk or cause me one little bit of excess trouble, I promise you, I will slit her throat from ear to ear." He retaliated, smiling, knowing that he finally had a pressure point.
"Where is she?" I asked again.
"Nearby, out of the way. Now, we were discussing what unit you were with, shall we continue?" He asked.
"Not until I know that the girl will remain unharmed." I said.
"Only you can ensure that, mien Herr, with your willing cooperation." He countered, leaning down to come face to face with me.
"No deal." I said.
The words cut through the man with a knife of fury. "I hate Americans, your disregard for life, your urge to dispute everything that we trying to give you, you Americans, you…"
His words were cut off by the sound of automatic gunfire from the room outside the one I was in. Arnhiemer turned, pulling the browning from its holster at his side. He stepped towards the door and held his pistol ready to fire. A three round burst cut through the door and into Arnhiemer. He fell to the floor soundlessly, pistol skittering away from him.
I pulled a little tighter at my bindings, trying to find a weakness in the cord to break out from. I wasn't sure who was doing the shooting, but any help at this point I deemed good.
The door was slammed open by a large man carrying a one man battering ram, he pulled away and three of the intruders burst into the room, all dressed in black combats, CQC vests and body armor, and each of them brandishing MP5 A4 submachine guns. The front of their body armor displayed the word POLIZEZ, the German word for police. I felt a definite amount of relief when I saw that.
Two of them continued out of the room and moved on to clear the rest of the building. Then, the remaining one produced a knife and began to cut away at the bindings that held my hands in place.
"Thanks," I said sincerely, "you guys got here just in time."
The man stopped and looked closely at me. All I could see of him were his eyes behind his ballistic goggles running along me.
"Casey? Casey Molnar?" He asked incredulously.
"Yeah," I said carefully. "Why?"
The man reached up and took off his ballistic goggles and balaclava. I recognized the man, his hair was a little bit longer and his face was a little more marked with age, but I definitely knew him.
"Duke!" I grabbed his proffered hand and shook it vigorously, then pulled him into a friendly hug.
"How the hell are you, Duke?" I asked taking another look at him. Although most of his combat gear covered him, I could see that he had grown about another two inches and lost some weight since the last time I had seen him.
"Fine, just fine. By God, how long has it been, ten, twelve…" he started.
"A dog's age at least." I finished.
"Its just great to see you, but what in god's name are you doing here?" He asked obviously confused as to why I was sitting, tied to a chair in the middle of the headquarters of a white supremacist group.
"My group and I got held over in Germany on our way back to London, speaking of which, you didn't happen to turn loose a girl did you, probably in the same position I was in?"
Duke looked at me with a wince on his face. "Kind of, but not quite." He said in a pained voice.
"Why, what happened?!" I asked, my heart skipping a beat. I didn't wish to see Krystal dead.
"Well, when we found her, it looked like she had convinced one of them to turn her loose, then she tried to escape and they caught her, and…" he trailed off.
"What?" I asked, fearing the worse.
"Well, she killed two of them with her bare hands, broke one's leg, another's arm, then smashed his nose through his skull." He finished.
"Oh." I said simply, sobering at the thought of seeing her killing these men. "What can I say, the fewer terrorists we have to worry about, the better." I said.
"Yeah," Duke said. "So what's the deal? What is this new group your with? I told you when I got on GSG-9 after Kosovo, then I get nothing from you?" He said in his sarcastic voice.
"Yeah, well, this group is actually secret, so I really couldn't just call you up and tell you about it. We call it Rainbow, I'm on team six, its mostly covert, real black ops, CIA style, you know?"
"Something like the war, yeah I get it. Heard of you guys too, you were the ones that shut Vezerjadi down, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but that was before my time, I was still in JTF at that time, I got out and joined about a year after that, they came and got me actually."
"I know that." He said soberly.
A brief burst of gunfire brought him back to his mission. "Anyway," he said, putting his balaclava and goggles back on, "back to work, here take this." He offered, tossing me his glock pistol. "Find me after, we'll catch up, just like old times."
"Just like old times." I agreed.
He stepped out of the room leaving me alone. I looked down at Arnhiemer's corpse.
"I told you, I'm Canadian." I said for the final time, then left the room as well.