Chapter Two
Schwarzes Kaffeeheuse, Saltzburg, Germany
March 27th, 1943, 2:17 p.m.
The waiter pointed to Wilhem Schultz's new supervisor, Chief Inspektor Karl Wielen, who was sitting at a table and perusing a magazine with a demitasse in hand.
Schultz flipped his overcoat's collar up and drew it closer to his body to muster all the warmth he could possibly get. True that the snow was all gone except from the mountains, but March was still a nasty and cold month in Germany. As soon as he joined Wielen at the outside table, the older man closed the magazine and extended a hand to Schultz. "I'm glad you could make it, Schultz. My brother has nothing but good things to say about your work."
Schultz nodded as he shook Wielen's hand once and peered at the publication. "I thought you did not deal with propaganda," he remarked.
"Saltzburg is a much smaller branch than Braslau, Schultz. Therefore, I am involved in many more aspects of our departments. Would you care for some coffee?"
"I would, actually. I am still a little cold. The car was late, and I had to stand on the platform for over half an hour." Wielen scowled and flagged down an attendant.
"Noch zwei, bitte," the ash blonde Inspektor commanded and held up two fingers. The waiter agreed and disappeared as swiftly as he had come. "They were late? What time did your train come in?"
"1330, punctual as usual."
"I apologize for that. Next time, the car will come five minutes early." As soon as the coffee arrived and the server departed, Schultz removed his leather gloves. The calescent beverage was all too welcoming to his chapped lips, and he inhaled the rich scent before consuming some.
"I must ask if my transfer here will become permanent, Herr Wielen. There are affairs that I have left unsettled back home, and I would ask for some time to do so should that be the case."
"You have shown your dedication to your country by coming here out of blind faith. If you stay here in Saltzburg, it is purely by your own decision...after you complete this mission. Max only suggested you to me because I need someone who's extremely shrewd and expeditious for this job. I've yet to become acquainted with why you are nicknamed "Der Panter"."
At the mention of his alias, Schultz set his cup down and made an aphoristic snicker through his nose. "What is it that you need of me, Herr Wielen?"
"Do you know who Fritz Kolbe is?"
"∫a. Minister of Foreign Defense."
"There has been some...suspicion about his loyalties recently. These are of course, perhaps rumors...but then again, perhaps not. An informant in Casablanca has told us this, and though it's not been proven yet, he might have been involved in releasing information about our troops to the Enemy."
"That's why I was transferred to internal security," Schultz nodded and placed his hands over the steamy beverage for warmth.
"∫a. There is a man a few tables over to your left with brown hair and hazel eyes in a black overcoat and hat. Do you see him?" Schultz's eyes moved in that direction and glanced peripherally at his target, who was alone reading a newspaper.
"I do. Who is he?"
"Your objective. He's an American."
"Hah. I've heard rumors from Max; he wasn't kidding about your department's paranoia. How do you know he's-" Schultz's head turned towards the man, who had just pulled out a cigarette, and cupped the fire underneath his hands as he lit it. Moments later, he was successful. "I stand corrected, mein Herr."
"His name is Donald Granger. His papers say that he has been here since 1942, and that he's a reporter for a newspaper in the States on assignment. He's researching, of course, but I have doubts that it's for the public media."
"What specific time did he get here in 1942?"
"January," Wielen smirked. "He must be fairly intelligent, though...he managed to slip under our border searches numerous times. We think he was running supplies out to the French through Belgium, but, we've never been too sure. He's very good, and also very deadly, which is why we have so little information about him."
"And he's not doing that anymore? You think he's involved with Kolbe somehow?"
"He's been seen "interviewing" the man in public areas around here." Wielen retrieved a silver plated case that was beside his coffee cup and offered Schultz one, who denied. He shrugged as he lit the cigarette. "Thought you were cold, Schultz."
"The coffee seems to be working...and I don't smoke. They say it is bad for you."
"Ach...scheilße. (Ah, bullshit.) Doktoren kennen nichts, (Doctors don't know anything) " Wielen dismissed his underling and brought the ashtray closer to his hand. Schultz stroked his mahogany eyes that were threatening to close soon if he did not receive some sleep and filled himself with another dose of caffeine. "Nothing could be farther from the truth. We don't know who this man truly is or why he is truly in Saltzburg. We also are suspecting the Foreign Minister of treason but to be sure of it before we accuse him of such a thing."
"Yes, it could cause us trouble...especially with the Austrians."
"How do you think he sends his information?"
"A messenger, of course. If this Granger, you say, is really that smart and met with Kolbe in the public, they would have talked about nothing but Kolbe's official affairs. Did anyone hear any of the conversations?"
"Nicht, nein, which is why we need you, Schultz. An apartment has been set up for you--and the car will take you there when you are ready." Wielen inhaled from his cigarette again and considerately blew his smoke away from Schultz.
"Has a story been also established for me?"
"Ach, no. Max told me that you were resourceful. All you needed was a place to stay, some transportation, and your assignment. Is that correct?"
"Yes on the apartment. No on the car, danke. I'd prefer to walk over there. Do we know which newspaper Granger 'corresponds' with?"
"It is said The Cleveland Press. That information comes from our telegraph office."
"When was the last time he sent something to the States?"
"I don't know. Perhaps the office could inform you."
"Nein, I'd like to keep away from them if possible. But, if I could look at some of his old sent messages, I might be able to anticipate his next move. And possibly Kolbe's, too."
"Can you read English?"
"Was?"
"Can you read English? I know you can speak it, but...-"
"I have been...learning some," Schultz's eyes dropped down to the cup in front of him, and he finished off the remainder of the beverage.
"They are written in English. And in code. Lots of American idioms and expressions are used that we cannot translate for sense into our language. I told you he was good." Wielen took one last drag of his cigarette and extinguished it.
"In that case, he is probably consulting mitt the local paper, ∫a?" His superior nodded, and Schultz donned his gloves again. "Amongst the few belongings I brought, I managed to take my camera mitt me."
The Inspektor laughed softly, for he understood Schultz's plan and signaled to the server for the bill. "Will you still be needing those telegrams?"
"Not necessary, mein Herr. Danke for the kaffee."
"Bittescheine, and good wishes to you. Promise to keep in touch mitt us."
"You have my word, Wielen." Schultz made no move to salute his employer; instead, he simply shook his hand and departed.
Outside the Hoover Building, Washington, D.C.
January 4th, 2001, 10:39 p.m.
"Let me through, please. I need to see Lieutenant Carson Raines," Skinner raised his voice and kept his identification out in his right hand as he elbowed his way through the throng of media, onlookers, and police. One officer's thumb guided the Assistant Director to an African American six two male in his late forties. Carson had just been giving patient orders on his cell phone, and as he was approached by Skinner, he lit a cigar.
"Ah, so you're Walter Skinner, huh? You're the first of what will probably the biggest feds' convention ever known to D.C. in five years," the lieutenant puffed on his cigar as he spoke.
"I've been told that two of my agents...well, one of them still is..." Skinner hesitated as he thought of Mulder but continued on. "That they were in the building earlier this evening. Do you know what the present situation is?"
"I do, and I'll gladly inform you of all of what I know, provided one thing." Raines flipped his lighter shut and held the cigar away from his mouth for a moment.
"And that is?" As if I had no idea already, Skinner thought.
"We got the reins for this situation well in hand, Skinner. I don't need any extra help. You're here for moral support and background information...nothing more. You know these men and how they can handle themselves."
"Yes, that's true, and I understand. But there's someone I'd like to call who completely knows how one of them thinks. She won't interfere."
"Whatever, as long as I have your promise. All right, here's how it happened. At 8:28 p.m., the suspect probably entered the building, maybe a little sooner. We're not sure quite yet. However, we do know that security for the evening has been immobilized. The silent alarm was tripped three minutes later. We got here half an hour ago and have been setting up shop ever since then."
That was all Skinner needed for the moment. He pulled out his cell phone and made a call. "Scully," came an exhausted voice from the other half.
"This is Skinner. I need you to come down to the office right away."
"Okay. What's wrong, sir?"
"What's wrong? Have you turned on your TV lately?"
"No, sir, I was...just reading," she yawned, and he heard first the rustling of sheets. Next came the turning of a doorknob, and then finally, the click of a remote. "Oh my God. Skinner, is that you?"
"I'm still here, Scully, I didn't go anywhere." Then he realized that she was looking at him from a camera's lens, and he whipped himself around to face the patrol car. "It's not a good set of circumstances, Scully. There were shots fired; security's been non-responsive to the police. We just don't know much right now, and I think that if we can make contact with them inside-"
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," was all she said, and Skinner disconnected his side of the call.
"Bingo, we got 'em," Raines said triumphantly with a mouthful of cigar. "Who'd you call?"
"Another one of my agents, like I said. What do you mean? Sniper shot?" The assistant director became hopeful; perhaps this wouldn't be a nasty state of affairs for Mulder and Scully for once. Time after time when they were involved in a kidnapping, it did not always end well for everyone. In fact, someone usually died.
"Ah, we're not that lucky, Skinner. But we have an approximate idea of what we're dealing with and possibly where they are. I'll be receiving a printout of my roof team's digital binoculars in just a minute."
"Well, what're they describing to you anyhow?"
"Hmm...three white males and two Latino females."
"What about medical conditions? Are any of them wounded?"
"Don't know. But I imagine the picture will tell me about everything we want to know...well...maybe most of the blanks," Raines sucked some more on his cigar and ran it over to the other side of his mouth with his tongue. He opened the squad car driver's side and logged onto the laptop's network. "Ahh...crap. Couldn't they have made this into a lower resolution? It's taking forever to download."
"So our suspect's obviously armed and dangerous. It's most likely that he's killed, don't you think?"
"Maybe, but he coulda just tied up all the guards. We don't know if there's more of them either. I mean, just because my guys spotted five people in one room doesn't mean that those three men couldn't be the bad guys, or maybe there's an army of 'em. But since I'm not the type of a man to discriminate, maybe the women are the perpetrators. Yeah...they want equal rights and all that shit nowadays."
Skinner at that moment was going to make a further comment, but as he noticed Scully storming her way throughout the crowd and heading right for him, he thought better of it. "Okay, I've got it. Now lemme just print out the photo." Raines swung his head around to make eye contact with Skinner but instead saw both FBI supervisor and special agent. "Is this the woman you were talking about earlier?"
Before Scully had an opportunity to give him a tongue lashing, Skinner civilly rebuked the lieutenant. "Yes, this is Special Agent Dana Scully. Scully, this is Lieutenant Carson Raines, of Washington P.D."
"Lieutenant," she acknowledged him and held out her hand in a blatant gesture, but he rudely ignored it. Instead, Raines removed the printout and handed it to her.
"Now who's who in that picture?" he inquired.
"The two women are part of the cleaning staff. Mulder's here, and that appears to be John," Skinner informed the officer as they gazed at the picture.
"Doggett's on the floor. He's probably been shot," Scully surmised.
"I don't know the third person. That's got to be our perpetrator."
"Too bad he's got his back to the camera. I'll call the boys and see if I can get them to take one of him turned around," Raines lamented and shifted around on the seat to pull out his cell phone. Skinner took that moment to step a few feet away with Scully.
"I called Agent Reyes. She should be here in about three hours," she told him and folded up the photograph to fit into the pocket of her suede jacket.
"Scully, she's not part of the X-Files, or even this office yet. Why'd you do that?"
"I need her help. We have no idea who this man is, and even if we get a decent picture of him, all the police are concerned about is getting their man. Of course they want to avoid fatalities or even injuries, but that's all. We need to know what his motivations are, and if we can possibly talk him out of harming anyone else..."
"You needed someone else to trust," Skinner agreed. "I understand."
"And I thought it would be best if we got the guys involved, to have a way to dig them out should they run into any trouble."
"Very good thinking, Scully. I'm surprised that you have even this much logic after a long day of work and at such a late hour," he raised his wrist up to his chest and glanced at his watch. "Surprised that the calvary's not here yet."
"You mean Deputy Director Kersh?"
"Among others. This could put the FBI into a very sensitive spot." Scully looked up from her feet and at the plethora of media that was shouting even louder than before for attention.
"Is anyone going to talk to them?" she motioned with her head toward the press.
"Hey, AD Skinner, Agent Scully. We just got another photograph of the suspect along with the victims," Raines called to them. "I ran it through our databases and got bumpkus. He's got to be from a foreign country or another state."
"Would you mind printing it out again, please?" Scully asked and cleared her throat. Raines tore off yet another piece of paper from his printer and gave it to Scully.
"In the meanwhile, I got our surveillance techs working on our audio problems. Unfortunately, right now, it looks like we'll only be able to listen to what's going on, and only from up there," Raines pointed to a skyscraper under a heavy amount of construction. Scaffoldings no less than thirty feet off of the ground surrounded the edifice and i-beams were the only supports on the roof. "Our audio tech used to tour with the circus as a rigger--seems to have no fear of heights whatsoever. Said he'd ziplined from three hundred feet in the air once from one building to another. What a nut." He twirled the cigar around his index and thumb back and forth as he puffed on it. "So if you're up to wanting to really know what's really going on, that's our only option right now." He motioned to the heavens. "Personally, I like the feeling of good, solid earth between my shoes."
"Why can't we have another receiver and transmitter set up down here?" Skinner wondered.
"Are you kidding? With this mess? Do you know how many wireless pieces of equipment are being operated out there right now? You got microphones, cell phones, speakers no doubt of people protesting for God knows what reason, remotes, cameras, need I say more? Besides, the audio tech says that there'd be too much of a signal degradation even if he could get us reception down here. His equipment's not advanced enough."
"I can take care of that," Skinner reached into his pocket.
"Wait a minute. Do you remember what our understanding was when you came up to me not half an hour ago here?" Raines stood and slammed the police car driver door shut. "Do I need to remind you?"
The Assistant Director just gave him an icy stare as he put the phone to the side of his head and trudged away for less background noise. "This is Assistant Director Skinner..."
"Is he deaf or just stupid?" the lieutenant questioned Scully.
"With all due respect, Lieutenant, to refuse the resources of the FBI is not a move of stupidity on the Assistant Director's behalf," she replied nonchalantly. "We're all on the same side, here."
"Well, if he can pull his strings and make it work down here, fine. Where's the rest of your parade? Where there're two federal agents, a crowd's sure to follow."
"The division I work for is one of the less popular ones. People are concerned for us, of course, but, from a distance, I'm sure."
"Sounds like a bullshit rain dance to me," Raines snickered through his mouth, and the smoke he exhaled came straight into her face. "Sorry. Skinner said that you know how those agents think, huh? So tell me, are they thinking their way outta this as quickly as possible?"
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, is there something better that you have to do right now?"
"It was just an honest question; you don't need to bite my head off."
"Casey Hale's on his way from Quantico," Skinner announced, and he stepped back into the discussion. "Says he can solve both the problems of our audio and video feeds. Apparently, he used to tour as an audio engineer, so he's used to dealing with sticky situations and thinking quickly on his feet. But the bad news is that his supervisor won't let him go until 11:30. So that means we've got thirty to forty-five minutes of doing nothing but hoping and waiting."
"Well, you do have an option. It's just thirty plus feet right now. Anybody feeling adventurous?" Raines lifted his palm up in the direction of the scaffolding.
"I'll-" before Scully was able to finish her sentence, Skinner interrupted her.
"You'll do no such thing, Agent Scully. I don't want you to put yourself under any kind of strain or risk...especially for that baby."
"I want to be able to hear him." The Assistant Director grimaced; he knew what it had meant to Scully now that Mulder was back. And what it would do to her if he were taken from her again. He absolutely was mortified of heights.
"I'll go up there," Skinner said softly and swallowed a lump of what only could be described as being the size of a baseball down his esophagus. "But you wait down here for Agents Hale and Reyes. Let me know when that happens."
"Sir?" Scully called to Skinner as he began to trudge off to the neighboring complex. He spun around and lifted his head. "Thank you."
"Don't do that until they're out of there...alive."