An Assassin Is Born Read online

  “Johannes! Is he ok?”

  There was only the sound of people rushing around in the background.

  “Johannes?” he yelled again.

  “Frederich,” said Johannes with a weepy voice. Frederich’s stomach knotted up. “He’s gone. I’m sorry, my boy.”

  He left his body. The phone fell out of his hand. His eyes widened, and his lips began trembling. He was quick to realise how ill-prepared he was for this moment. He went numb, and the rest of that day and the next became a strange dream. He was now standing dumbfounded at the funeral, unable to cry. Random members of his village approached him, dressed in black, and offered their condolences with a soft touch on the shoulder. ‘He was a great man,’ they said. ‘What a heartbreaking loss.’

  It was now late at night, and he was sitting on the sofa in his childhood home staring at the moonlight coming through the window. He felt empty, desolate like nuclear aftermath, unable to grasp the emerging darkness. Without warning, the ground beneath him gave way and he found himself thrust headfirst into the infinite reaches of terror. The howling panic shook him like nothing before, and spurred an overwhelming urge to flee, to escape the place which had come to represent Kraas. That meant leaving Tartu and also Tallinn. The next day he met with Kraas’ lawyer to discuss his inheritance, which turned out to be the house and 400,000 euros of savings. He looked on, stunned. Where did the money come from? The lawyer had no idea. His instructions were only to ensure a swift handover. Frederich reluctantly signed the papers. More condolences came. He returned to Tallinn, packed his bags and fled Estonia without alerting anybody. His only impulse was to escape and then stay in motion.

  Green, transient landscapes passed by in the train window, including the farms, towns, forests and winding rivers of the countryside. The void was there, growing stronger as he travelled from place to place across eastern Europe, from Riga to Warsaw, Bratislava to Vienna. He had lived and slept beneath the shadow of Kraas’ death, from hostel to city landmark, each day blending into the next until he reached Berlin, where something told him it was time to stop.

  As he sat upright on his bed in the dark, it had all caught up with him. The unravelling process began with a thickness in his throat. Shit. The tears rose to the surface and he lifted the blanket quickly over his face. He clenched his jaw and stuck his head in but with no effect. After three months of tightly holding it in, grief came gushing out of him. He moaned and wailed while the image of Kraas’ face grew vivid. Those sharp grey eyes would never watch over him again. He would never again see that bald head with the rough white stubble. Kraas would never pass by and rub the top of his hair again while he was reading, and he would never have the chance to complain about it while secretly liking when Kraas did that. I miss you. The words kept repeating in his mind, over and over, like a grief mantra, slowly cleansing him of his burden. The tears soaked his blanket until there were none left. Then, without meaning to, he fell asleep.

  3

  Michael Inselheim rolled up his shirt sleeves and wiped his forehead free of sweat. His associate handed him a cold bottle of water from the Jeep, which he used to cool the back of his neck. He rolled the bottle over his cheek and savoured a short reprieve from the desert heat. How did people live in such conditions, he wondered? He was hard-pressed to think of anything less interesting than the bland rocks, raw dirt and ugly shrubs which covered the Kazakh desert landscape.

  “Ten minutes until launch,” said Shirvan, having just spoken to the field team on the phone.

  Inselheim nodded.

  “Are they ready for post-launch?” he asked.

  “Of course. The Neutralaser goes underground straight after discharge.”

  Inselheim looked out at the horizon where the dummy rocket would be launched, and his eye twitched again. After a short pause, it twitched again. He loathed waiting. That was why he refused to line up for anything, he thought, as he rubbed his thumb against the pale strip on his bare ring finger. It had been three months since he took his wedding band off, but having the finger naked still felt strange. He wondered how Mira would react once she found out that the project which ended their marriage was finally complete. She probably could not care less. She was happily wrapped up in her new life in London with Mr. Best-Selling Author, who judging by the photos was giving her all the attention she craved. Unlike Inselheim.

  “Eight minutes,” said Shirvan, staring at his watch.

  Inselheim made a fist to stop himself rubbing his finger and began pacing back and forth.

  “Stop fretting. It’s going to be fine, Mr. Inselheim,” said Shirvan from a distance.

  Inselheim sniggered to himself. If Shirvan knew how bad their situation really was, he would be pacing right next to him. In reality, the very survival of the company was tied to the success of the Neutralaser project. They had nothing to fall back on. The test had to succeed — no exceptions.

  Inselheim looked up at the crisp blue sky, beyond which over 1,000 operational satellites belonging to dozens of countries were in orbit. This would be the Inselheim Group’s fifth rocket launch for the month. So far the cover story had held up, but they were pushing their luck. It had been over twenty-four months since Inselheim publicly commissioned the short-range ballistic missile project as a way to disguise the Neutralaser. No eyebrows had been raised yet, but it was a matter of time before the phone calls started pouring in from both East and West. Inselheim was proud of his cover project idea. It was a stroke of diplomatic genius. He had gifted his team something to test with as well as an excuse to fire rockets without raising suspicion. Far from adding yet another missile to the arms race, however, Inselheim was going to shock the world by revealing the device that would put an end to the threat of nuclear destruction. Most importantly, he was going to immortalise the Inselheim name. When all was done, the history books would extensively cover the life of Michael Inselheim; son of Thomas Inselheim and saviour of the world. He only wished his father would have been around for the moment.

  His phone began vibrating in his pocket, disrupting his daydream. It was Brunswick.

  “Hello, Kimberley,” he said as he put the phone to his ear.

  “Hello, Michael,” said Brunswick. “How are you feeling?”

  “Cool as a cucumber.”

  “Five minutes!” came Shirvan’s voice from behind.

  “Liar,” said Brunswick.

  “You?” said Inselheim.

  “I’m nervous.”

  “Liar,” said Inselheim with a slight smirk, which was the closest thing to a smile he had experienced in months.

  “Well, nervous, but still confident,” said Brunswick. “The team is in good spirits. That helps.”

  “Elias Khartoum called,” said Inselheim flatly.

  Brunswick sighed, then went quiet.

  “What did he want?” she asked.

  “He wants to do a cash pick-up this Monday. A fee of 250,000 euros as penalty for falling behind.”

  “They’re tightening the screws on us. What are we going to do, Michael?”

  “I’ve got the money. I’ll fly back and meet him. Let’s just get this right.”

  “We will. I’ve got to go. The team’s ready for the launch.”

  “Three minutes!”

  “Ok.”

  As Inselheim hung up, the gravity of the situation hit him. The lightheadedness came back and an ominous fear descended over him, causing his heartbeat to speed up. It had been a gruelling ride, which began when he slowly lost his grip on everyday company operations, becoming more and more engrossed with the Neutralaser project. As the Americans and Russians innovated beyond expectations, the Inselheim Group was uncharacteristically slow to respond. The worst blow was having to recall their newly released transport helicopter. Costly on-site repairs had resolved nothing. They had to redesign the fuel system from scratch, his engineers told him. After months of disruptions for his clients and the fatal crash in Ukraine, the lawsuits began. He had been warned early about t
he potential problems, but he had fooled himself into believing that his team would find a way to solve them. As the mistakes and costs piled up around him, he continued to roll the dice and grew more obsessed with finishing. Now he had no more rolls left.

  Making matters worse was that bloodsucker, Kalakia. There was nothing more Inselheim could have done to keep him in the dark. The Neutralaser team did all of their work in the remote underground facility. Documentation and communication remained in-house and the facility had no internet connection. Inselheim had even refused to allow public road access. Paranoia was a must when it came to Kalakia. His people were everywhere, and Inselheim was sure he had been tailed earlier in the week on his way to the office. The Inselheim Group was by far the most profitable company in Germany and had been on track to overtake the mighty American weapons manufacturers in turnover. The more the company grew, the more demanding Kalakia had become. Half a million per week in extortion money became three million. Now Inselheim was coughing up over a million a day. The one time he tried to negotiate a reduction, he got a cracked rib courtesy of Kalakia’s enforcer, Elias Khartoum. Inselheim had no choice. He would have to fly out early in the morning to make it back to meet him.

  “Ready for launch, Mr. Inselheim.”

  Shirvan, Inselheim and the rest of the team put on their protective goggles and stared out into the flat, brown desert in anticipation. Inselheim tensed his jaw and held his breath.

  “Ok,” began Shirvan. “Launching in.. 10.. 9.. 8.. 7.. 6.. 5..”

  “Come on,” whispered Inselheim, curling his hands into fists.

  “4.. 3.. 2..”

  The nuclear-capable ballistic missile launched in the distance with a bright red-white trail of burning fuel behind it. It climbed steadily through the sky, shrinking gradually, continuing to rise until a bright blue beam shot out from the ground at an angle and caused a blinding flash of light to explode over the horizon. The rocket and its burning trail disappeared. Inselheim’s jaw slowly fell open. Dumbfounded, he turned to Shirvan, who was on the phone with the field team. When Shirvan hung up, he removed his goggles and approached Inselheim with a grin on his face.

  “It’s a success, Mr. Inselheim. The rocket has been disintegrated.”

  Inselheim’s throat felt thick and lumpy.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered.

  “One hundred percent. I just got word from Brunswick. The device is already in the underground tunnel and is being driven back to the facility. She says she’ll be ready with the champagne,” said Shirvan. “Congratulations,” he added, tapping Inselheim lightly on the shoulder.

  Inselheim blinked a few times. His hands began shaking, and he found himself chuckling involuntarily. His body floated into the air and random areas began tingling.

  “Woo!” he screamed in a cathartic fit of excitement.

  He grew dizzy and bent down to support himself against his thighs as his eyes filled with tears. He surrendered with relief and thought of his late father, and how he might react had he been around to witness the moment. After decades of planning, years of risk, failure and constant stress, Inselheim had fulfilled his promise. His father’s technological vision was a success.

  “We did it,” he whispered, picturing his father’s plump red face. “We did it!” he screamed out into the open desert.

  4

  Frederich awoke abruptly with daylight coming through the crack between his curtain. His state from the night before seeped through immediately. He cursed himself for falling asleep for so long then jumped out of bed and marched to the living room to check on Ida.

  She was still sleeping. He relaxed and leaned against the doorway. Her pale olive skin was glowing in the morning light, and her knotted light brown hair lay plastered over parts of her face. The rain had smeared eyeliner around her eyes and upper cheeks, and a red swelling had formed on her chin, presumably from a strike to the face.

  He turned back toward the kitchen, then remembered his pistol was on the bedside table. He moved it into the drawer beneath then went to make coffee.

  He had just prepared the Moka pot with water and roasted coffee when he heard a cough coming from the living room. He turned off the stove. Inside he found Ida slouched forward on the sofa with the blanket wrapped around her. He thought about what he should say to someone who formed their first impression of him as he killed a man. He cleared his throat.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She turned to him with a sullen face and studied him. He swallowed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

  “Hey,” she replied.

  “Are you ok?”

  She pouted and shook her head.

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Can I have some water?” she asked with a hint of a latino accent.

  “Sure.”

  He went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. Ida gave him a brief look then accepted the glass and took a large gulp. He sat on the other end of the sofa and looked on. She stared into space for a long time and appeared preoccupied. Then she turned to him.

  “I can’t stop thinking that if you had not come, I might not be alive now. So thank you.”

  Frederich nodded. She looked away for a second then began shaking her head.

  “Jesus, I can’t believe Elias is dead!” she declared with a frown.

  “You knew him?”

  “Yes, we’d been seeing each other for a few weeks.”

  “Do you know his last name?” he asked, eager to find out the man’s identity.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head.

  “What happened? What exactly did I walk in on?” he asked.

  She squinted and frowned while recollecting the events.

  “First, I took the train to his apartment. When I got there one of the neighbours was walking out of the building, so I didn’t press the doorbell. It was so wet, and I just wanted to get inside. So I went straight up. When I got to the front door, I saw it had been left open. I was going to yell out when I came inside, but he was talking to someone on the phone called ‘Inselheim’. I knew something was wrong because he sounded different — quiet and business-like. I’d never heard him speak like that before. So serious. He liked to joke around, at least with me. The last thing he said as I walked up behind him was…” She paused and leaned her head to the side. “It was something like ‘Listen Inselheim, I’m either leaving your place with a money bag, or a body bag. The choice is yours.’ Then he turned around and saw me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I froze. I didn’t know what to do. He hung up the phone and then his eyes went cold. He didn’t even try to play it off. He just stared at me. That was when I knew I was in trouble.”

  Frederich remembered the look the bearded-man Elias had given him in the car. It was ominous.

  “Did you try to run?”

  “No.” Her eyes became glazed with tears. “He took out a gun. I was too scared to move. He took my purse and phone and put them in the kitchen. Then he tied my hands and feet together and left me in the bedroom with the door open. I begged him to let me go, but he didn’t reply. I was in there for hours, until it got dark. He didn’t say anything. I was so scared I was shivering the whole time. Then he made a phone call, and someone came.”

  “Another person came?”

  “Yes, he came inside the bedroom with Elias to check me out.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “His hair was black, with a ponytail, and he was pale. He was tall, and he had a black trench coat on.”

  “Ok, what else?”

  “He didn’t say anything. He only nodded, and then they went to the other room. They talked about something. I couldn’t hear. Through the door, I saw Elias give him my stuff and he left.”

  Shit.

  “He took your phone and purse?” asked Frederich.

  “Yes, my passport was in there too,” she replied. “Then Elias came and untied me. He said we were going for a drive, and th
at if I did anything stupid when we were outside or tried to escape, his people knew who I was and they would murder my family, my best friends, everybody I loved.”

  She paused. Her lips were quivering. Frederich continued to watch on in silence. When she resumed, her voice became filled with rage.

  “I mean, it was a fucking crazy thing to say! And the way he said it, and the way he was looking at me, and the way the other guy looked at me. I believed it. I still do. He’s connected to something terrifying. I just know it.” Ida had her face scrunched in disgust. Then it went stiff again with fear.

  Frederich speculated about this Elias. If he were part of an organised outfit, then Ida would likely have been killed that same day. She was left with an impossible choice: try to flee and risk the lives of her loved ones or quietly go to her death. The swelling on her face gave a clue to her next move.

  “You tried to escape when you got in the car?”

  “Yes. I begged him again to let me go. But he just looked at me with his dead eyes and smiled. The Elias I knew was gone. Before we could leave, it started raining hard. You couldn’t see outside. So we waited. I think he was expecting the rain to stop. The street flooded almost straight away. I wish I didn’t, but I panicked and tried to escape. He was too quick. I didn’t even reach the door handle before he pinned me down. He punched me. When I screamed, he became angry and held me down by my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Then you came.”

  Ida began trembling. Telling her story had been a point of focus which had held her together. Now it seemed the terrifying reality had caught up with her. Frederich watched the aftershocks of her trauma boil up to the surface. So far he had been analysing the information she was giving him for anything useful. It was time to put that aside.

  He made his next move without hesitation, shifting closer to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. First a sob broke out, then she began weeping. He wrapped his arm around her and felt her despair, and with it, remembered her look of terror. He tensed his jaw and made a tight fist with his hand, furious again without knowing why. He had lost it, and not for the first time. He remembered when he snapped like that last, when that intruder broke into their house in the middle of the night and tried to kill Kraa… Don’t, a voice warned him as the ominous shadow converged. Don’t think about that. He blinked and shook his head, then took a deep breath to settle himself.