Blitzed(124)

I shook my head, surprised. Felix and I needed to fight more often, he was the best opponent I'd ever faced. "I barely felt it until I was on my back."

Felix grinned. "Thank you. Now, help me inside. I want to get this jaw iced and my ankle soaked in hot water before Jordan gets back. If she sees me hobbling or in pain, she's going to freak out and probably kick both of our asses."

After helping Francois into the bathtub, I got on the computer, logging into my secret e-mail. There was a message from my contact, the boss of the man who'd come by the house the day before. My men said you did a very good job of selling the deal, but they were surprised when they realized who you and your brother are. There is a new rider on the contract. Your brother is not going to be terminated but instead be brought into the custody of certain partners of mine. We will take possession of the book and your brother at that time.

If that’s what it takes, I wrote back in an e-mail. Arrange the hand-off to be soon after the obtaining of the book. We will not be alone, and I don’t want her suspecting. Send details in next message.

I shut down my computer, making sure to wipe the history of the e-mail. The hateful idea resonated with me. The king who becomes a slave. I kind of liked the sound of that.





Chapter 22





Felix





Stuttgart is a city of contradictions. One of the oldest cities in southwestern Germany, most people associate it with the history of the automobile. After all, Karl Benz invented the car in Stuttgart, and even today Mercedes-Benz and Porsche are headquartered there. But at the same time, Stuttgart isn't overly industrial like some of the other manufacturing centers of Germany. There are large artistic centers, universities, and museums that made it a fine place for people who were looking for culture to visit as well. Of all the cities in Germany that I'd been to, it was one of my favorites and a routine stop on my travels around Europe.

One of the biggest reasons I went to Stuttgart was that it sports a large immigrant population, which is what we were looking for. Taking advantage of the high-tech culture of the Stuttgart area, we were looking for our contact in a scene that Jordan probably felt more at home in than any other we'd been in so far in Europe, a hard rock club.

The waves of immigration had blended with the German penchant for techno and hard rock throughout the nineties, giving rise to a plethora of niche clubs that catered to the different tastes around the city. We were in an American hard rock club, which had an eclectic mix of all the different local nationalities represented. On stage, what could only be described as a Pantera knock-off band wailed away.

"Their guitarist sucks," Francois yelled over the hypersonic music. "I could do a better f*cking job!"

I had my doubts, but let Francois continue on. Jordan, to her credit, just sat back and enjoyed the music. I didn’t care for it, but that was due to the singer who felt the obsessive need to alternatively growl or scream his lyrics the entire time. I understand that heavy metal tends to get that way, but this guy was ridiculous. "You can definitely out-sing the man," I told Francois. "I think with a little bit of training, the three of us could replace the entire band, actually."

“They're better than some of the bands I played with," Jordan commented. “One thing is for sure, though, the beer is good. I've missed it myself."

I took a sip of my stein, which was a good proper German brew, and had to admit it was good. Vastly different from the wines of our home, it wasn’t a drink I partook in often but was willing to enjoy for this situation. Francois was keeping himself totally sober while Jordan was also taking in a single beer as well, sipping at her amber ale slowly.

I sat back with Jordan, who looked amazing in her leather pants and short-waisted jacket, purchased specifically for this trip to the club. Spending four hundred dollars for an outfit that she most likely would only wear once seemed foolish, but I enjoyed getting it for her. And the way she wore it, she oozed rock charisma. She'd turned heads from the moment we entered the club, which in a lot of ways was helpful. Anyone who remembered us would pay more attention to Jordan than to Francois and I. Deception is just as important as stealth when it comes to being a thief.

Our contact arrived about twenty minutes late, much like I'd expected despite my earlier griping. Looking totally out of place in a hard rock setting, his pink shirt and khakis made him look more like a tourist from Miami than a rock aficionado in a Stuttgart club, but we'd worked together before. "Hey, didn't think you'd be working again so quickly," the American said. He said his name was Alex, I didn't believe him, but his work was quality. "Interesting job, not too many buildings with the requirements you sent me."

"It's a good system for sure," I said. Alex was our computer cracker. He gave us software that allowed us to tunnel into a target's computer systems and reduce the effectiveness of those systems. It didn't eliminate all of the risks, but it at least took part of the equation out of the way. With the physical challenges of the Arab center, we needed even more, a total throttling of the computer-based systems that wouldn't look at all like a takeover. We needed to mask everything in the system and do it without the human guards noticing. "Within your capabilities, I’m sure?"

"Of course," he said, pulling a thumb drive out of his pants pocket and handing it over. "Just get within a hundred meters of the building, turn on your computer, and let this baby go to work. It should take about four to six hours before you're set."