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“Boy are Carlson and Avigliano going to be sorry that they missed this,” said DeWolfe, whose eyes were glued to the screen. “I think I just fell in love. Yup. Oh, wow! It just happened again. These women are incredible.”
“Easy, Trigger,” said Harvath. “As well-funded as you boys are, there’s no way tricky Ricky would let you expense something like this. And you could save up a week’s per diem and not be able to pay for what you’re looking at there. So do yourself a favor and step away from the monitor. That’s it, stepaway from the monitor.”
DeWolfe did as Harvath suggested and rejoined his colleagues at Nixie’s desk.
Hanging up the phone, the attractive blond said, “I’m sorry, Herr Toffle, but it appears Frau Putzkammer was called away a short time ago and has not yet returned.”
“Do you have a cell phone number we could reach her at?”
“I tried her handy already, but there was no answer. I hope it is nothing serious.”
Herman looked at Harvath. “How much time do we have?”
“Less than forty-five minutes,” replied Harvath checking his Kobold.
“Actually, Nixie,” replied Herman. “This is very serious and we don’t have much time.”
“Herr Toffle, if there is a way I can be of assistance to you, please say so.”
Herman looked again at Harvath, torn as to how much he should share with Nixie. When Harvath raised his watch ever so slightly and tapped it, Herman decided they only had time for the direct approach. “Years ago, Gerda, Frau Putzkammer, worked closely with a group of American military men, and now one of them has been very badly injured here in Berlin. We believe he was a friend of Frau Putzkammer’s and that if she knew about his situation, she would want to help him.”
“Of course,” said Nixie. “She has often spoken of the American military men who were some of her best customers.”
“I am sure and that is very kind of her, but these men were very serious, elite soldiers. We’re not talking about ordinary American GIs. This group, Frau Putzkammer would definitely remember.”
Nixie’s façade seemed to soften. “When would these men have been in Berlin?”
“Before the wall came down. They were a small group charged with-”
“Für die Sicherheit?” asked Nixie, cutting off Herman’s sentence.
“Yes,” answered Harvath. “But how could you know that?”
“Let me get someone to take over for me, and we can talk,” said Nixie as she pressed one of the many buttons on her phone and spoke in rapid fire German. Moments later a stu
They rode to the fifth floor where the elevator opened up onto a gorgeous, antique filled penthouse apartment.
This was a part of the King George even Herman had apparently never seen before. “Frau Putzkammer’s abode?” he asked.
“Actually, it isour home,” replied Nixie.
“You meanyou and Gerdaare?”
“Mother and daughter,” said Nixie, cutting Herman off before he could say what he really thought their relationship was. “My full name is Viveka Nicollet Putzkammer.”
“I had no idea,” offered Herman, stu
“Not many people do. That’s the way mother has always wanted it. After private boarding schools in both France and Switzerland, I received my bachelor’s degree at the University of Southern California and my MBA at Kellogg in Chicago, then I returned home to Berlin to help run the family business.”
“And from the looks of everything,” replied Herman, “you’ve been doing a very good job.”
“But how did you know aboutFür die Sicherheit?” interjected Harvath.
Nixie motioned for her guests to take a seat in the sunken living room, as she crossed a series of beautiful oriental carpets and retrieved a large beer stein from atop one of the many bookshelves lining the far wall. Returning with the mug, she smiled as she handed it to Harvath and said, “One of my mother’s most prized possessions.”
He didn’t need to read the inscription on it to know what it was. Seeing the piece of barbed wire wrapped around the bottom was enough.
“Where’d she get this?” asked Harvath.
“It was a gift,” replied Nixie.
Harvath recalled the stein that Hellfried Leydicke had above his bar and half-assumed that Gerda Putzkammer had been another helpful outside supporter of Gary’s team. But when he flipped the stein upside down and saw the serial number, he was stu
“The man who gave that stein to her was named John Parker,” said Nixie. “My mother loved him very much. Enough to let him go back home to America when he was recalled after the wall fell.”
“Did he know that your mother was pregnant?” asked Herman, taking a guess.
“No. In fact, my mother didn’t even know until he had already gone.”
“She never tried to make contact?”
“You have to know my mother. She is a very proud woman. The last thing she would want is for people to think that she needed a man to take care of her.”
“How about you?” asked DeWolfe. “Don’t you want to have a relationship with your father?”
“I do have one. Although not the kind you’re thinking of,” replied Nixie. “My mother told me that my father had died shortly after I was born, and for many years I believed her. Then, one day, I found the room where she hid her diaries and other personal effects. I spent weeks sneaking into that room. I read everything that I could get my hands on and eventually discovered who my father was. That’s why I decided to do my undergrad work at USC.
“I na
Harvath hated to do it, but he took a deep breath and said, “Nixie, I’m sorry to tell you this. John Parker is dead.”
“No,” said Nixie, blanching. “That can’t be true.”
“I’m afraid it is,” replied Scot. “They killed almost all of the people on his Berlin team.”
“Who killed him? And what do you meanalmost all of the people on his Berlin team?”
“At this point, I’m not at liberty to tell you who killed your father, but I can tell you this. Two people on the team are still alive. One of those people was your father’s commanding officer. That man has been like a second father to me and the same people who shot and killed your father have shot and tortured him. Right now he is being operated on in a Berlin hospital and no one can say for sure if he is going to make it.”
Nixie was doing the best she could to control her emotions. “Who is the other man?” she asked.
“The other man,” said Harvath,” is another of your father’s teammates. The King George was a covert contact point for them a long time ago.”
“That comes as no surprise. This entire building is riddled with secret doors and passageways that helped certain people sneak in and out during the Cold War. My mother was very proud of her involvement in foiling the Russians and their East German counterparts.”
“And so she should be,” said Harvath. “But what we need now isyour help. We have a chance to stop the men who killed your father, before they can kill anyone else. What do you say?”
Nixie was silent. She strode across the sunken living room to a cocktail cart where she dumped a scoopful of crushed ice into a stainless steel cocktail shaker and filled the balance with vodka. Placing a lid atop, she shook the canister while she retrieved a Martini glass from one of the lower shelves and sprayed the rim with a vermouth atomizer.