The Baron's Thriller Novel : Part 9

The Elk's Shaft 930pm. Vienna, Austria.

Detective Mostac and Ally sat in silence at the conclusion of his harrowing tale. He because of the intense relief which accompanies revealing some dark secret, she because of the sheer repugnance of what Mostac had endured.

This solidly built little man with the ridiculous flowing mustaches had become a totally new person in her eyes. No longer the public servant in a decaying empire, rather, a person of iron character and tremendous courage who had seen things which mortal men should never encounter.

Ally finally broke the silence.

"Detective Mostac, I'm sorry you had to drag all that back to the surface, but I'm terribly appreciative of your trust."

He glared at her for a moment, or at least his fierce mustaches made it appear as if he were glaring, Agent Rivera could not tell. After a pause of several minutes, he lifted the colossal stein of black beer and quaffed the remaining contents in several halting gulps.

He carefully placed the mug back on the table before him and met Ally's gaze once more.

"Aye, well someone needed to hear it."

"I've got to ask Detective, why didn't you bring this up with your superiors? I mean, you knew Mr. Corkwald's manner of death almost the instant you saw his body."

"Perhaps, but my superiors, nay the whole Austrian police force, they know nothing of the real world."

"What do you mean by that Herr Mostac? Don't you trust your comrades?"

"Oh I trust them with my life. The problem isn't my fellow officers."

"Well what is the problem then?"

"Corkwald."

"The dead man?"

"Aye, the very fact that he is dead...."

Mostac lowered his gaze and stared heavily at the empty glass and the shimmering bubbles which remained.

"It's just that, Corkwald was no ordinary man."

"I'm aware of his past Detective."

"Are you?"

"Phinneus Corkwald. Agent 1st class. Deep Ops. One of the best." Ally rattled off the man's dossier.

"Hmph....You know some things Ms.Rivera."

"What...are you saying there's more? More that his own agency, the CIA doesn't know about? I find that hard to believe."

"Ms. Rivera, understand that I'm being serious when I say this, deadly serious. That man you know as Corkwald is no normal agent. He's been shot, stabbed, poisoned, burned and beaten and never failed to live. The man is unkillable"

"Well detective he seems to be eminently killable now doesn't he?"

"You don't understand Ms.Rivera. But, how could you? You've never known a man like him first hand. Yet, through some sort of curse I've been acquainted with three such people in my life."

"What people? Maybe you'd better take a break Herr Mostac, you're not making sense any longer."

"You're right. I guess it's about time I told you the rest of the story. But..."

"But, but what?" Ally said, the excitement building in her nearly spring loaded birth canal.

"I have to take a shit first."

"Oh for fuck's sak....." But Mostac had already half jogged to the heavy wooden doors leading to the bathroom. That Austrian beer really seemed to have run through the detective. Perhaps he had eaten some absolute garbage earlier. Ally didn't want to speculate.

Her cellphone vibrated with what seemed like unusual ferocity. She jammed her smooth, perfectly proportioned hand into the purse, seeking the offending device like a stoat in a rat's nest.

Finally Ally seized the phone and placed the receiver to her somewhat honey scented head.

"Rivera."

"Agent, this is Director Adams. We've received a new lead."

"Go ahead sir."

"Three men in Zurich have been killed in the same manner as Agent Corkwald. One was a prominent business man whose name I'm forbidden to revea. The other two were Swiss Poliz

"Any connections?"

"Quite a large connection actually. The murdered officers were monitoring the interrogation of one Roy Gimbel when he escaped from custody. He's intimately connected to the other victim."

"This sounds like our guy Director. How might he know Agent Corkwald?"

"That's unclear at this point. Regardless, you are to forward all details pertaining to Corkwald."and report immediately to the offices of the Zurich Poliz."

"Of course sir."

"Bring this bastard in Agent."

The line went dead.

Ally slowly placed the phone back in her purse. This certainly was a fortunate development. No man, no matter how well connected could evade the European authorities for long. Even if this Gimbel managed to escape Switzerland, he would soon be apprehended.

She would have to return immediately to the hotel and pack her things. Mostac could handle the remainder of the investigation here. It was unclear to what degree he was going to cooperate, but he could at least be trusted to send the case files to Washington.

Ally glanced towards the bathroom door to see if Mostac had finished yet. The door was just swinging shut, but there was no sign of the detective. Ally scanned the room to see if he had headed back to the bar for another drink and caught sight of a stocky man purposefully striding towards the exit. Ally found something about this man unsettling.

He reached out for the door handle and as his sleeve pulled back she saw that he was wearing latex gloves. With a spurt of adrenaline she sprang from the booth.

"Hey you! Hold it right there!"

He looked back over his shoulder and continued out into the street.

Ally sprinted to the door, knocking into tables and pushing patrons aside in her haste to follow him. She reached the threshold and was about to bound into the street when prickling sensation rose in the peach fuzz on her softly rounded buttocks.

Something was telling her not to open that door. Not to step into the street. That this was a trap.

But Ally also knew that she had to follow this man and find out what he was doing in the bathroom; although she already dreaded the answer.

She pulled her service pistol from its holster nestled against her hip and brought it to the close quarters ready position, flicking the safety off in the process.

With cat-like grace she wrenched the door open and dove into the street, rolling to a firing position with uncanny grace.

Ally barely had time to blink before the man was upon her. He lowered his basketball sized shoulder into her solar plexus and with the strength of a bull launched her to the cobbles.

She gasped in agony as the wind was knocked from her. Through her pain-narrowed eyes she could see the man advancing with alarming speed. He gripped a large curved blade in the manner of a butcher, solidly yet with surprising grace.

Ally struggled to a seated position and raised her weapon. She depressed the trigger as the brute closed the remaining gap between them. The shot rang out in the cold night air ripping into the lower abdomen of her assailant with a satisfying "thock!".

Without flinching he swatted the gun from her hand and slammed her to the cold pavement. The knife held mere inches from her face.

Ally tried to scream but his weight was suffocating.

"You're going to have to do better than that agent." The man's breath smelled heavily of alcohol.

Ally thrashed vainly beneath him her eyes fixated on that cruel knife. She was going to die. There was no way out of this. The man was simply too strong.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked it towards him. With a flick of the knife he severed a large portion of her flowing locks.

"Little momento to remember you by when you're gone." He hissed.

Ally closed her eyes in anticipation of the plunge of that curved steel. Suddenly the pressure was relieved. In its place a spreading warmth. Was this death?

Ally slowly opened her eyes and saw that the man was gone. The whine of sirens grew closer and closer. A small sedan peeled around the corner, its blue lights piercing the cold night.

Agent Rivera gained a knee and stood despite the searing pain. She peered down the narrow little street she supposed her attacker had run down. She retrieved her weapon and started towards it.

Ally could hear the Police yelling to her. Telling her to drop the gun, but she kept walking towards the crusty snow piled at the corner of that cross street. Something had caught her attention.

As she approached, she felt a cold, dead kind of terror. Just ahead, Illuminated by the yellowish light of the gas lamps a deep purple mark was seared upon the ice, steaming in the cold night.