LITMIR.BIZ

      “What is the matter?” Günter demanded at the other end of the phone connection.

      Joachim stared down into the dead man’s face and struggled to remain rational and calm. Panic gnawed at him with small, rat’s teeth. “I found a body.”

      “Is it the man you were sent for?”

      Kneeling, Joachim shone the pen-flash down and went through the dead man’s pockets with his free hand. “No,” he answered. “Someone else.”

      The dead man was easily ten years older than Tuenis Meijer but was just as shaggy and unkempt.

      Joachim didn’t like surprises. They tended to upset his ability to handle a situation. Everything in him screamed to get off the houseboat.

      Playing the pen-flash around, he examined the floor. Neither the weapon that had killed the man nor a spent casing was in sight. Further examination of the closet where the man had been concealed revealed that he’d met his end there. Blood and brain matter clung to the closet walls and pooled on the floor.

      “I’ve got to call our contact,” Joachim said.

      “Yes. Let me know how that goes.”

      “I will.”

      “And be careful, Joachim,” Günter said. “You are very important to me. I would not see you injured.”

      A pang ripped through Joachim at the coming betrayal. Despite his murderous approach to his business and the long line of bodies that had led up to his current standing, Günter seemed to truly care about Joachim.

      For months, Joachim had agonized over his decision to align himself against Günter. The crime czar had family and he was good to them, even though his daughters and sons didn’t appreciate the things he had done for them. Günter’s wife, ex-wives and mistresses only used him for what they could get. Günter hadn’t had good experiences related to family or friends. He didn’t trust many people.

      But he trusted Joachim.

      At fifteen, Joachim had been caught looting the home of a man who fenced stolen goods. That night, Günter had been with the man. The fence had wanted to shoot Joachim and call the Stasi. The East German police agency, with all the proper payments in place, would have condoned the decision because Joachim had been a thief and Leipzig had been filled with young thieves.

      Only, Günter had liked the way Joachim had stood his ground and asked that his mother and sister be spared the details of his death. They didn’t know he was a thief. They’d believed he worked at odd jobs.

      Günter had kept the fence from killing Joachim that night. The next night, he gave Joachim his first numbers-running assignment.

      “I will be careful,” Joachim promised. He hung up the phone and reached for the third cell that he carried. His nerves jangled and the urge to run almost overcame him. He pressed numbers with his thumb and held the phone to his ear.

      “Trouble?” a quiet, calm voice answered at the other end. Pitor Schultz was close to forty, a quiet man with dangerous eyes. Most people wouldn’t assume he was a threat until it was too late. For almost twenty years, he’d been an agent for the Bundesnachrichtendienst. The BND was Germany’s Foreign Intelligence Agency but they also operated inside the country when they had to.

      “I’m going to send you a picture,” Joachim said. “If possible, I need the man in it identified.”

      “All right. Send it.” Schultz hung up.

      The BND agent’s ability to cut to the chase and ask only those questions that were pertinent was one of the things that made Joachim feel more secure about dealing with him. That and the fact that Schultz had been clever enough to catch him and compromise his freedom.

      Joachim held the pen-flash on the man’s face and used the cell phone’s camera function to capture his image. A few buttons later, the image was on its way to Schultz.

      Crossing to one of the houseboat’s windows, Joachim slid the heavy blinds out slightly and slowly, to peer outside. Passersby continued on their way without a glance in his direction. If a team was watching, Joachim couldn’t spot them.

      He called Schultz’s number again.

      “Yes?” the BND agent answered.

      “You have the picture?”

      “I do. I don’t know him. Is he connected to your present endeavor in any way?”

      “Not that I’m aware of.” Restlessness filled Joachim. He wanted desperately to be out of the houseboat. It was a floating trap.

      “Be careful,” Schultz advised.

      Joachim ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket.

      The dead man rolled slightly as the boat shifted. Since rigor hadn’t set in, Joachim knew the man hadn’t been dead long.

      He took out the phone that connected him with the woman and punched the Send button. Schultz had tried tracking the number at one point, but it was carefully managed at the other end. A series of ever-changing cutouts made it seem as though the end connection was in several places in the United States, South America, the Caribbean, Russia and Asia.

      “Do you have the target?” the woman asked.

      “No. There’s been a problem.”

      “There are not supposed to be any problems.” Her voice took on icy suspicion.

      “This problem was here before I arrived,” Joachim replied. Anger stirred within him. “I found a dead man on the boat.”

      A brief pause stretched between them. “Who?” she asked.

      “I don’t know.”

      “What about your target?”

      “Not here. The target could have been taken when this…other problem came up.”

      “One thing at a time. Is the computer still there?”

      Joachim glanced at the computer. “Yes.”

      “Is it operational?”

      “Give me a moment.” Crossing the room, Joachim pulled the computer tower out, slid the cover off and checked for antipersonnel mines. Finding nothing, he left the cover off and switched the machine on. Despite his search, he still grew tense as the computer powered up.

      “Well?” the woman asked.

      “It’s operational.”

      “Good. Now here’s what you’re to do…”

      Following the woman’s direction, Joachim settled in at the computer, opened up the high-speed Internet connection available through the houseboat’s satellite dish array and allowed her access to the computer from a remote site. She—or whoever worked for her at the other

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