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Authors: James Patterson, Mark Sullivan
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lemon zest and twice-baked potatoes, a salad, and
a cold Berliner Weisse. After she’d finished, cleared the table, and washed the dishes, she went into the refrigerator in
search of a second beer. She needed it.
She popped the top. Her cell rang. It was Katharina Doruk.
“Burkhart called in and told me what happened,” Katharina said.
“We’re all right,” Mattie replied.
“So he said,” Katharina answered snippily. “I would have rather heard that from you, Mattie. You’re lucky the two of you weren’t
arrested. A high-speed chase? You’re not cops.”
Mattie sighed. “I know. It was the heat of the moment, and then I was too exhausted to call. I needed to take Socrates home
and tell Niklas what happened.”
“How’s he taking it?”
“He’s got Socrates.”
“And you?”
Mattie shook inside. She’d not allowed herself to reflect at all since arriving at the slaughterhouse. Now it threatened to
spill out of her in a torrent.
“You want me to come over?” Katharina asked.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Burkhart said the guy on the motorcycle got the hard drive from Chris’s laptop,” Katharina said.
“Looked that way.”
“Nothing else?”
“The place was wrecked,” Mattie replied. “It was a little hard to figure—”
She remembered the crumpled paper she’d retrieved from Chris’s wastebasket just before the burglar attacked her. “Hold on
a second.”
Mattie put the phone on speaker, dug out the paper, and unfolded it. She scanned the list in Chris’s distinctive scrawl. She
smiled, but with little joy.
“Looks like the burglar missed something,” she said.
CHAPTER 19
“WHAT?” KATHARINA ASKED.
“A to-do list that Chris wrote,” Mattie said, picking up her phone, the paper, and the beer and heading toward her bedroom.
“It’s dated last Tuesday and says he had an appointment with Hermann Krüger at eleven in the morning that day.”
“Not the wife?”
“No, it says H. Krüger, and it has an address on Potsdamer Platz, the Sony building, I think.”
“So, what, he meets with Hermann, tells him he knows he has multiple mistresses and consorts with prostitutes and…?”
“You’re assuming too much, Kat,” Mattie snapped. “Krüger’s name’s just here on a list. So is Cassiano’s. He was to meet with
him at three that afternoon. And he has a third name here, Pavel.”
“Maxim Pavel?” Katharina asked, suddenly excited.
“Doesn’t say,” Mattie replied. “Why?”
“Because Gabriel was able to trace a series of phone calls Chris made last Monday and Tuesday to a Maxim Pavel. He’s a Russian
ex-pat. Owns two or three nightclubs, including Cabaret.”
“The drag-queen show?” Mattie asked.
“Very successful business according to Gabriel. But there’s more. He evidently has ties to Russian organized crime.”
Mattie checked her watch. “It’s only eight o’clock; we could—”
“We already checked,” Katharina said. “Pavel’s away in Italy. Won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”
Mattie thought about that. “We’re going to need reinforcements.”
“Way ahead of you again,” Katharina said. “I’ve called in Brecht from Amsterdam, and Jack Morgan’s on his way from Los Angeles
in the Private jet.”
“I’ll be at work by seven,” Mattie promised and hung up.
She put the beer, the list, and her phone on her nightstand, and then went in to kiss Niklas good night.
“I’m praying for Chris,” Niklas said after she’d shut off the light.
“I am too, sweetheart,” Mattie said.
She closed the door, told her aunt good night, and went into her bedroom. After showering and putting on her nightgown, she
got in bed with the beer. She almost turned on the television, but then got out her laptop.
She signed in to her Private e-mail account, and found a note from the Countess von Mühlen’s grandmother, thanking her for
her prompt, efficient work. Mattie replied that she thought Sophia was just
a cold Berliner Weisse. After she’d finished, cleared the table, and washed the dishes, she went into the refrigerator in
search of a second beer. She needed it.
She popped the top. Her cell rang. It was Katharina Doruk.
“Burkhart called in and told me what happened,” Katharina said.
“We’re all right,” Mattie replied.
“So he said,” Katharina answered snippily. “I would have rather heard that from you, Mattie. You’re lucky the two of you weren’t
arrested. A high-speed chase? You’re not cops.”
Mattie sighed. “I know. It was the heat of the moment, and then I was too exhausted to call. I needed to take Socrates home
and tell Niklas what happened.”
“How’s he taking it?”
“He’s got Socrates.”
“And you?”
Mattie shook inside. She’d not allowed herself to reflect at all since arriving at the slaughterhouse. Now it threatened to
spill out of her in a torrent.
“You want me to come over?” Katharina asked.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Burkhart said the guy on the motorcycle got the hard drive from Chris’s laptop,” Katharina said.
“Looked that way.”
“Nothing else?”
“The place was wrecked,” Mattie replied. “It was a little hard to figure—”
She remembered the crumpled paper she’d retrieved from Chris’s wastebasket just before the burglar attacked her. “Hold on
a second.”
Mattie put the phone on speaker, dug out the paper, and unfolded it. She scanned the list in Chris’s distinctive scrawl. She
smiled, but with little joy.
“Looks like the burglar missed something,” she said.
CHAPTER 19
“WHAT?” KATHARINA ASKED.
“A to-do list that Chris wrote,” Mattie said, picking up her phone, the paper, and the beer and heading toward her bedroom.
“It’s dated last Tuesday and says he had an appointment with Hermann Krüger at eleven in the morning that day.”
“Not the wife?”
“No, it says H. Krüger, and it has an address on Potsdamer Platz, the Sony building, I think.”
“So, what, he meets with Hermann, tells him he knows he has multiple mistresses and consorts with prostitutes and…?”
“You’re assuming too much, Kat,” Mattie snapped. “Krüger’s name’s just here on a list. So is Cassiano’s. He was to meet with
him at three that afternoon. And he has a third name here, Pavel.”
“Maxim Pavel?” Katharina asked, suddenly excited.
“Doesn’t say,” Mattie replied. “Why?”
“Because Gabriel was able to trace a series of phone calls Chris made last Monday and Tuesday to a Maxim Pavel. He’s a Russian
ex-pat. Owns two or three nightclubs, including Cabaret.”
“The drag-queen show?” Mattie asked.
“Very successful business according to Gabriel. But there’s more. He evidently has ties to Russian organized crime.”
Mattie checked her watch. “It’s only eight o’clock; we could—”
“We already checked,” Katharina said. “Pavel’s away in Italy. Won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”
Mattie thought about that. “We’re going to need reinforcements.”
“Way ahead of you again,” Katharina said. “I’ve called in Brecht from Amsterdam, and Jack Morgan’s on his way from Los Angeles
in the Private jet.”
“I’ll be at work by seven,” Mattie promised and hung up.
She put the beer, the list, and her phone on her nightstand, and then went in to kiss Niklas good night.
“I’m praying for Chris,” Niklas said after she’d shut off the light.
“I am too, sweetheart,” Mattie said.
She closed the door, told her aunt good night, and went into her bedroom. After showering and putting on her nightgown, she
got in bed with the beer. She almost turned on the television, but then got out her laptop.
She signed in to her Private e-mail account, and found a note from the Countess von Mühlen’s grandmother, thanking her for
her prompt, efficient work. Mattie replied that she thought Sophia was just
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