“Exit here onto Polderweg Road!” Stahl said.
Maccabee exited and saw a sign for the small Dutch town of Belfeld.
Minutes later, he said, “Park alongside that row of trees.”
She saw the row of trees, but no houses, no buildings, no other vehicles, no signs of life. Just empty fields of tall grass leading up to a sprawling forest in the distance.
A perfect place to dump my corpse, she thought.
Trembling, she steered onto the road’s gravel shoulder and crunched to a stop beside the row of evergreens.
She had to escape now… run away in this field, even though her chances of getting away were dismal.
Stahl grabbed the keys, came around and opened her door.
“GET OUT!”
She stepped from the car and took a deep breath. The cold night air felt like shards of glass piercing her lungs. Exactly how the bullets would feel.
She heard the rhythmic thump of a distant helicopter. Turning, she saw its searchlights bleaching the ground white. The chopper raced along the German border a mile to the east.
Stahl glanced at the chopper, then pushed her into the field of tall grass, heading toward Germany. A few feet later, he stopped and stared at her. Slowly, he reached toward her neck.
She took a step back and got ready to kick him in the groin and run - when suddenly he yanked her necklace off.
Then his eyes seemed to focus on something below her neck… something she thought she’d rubbed off.
He was staring at the remnant smudges of H U L P.
Anger flashed in his eyes.
He hit her hard. She stumbled back and steadied herself against a tree. Her jaw felt like he’d driven a nail into it. Had he broken it? She opened her mouth and it worked, but with pain.
He grabbed her arm and yanked her down a narrow path that led into the field. A few feet later, he stopped and positioned her necklace atop a small mound of dirt.
Then he turned the necklace so the moonlight reflected off it.
What’s he doing? He wants them to see the necklace! Why?
Stahl pushed her farther into the soggy field toward the German border, stopping every few feet to check their footprints. He seemed pleased that their wet prints were easy to track.
They came to a narrow road, crossed it and continued into the next field, leaving more fresh prints. She looked ahead and saw the German forest was not far.
Stahl led her up to the forest, then inside several yards where he stopped and stared at her. His gaze slid from her neck… to her wrist.
“Give me your watch!”
She handed it to him. He placed it on a small clump of leaves next to her footprint. Then he positioned the watch so the moonlight glinted off the crystal face. The police couldn’t miss it.
He still wants the police to follow us! Why?
A hundred feet farther into the forest, Stahl bent down and examined where they’d just walked. When he saw no footprints on the leaves and pine needles, he seemed quite pleased.
What’s going on? First he wants them to follow us - now he doesn’t?
Is he setting them up for something? Leading them into a trap? An ambush? How can one man hope to ambush a squad of armed police?
What’s he really up to?
* * *
As the police car sped past Roermond, Donovan feared Stahl had already switched vehicles again and escaped deep into his home turf -Germany. There he would have numerous places to hide himself… and Maccabee’s body.
Donovan saw three Dutch police choppers sweeping along the border, their spotlights bleaching the forest white below. He worried that the forest was so dense the pilots probably couldn’t see anyone beneath, especially anyone wearing dark clothes and trying to hide, like Stahl and Maccabee.
The car phone blared to life – “We found the Volvo!”
“Where?” de Waha said.
“Near Belfeld. Off A-73, alongside Poldersweg Road. No signs of Stahl or Maccabee!”
“Any evidence they switched cars or were picked up?”
“No, sir.”
“Footprints?”
“Still looking.”
“We’re four kilometers away,” de Waha said, signaling the driver to hit the gas.
Minutes later, their Police Porsche screeched to a stop beside the Volvo and two Dutch police cars. Donovan jumped out and hurried over to the officers by the Volvo. When he saw some blood splatter on Maccabee’s driver side window, he had to steady himself against the fender.
Did Stahl shoot her? Or is this blood from the couple he shot to steal the Volvo?
“Over here,” shouted a young officer in the field.
The group ran over to him and looked down. Donovan saw the same heel and toe marks he’d seen in the mud beside the Albert Canal.
“Maccabee’s footprints!” Donovan said, relieved she was at least walking.
“Look at this!” an officer shouted deeper in the field as he pointed at something.
Donovan and de Waha ran up to him and looked down at a necklace with a silver butterfly.
“That’s Maccabee’s!” Donovan said.
“She put the necklace here so we’d follow,” a policeman said.
“Up here,” shouted a tall officer farther in the field.
“What?” de Waha shouted.
“More footprints.”
“He’s heading toward the German border,” de Waha said.
“He might have crossed it by now,” Donovan said, as two officers ran up and aimed 400-lumen Torch flashlights on the prints. The blinding white lights turned the ground to high noon. The prints were easy to follow.
Several hundred yards farther, the group came to the narrow paved road. Donovan saw no footprints and no clues on the pavement. They crossed the road and within a few feet found the footprints again and continued tracking them east toward the dark wall of trees on he border.
Minutes later, the footprints led them into the German forest.
An officer shouted, “Over here!”
Donovan and de Waha hurried over. Donovan bent down and saw a silver wristwatch with a grey leather band.
“Maccabee’s!”
“They’re continuing through this forest,” de Waha said. “Let’s hope she’s wearing more jewelry.”
“She is,” Donovan said, remembering her bracelets, ring and earrings.
He soon noticed they were walking on a thick carpet of pine needles and leaves. The footprints disappeared. And soon, he realized so had her jewelry clues. Stahl and Maccabee could be walking in any direction.
But something about the clues was bothering Donovan, something that didn’t feel right and he wasn’t sure what it was.
Soon, they came to a treeless clearing the size of a football field. Donovan’s shoes sank into the soft ground and he sensed they’d pick up the footprints here. The team and police spread out seven abreast and methodically combed through the clearing. Flashlights swept the ground as they walked in ten-yard sections. After several minutes and several sweeps, Donovan realized there were no fresh footprints and no more jewelry in the clearing.
“Stahl changed direction before this clearing,” Donovan said.”
De Waha nodded and looked at his map. “If they circled the clearing and went straight ahead, they’d reach the German town of Kalderkirchen. If they turned left, they’re going along the border. If they turned right, they’re walking through several kilometers of forest. The town of Kalderkirchen – straight ahead makes sense.”
“Or….” Donovan said, suddenly realizing what was bothering him about the jewelry clues.
“Or what?”
“Or… straight back!”
De Waha looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“I’ve had an uneasy feeling about Maccabee’s jewelry.”
“Why?”
Donovan turned and looked back from where they’d come. “Stahl would make her walk in front of him, or at least beside him, right?”
De Waha nodded.
“Yet, we find large sparkling pieces of her jewelry… perched up like Tiffany’s displays along the path. Stahl’s smart. He doesn’t miss things. He would have seen the jewelry if he was behind her or even beside her.”
“Maybe he was busy, looking at a map.”
“Maybe. But those clues looked positioned, carefully placed, not simply dropped. We spotted them easily from a distance.”
De Waha said nothing.
“Then suddenly in the forest, we see no more jewelry, no more clues. Why? Maccabee was also wearing some bracelets, a gold pin, a silver ring and earrings. She could have easily dropped another clue here in the forest. Again, why didn’t he?”
De Waha stared at him. “You’re saying Stahl positioned the jewelry?”
Donovan nodded.
“But why?”
“So we’d think he’s continuing into Germany… ”
De Waha closed his eyes for several moments. “While the bastard doubled back into Holland!”
Donovan nodded.
De Waha looked back toward Holland. “If you’re right, he could be back near Polderweg Road by now.”
“Or further.”
De Waha punched a button on his phone. “Look for Stahl back near Polderweg Road. Donovan and I are heading back there now. The rest of our team will continue through the forest to Kalderkirchen.”
“If you’re right,” de Waha said, “we might get lucky and pick up their footprints heading back as we exit the forest.”
And if I’m wrong, Donovan thought, I may have signed Maccabee’s death warrant.