Chapter Twenty
February 15
Neuen See Café, Tiergarten Park
Berlin, Germany
Carrie warmed her hands on her coffee cup as she brought it to her mouth. She was inside the café, but it was still cold, especially near the window, which afforded her a clear view of the pier and the pond. The water had frozen, since the temperature had dipped below zero, and a blanket of snow had covered most of the surface. A couple of small birds huddled on one of the tree branches, shaking off snowflakes. No one was on the pier or anywhere near the pond.
There had been no change of plans, and Reza was expected to meet with Justin at half past eleven. It was now eleven twenty, and Justin and Carrie had spent the last fifteen minutes scouting the area for suspects. There were very few people braving the chilly weather and sharp wind. Justin had noticed a couple of joggers along the trail. They were young men wearing loose-fitting jackets, with plenty of room to hide weapons underneath them. Near the pier, a mother and two children were attempting to build a snowman, although there was not sufficient snow, and it was not sticky enough. An older man—Carrie supposed he was the father—was sitting a few steps away, fiddling with his phone. Once in a while, he would talk to the woman and take pictures of the children. The woman, or the man, or both, could be covert operatives.
Inside the café, there were two men and a woman enjoying a late breakfast or an early lunch. Carrie did not speak German, so it was difficult for her to determine their relationship. One of the men seemed closer to the woman, considering the way he stole glances at her, but Carrie could not be certain. Any one of these people could also be covert agents.
Justin was pacing near the edge of the pond close to a large area that in the summer served as the beer garden. It was now covered by a few inches of snow. Justin held his phone close to his ear, feigning that he was having a serious conversation. But his eyes were taking in everything around him. Once in a while, he would turn around and look in the direction of the café.
Carrie sipped her coffee, then whispered into her throat mike, hidden by her brown scarf, “Justin, what’s the joggers’ status?”
“They’re coming back.”
“They finished the loop already?”
“No, turned around. What’s the sit in the café?”
“Quiet. The trio’s still here.”
“Any sign of Reza?”
“Negative.”
“And the happy family?”
“As determined as ever to build the snowman.”
Justin smiled. “I remember how stubborn I used to be as a child.”
“Used to be?”
“I’ve gotten better, haven’t I?”
“Eh, it depends. Now you’re not stubborn; you’re determined.”
“You know they mean the same thing, right?”
Carrie laughed. “No, they don’t.”
“Wait, we’ve got some movement.”
He glanced up toward the east. A slender man in a black coat and black pants was walking toward the pier. “That’s Reza,” Justin whispered into his throat mike.
“Copy that. Coming out.”
Justin moved the phone to his left hand. His right hand instinctively hovered close to his side. His Sig Sauer P229 pistol was in his waistband holster, and he could pull it out with a swift gesture.
Reza walked slowly past the man still fiddling with his phone, then nodded at the woman, who gave him a smile. He still had not made eye contact with Justin, but was hurrying toward the pier.
Justin walked toward Reza and cast a sweeping gaze around. One of the joggers was stretching about a hundred yards away. The other one had disappeared. Justin tried to find him along the trail, then among the trees. Where did he go?
Reza was now about fifty yards away. His eyes met Justin’s, and Reza gave a small, but firm headshake. He also seemed to mumble something indistinct.
Justin’s trained mind interpreted the message. “Abort, abort mission,” he said into his mike and turned around.
Reza ran toward the pier, then shouted, “Watch out, Justin.”
Justin ducked and rolled onto the snow.
Reza’s call saved Justin’s life.
A barrage of bullets whizzed over his head.
If he had been still standing, the rounds would have cut through him.
Justin pulled out his pistol and crawled toward the nearest bench.
Gunfire erupted behind him.
“Covering you,” Carrie’s voice came into Justin’s earpiece.
He glanced toward the jogger, who was no longer on the trail. Then Justin’s eyes went to the family. The woman and the two children were running toward the beer gardens, toward safety. The man was not with them.
A couple of bullets bored holes in the snow, next to his body.
Muzzle flashes appeared near the edge of the pier, right where the man was sitting until a moment ago. He was now stretched out on the snow, firing from behind the bench.
Justin returned fire. He double-tapped his pistol, planting at least one bullet in the man’s chest.
Then Justin looked around for Reza. He had fallen to the ground and was inching toward one of the nearest trees.
A volley came from beyond the forest, across the pond.
Justin cursed the missing jogger and squeezed off a few rounds. Uncertain he had hit the target, he tapped the trigger a couple more times. “Reza, this way, this way.”
Footsteps came from behind him, then Carrie said, “The second jogger. He’s firing from—”
Bullets cut off her words and thumped into the bench, inches away from their faces.
Justin returned fire.
Carrie also fired a long burst.
“I’m going to get him. Cover me,” Justin said.
“Done.”
She slammed a fresh magazine into her pistol and squeezed off a long barrage, alternating between the two positions from which they were taking fire. One of the joggers was crouched behind a tree to the left of the trail; the other was still across the pond.
Justin reached Reza and asked, “Can you walk?”
“Yes, yes.” He tried to put some weight on his left leg, but then collapsed onto the snow. “I . . . I can’t.”
“I’ve got you.”
Justin wrapped his arm around Reza’s waist and pulled him to his feet. Then Justin began to drag Reza toward the café.
Bullets kicked up snow around their feet.
Justin turned around to return fire. He could not aim very well—since Reza was still hanging onto his shoulder—but suppressive fire was better than nothing. Justin emptied his magazine, then pushed Reza onward.
More bullets danced a few feet around them. But Justin and Reza were now halfway there.
Carrie dashed toward them. She fired to the left, then swung her pistol to the right, pouring forth a torrent of bullets. She stopped for a split second to reload, then resumed her fiery wrath.
Reza almost stumbled, but Justin held him up. He dragged him another few steps, then they both dropped behind the bench.
Carrie kept firing at both enemies’ positions.
Bullets stripped slivers off the bench.
Justin reloaded and squeezed off a quick burst. Then he and Reza continued toward the café under Carrie’s ceaseless cover fire. When they reached the first trees, Justin stopped and dropped to one knee. “Carrie, retreat,” he said into his mike.
“Copy that,” came her reply.
He glanced at Reza, who was catching his breath and grasping at his bleeding leg. “Hold on there.”
Reza nodded and cursed the shooters.
Justin fired at the jogger by the trailside. He had moved further away, near a row of wooden seats by the pier. Justin’s bullets missed him, and he was able to run into the forest.
The jogger across the pond kept up his heavy fire.
Justin pivoted on his knee and double-tapped his pistol. His rounds struck the tree trunk serving as the shooter’s cover. A third round found its way into the shooter’s head, and he fell onto the snow.
Justin drew in a deep breath and waited for more rounds to whizz near his head. The eerie silence after a gunfight always put him on edge. His concentration was broken, and he had no idea when or where the next barrage would come from.
But there were no more gunshots.
Carrie dove next to Justin holding her pistol near her face. “How are you doing?”
“All right. You?”
“A couple of scratches.” She gestured at the left side of her face. “Nothing serious. Reza?”
“He’s bleeding from a deep leg wound. Let’s check on him.”
“I’m calling an ambulance.”
Justin nodded. “Yes, and the police will be here at any moment.”