The clouds that hung above the skyscrapers of Frankfurt’s financial district were thick and dark and cast the city below in bleakness. Though at least the temperature in Germany was a few degrees warmer than the frostiness of Copenhagen.
Ultimately, Ryker had come away from the Danish capital with little of solid use. He had a lengthy and memory-jogging account from Penny Diaz of the events in Doha years ago, but nothing that explained how and why Grichenko had escaped assassination back then, or why he was now dead. He wasn’t sure he believed every aspect of the account she’d given him, and he’d be straight back to Copenhagen if he got a sniff that she’d tried to dupe him in any way.
For now, it was on to the next. Joey Weller may have been perhaps the least relevant, but he was by far the closest. The relatively short hop from Copenhagen to Frankfurt had taken Ryker only a few hours, but on arrival, he had decided to rest up for a night in a basic hotel not far from the financial district. The downtime had given him plenty of opportunity for further research. He’d still been unable to get hold of full, official details of Grichenko’s demise. The British press was reporting few concrete facts in relation to the cause of death and no specifics of persons of interest, but plenty of speculation about clandestine operations and rogue spies and the like. Very probably some truths were buried in those sensationalist accounts, whether the journalists knew it or not, but so far there was frustratingly little for Ryker to use.
Interestingly, though, there remained nothing in the press about himself being wanted in connection with the murders. Which again led Ryker to question if Kaspovich had simply been playing Ryker, or was there more to his deceit?
Ryker finished his coffee and threw the paper cup into a trash can as he strode along. Businesspeople in smart suits and coats strolled by, most with either phones or take-out cups in their hands. Germany’s financial hub was a busy and supremely neat and clean area, even if it all felt just a little bit like most financial centers in most big cities across the continent and beyond.
He headed on through the revolving doors to 108 Neumarktplatz and over to the security booth where three suited guards were seated.
‘Guten Tag,’ Ryker said as he approached. ‘I’m here to see Mr Weller at Anderson Associates,’ he continued in German.
The guard he spoke to didn’t say a word. His face remained stern and grumpy as he typed on his keyboard and stared at his screen.
‘Your name?’
‘James Ryker.’
A few moments later and Ryker was handed a lanyard with a visitor badge in a little plastic wallet.
‘Through the gates,’ the guard said. ‘Reception is on the eighth floor.’
Ryker thanked him and moved over to the electronic glass security gates. He glanced back to the guard who nodded. There was a click and the gates slid open. Ryker headed on through and to the elevator bank where a crowd of workers was steadily building and awaiting one of the six elevators.
Far from the most strict security Ryker had seen, though he guessed in a building that housed some fifteen different companies there wasn’t much more they could do other than to provide basic control over who came into the building, and then rely on the companies themselves to keep their own spaces secure.
He eventually squeezed into an elevator with six others. Floor eight was the second stop and Ryker squeezed back out and followed the arrows to a plush and modern reception area. Gray and black and white everywhere. Minimalist artwork, sculptures. A glass coffee table was covered with various financial journals.
He walked up to the reception desk. Two female receptionists there. Much more smiley than the ones downstairs.
‘I’m here to see Joey Weller,’ Ryker said.
He explained who he was and the receptionist made a call and told Ryker to take a seat. He did. Behind and off to the side of the reception area was a security-locked door. A basic magnetic lock by the looks of it, simply needing a key card to open. There was another similar door off to his left. Two exits from the main office space and to the central elevator bank, the office likely wrapping around the central shaft like flesh on a bone.
After a few moments of waiting, the door behind the reception desk opened and a middle-aged lady in a navy skirt suit strode out and toward Ryker.
‘Mr Ryker?’
He got to his feet.
‘I’m Karin Scholtz, Mr Weller’s assistant,’ she said. She came to a stop next to him. ‘I’m so sorry but Mr Weller isn’t available right now. Perhaps I could help you?’
‘Isn’t available or isn’t here?’ Ryker said.
She looked a little put out by the question. ‘Not here or available, unfortunately,’ she said. ‘We could schedule a meeting for another time if you like. And if you let me know what it’s to do with?’
‘I think if you could give him a quick call and give him my name, he might just make himself available now.’
She frowned. ‘He’s very busy. Perhaps I, or someone else on the team, could help you instead?’
‘I really don’t think so.’
Behind the reception desk, the door opened again as a man and woman casually headed out.
‘Are you sure he isn’t in?’ Ryker asked. ‘I did see him come up earlier.’
She obviously didn’t like the insinuation behind that at all, judging by the look she gave him.
‘I already said—’
Ryker didn’t listen to the rest. Instead, he brushed past her and strode to the door as another young man stepped through, and caught it just before it locked shut.
‘Mr Ryker, you can’t do that!’
He didn’t heed the warning and carried on and found himself in an open-plan space. He paused a beat to look around. About fifty heads here. A few private offices were dotted around the outer edge of the floor, along with the entrance to a corridor in the far left corner.
‘Please…’
Scholtz was right next to him.
‘Where’s his office?’ Ryker said as he turned to her.
‘If you don’t come back this way I’m going to call security.’
No need. Ryker spotted the door. He could see the nameplate. Three offices along. Heads were turned his way as Ryker marched over there. He pushed open the door.
The office was empty. But the laptop on the desk hummed away. The sneak was here, all right.
Ryker moved out. Went toward the corridor. Scholtz was no longer following. Most likely she was at reception asking them to call security. Ryker headed along the corridor, glancing into each of the meeting rooms he passed. No sign of Weller. He reached a stairwell and pushed open the door and moved to the stairs. He glanced over the railing and down. He couldn’t see anyone on the bare concrete stairs, but he could hear someone. Hard soles on the hard stairs. Three or four floors down.
Ryker set off at pace. He took the steps two at a time, moving fast, but also keeping his feet light. He first saw Weller when he was just past floor three. Had him in his sights less than a floor later.
‘Weller!’ Ryker shouted.
Weller didn’t look around. Not until they were on the landing for the first floor, when Ryker was close enough to reach out and grab him by the scruff of his neck. He pushed him up against the wall.
‘Please! Please!’ Weller squealed as he cowered.
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ Ryker said before he let go and Weller slumped a little.
A realization seemed to spread across Weller’s face. What had he thought? That Ryker was there to assassinate him?
Ryker put his hands on his hips and took a step back. Weller was panting, out of breath. His cheeks were red, though Ryker thought that might have been more from embarrassment than exertion.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know… I didn’t know what to think.’
Ryker shook his head. ‘If I wanted to hurt you I probably wouldn’t just show up to your workplace.’
‘You would say that, wouldn’t you? Except I’m well aware of your handiwork, don’t forget.’
Ryker decided not to question that.
‘Shall we go back up?’ he said.
Just then the stairwell door banged open and two security guards burst into view. Ryker spun around.
‘You!’ the more grumpy of the two said. The same one who’d given Ryker his badge minutes before.
Ryker got ready for the inevitable. He hadn’t expected this morning to go like this, but so be it. He’d tackle the two guards, then drag Weller out of there and somewhere quiet.
Ryker clenched his fists. Took a half step forward…
Weller jumped in front of him.
‘It’s okay. It’s okay,’ he said, waving his arms at the guards. ‘Just a mistake. He’s with me. It’s fine.’
The guards paused. As did Ryker. They looked dubious. Perhaps they’d quite fancied a ruckus to brighten up their day.
‘He’s with me,’ Weller said again. ‘It was just a misunderstanding, okay? We’ll go back up to my office.’
The guards exchanged a look then one of them said something into his handheld radio that Ryker couldn’t quite hear.
Seconds later they turned away and grumbled to each other as they headed back to their positions.
Weller turned to Ryker. He still looked like he might piss his pants any second. Was he really that scared of Ryker? Why?
‘Why don’t we start again?’ Ryker said.
Weller nodded. ‘Yeah. Perhaps we should.’
‘It’s good to see you, Joey.’
He didn’t get a response to that.
‘You lead the way,’ Ryker said. ‘Office, or we could go—’
‘Come up to my office,’ Weller said. ‘The more people I know are around us, the better, as far as I’m concerned.’
Ryker smiled. ‘After you.’