The Helsinki Pact by Alex Cugia Page B

gave you DM300 and I want my four
and half thousand Ost Marks. Stop pissing about.”
    “3,000. Take it or leave
it.”
    “Forty five hundred, nothing
less. I could turn you in just as easily. Don’t think I
won’t.”
    “It would really be very, very
stupid if you tried that. OK. Just this once I’ll do it at twelve
and a half. I’ve got the other seven fifty in the car over at
Melchiorplatz. But remember, ten to one is the deal for everything
now. I’m not interested at anything higher.”
    He set off and Thomas followed,
still arguing. He was furious but knew that he had little choice
but to accept the reduced rate, at least for now. He had to get
over to the Ephraim Palais again to bank this latest lot of money
and it was getting late. Oh, well, he thought, he knew where he
could get better rates so he was probably well rid of
Mark.
    Just as Mark opened the car door
two men jumped out of an old grey Trabant parked slightly down the
street on the opposite side and ran towards them shouting something
which Thomas couldn’t properly understand.
    “Come on! Get in!” Mark glanced
over, gesticulated at Thomas and jumped into the driver's seat
starting the engine instantly.
    The car took off and swung round
with a roar of the engine and a squeal of tyres, the force throwing
Thomas back in his seat and almost tumbling him out of the still
open door which swung madly before he caught and closed it. He
looked back over his shoulder. One of the men had kneeled and was
aiming a rifle towards them. Thomas ducked instinctively as he
heard the gunshots in quick succession and the car swerved
suddenly. He looked up to see Mark slumped over the wheel and as
the engine roared again and the car plunged forward it smashed into
a wall, jerking him hard against the windscreen, and he lost
consciousness.
     
     

Chapter 5
    Thursday September 14
and Friday September 15 1989
    STEPHAN struggled up the stairs
as fast as he could in the teeming subway crowd, fretting at those
in his way, muttering apologies on his frequent collisions, darting
into fortuitous spaces as they opened up. Bursting on to
Frankfurt’s Opernplatz he dodged past a phalanx of uniformed men,
pin stripe suited and swinging identical briefcases in unison, men
who walked briskly looking straight ahead to reassure themselves
they had important tasks in hand. He sprinted through the
Taunusanlage Park, closing on the twin towers of the Deutsche Bank.
It was already 8.30.
    At the bank headquarters he
pushed the revolving door hard, stumbled into the spacious entrance
hall with its internal fountains and hanging crystal decorations,
waved at the guard who nodded in recognition, and rushed for the
mirrored wall hiding the lifts to the boardroom floors. A panel
slid open as he arrived and he squeezed into the first cage just as
its doors were closing. He greeted the others as usual but his
glasses were fogged and he had no idea who was present. He felt hot
and sticky, out of control, and cursed the subway company and its
unreliability. There again, he thought wryly, perhaps he should
have resisted taking that extra fifteen minutes in bed with
Camille.
    He whirled into his office on the
30th floor, hurled his coat at a chair and tugged papers from his
briefcase, ordering these quickly and handing them to his secretary
to type. He rushed to his inner office and went over the contract
documents once more in preparation for the imminent meeting with
his boss, Alfred Herren, CEO of Deutsche Bank.
    At five to nine Stephan sank into
a soft, dark leather armchair by Herren’s desk. He clutched the
papers for the Board meeting which Lise had completed from his
handwritten notes moments earlier. He’d had no time to review them,
something he would ordinarily have done as Herren had an uncanny
eye for detail and would pounce on any error. Fortunately Lise was
one of the best secretaries in the company and he was confident she
would have typed everything up correctly and laid it