Chapter Nineteen
The trip to Bonn had been more relaxing than anticipated.
Even though Nate was wound tight about getting the information on Saudi water tables from the U.N.
, he’d allowed himself to relax. He and Wally spent the remainder of the day in London, with Wally capitulating and going along with Nate as he toured Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, and the British Museum.
He’d have loved to get out to Salisbury Plain to see Stonehenge again but thought better of pushing his luck.
He was already putting his British friend through enough torment.
The pair stopped overnight in Brussels and compromised on their time.
The first few hours Nate dragged his less than enthusiastic friend to Le Grand-Place and several other art nouveau sites including Stoclet Palace and the Saint-Cyr House.
In the evening, Wally chose Aux Armes de Bruxelles on the rue des Bouchers for dinner, where they ate moules et frites and sipped on too much French wine.
The next morning they woke up and completed their journey, checking into their hotel early.
The Dorint Venusberg Bonn was a beautiful four-star hotel situated on a hilltop and surrounded by an ancient forest. Nate could not have picked a more relaxing location if he had tried, but it was Wally who had reserved their lodgings.
It was also Wally who paid for it, for which Nate was grateful.
The hotel was situated west of the city center, only a two-mile stroll to the U.N. campus.
The walk was pleasant, with beautiful trees and stunning architecture present along their way as they walked down winding paths to the city itself and then east to the river.
They arrived with time to spare, got through security without issue, and checked in at the main building, a tall and reflective structure shooting up into the sky in the middle of the campus. And then they waited.
Even though they’d arrived early, it seemed the man who had set the meeting time was running behind schedule.
The receptionist at the front desk said they were welcome to wait in the lobby, and so they did.
They sat in the waiting area for two hours before leaving and getting lunch down the street at Forissimo, an Italian restaurant.
The choice had been Wally’s, in an effort to change up their palate, and it was delicious.
When they returned, Nate once again spoke with the receptionist.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a shake of her head, “he still has not arrived.”
“Can you try him again?” Nate asked, feeling the frustration begin to creep up within him. She obliged, with no result.
“Is it possible that his phone isn’t working? Can we send someone up to check?”
The woman seemed annoyed but relented. She made a call and several minutes later a security guard arrived. After a brief conversation in German, of which Nate understood a little, the guard departed for the elevators. He returned five minutes later, spoke to the receptionist, and left.
“I am sorry,” she said again. “He is not here.”
Nate was irritated. He was so close to getting what he needed. “Is this normal, for Herr Richter to not show up to work without calling?”
“No, but it is possible that something may have come up to prevent him from coming in today. You are welcome to wait or come back tomorrow.”
Nate decided to do both, so they waited.
He checked his email on his phone to see if there were any new messages.
There weren’t, at least not from the man who worked in the building in which he now stood.
There were some replies to the previous emails he sent out, but they weren’t particularly helpful and he didn’t feel like tending to them at the moment.
He paced around, noting from the registry hanging on the wall that Richter’s office was on the sixteenth floor.
He also noted the cameras at the building’s entrance, the alarm system, and the door that led to a patio out back that several workers had repeatedly used for smoke breaks. Lastly, he noticed the time.
It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon. He turned to Wally and shrugged. Wally glanced down at the hands of his Breitling Avenger Seawolf, a favorite watch of many who served in His Majesty’s SAS, and shrugged back.
“Endex?” Wally asked. He had been a great sport, sticking by his side even though Nate offered to let him off the hook.
Rather than go back to the hotel, the Englishman had stayed, eventually plugging his phone into a nearby outlet while continuing to scroll through various apps to stave off boredom.
“Yeah,” Nate sighed, “I think so.” He turned to the receptionist. “Please, miss, if he arrives or calls, can you tell him we were here?” He wrote down his name and number on a piece of paper and slid it to her.
“I will,” she promised.
“Otherwise, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, the frustration evident in his voice.
“Have a good evening, sir.”
Sure, Nate thought. A great evening.
As they left the building and walked back to the hotel, Nate was less enthused about the beauty of the city.
Wally tried to cheer him up, and offered plausible explanations that didn’t involve the man just blowing him off.
It was certainly possible something had come up, or that Richter had forgotten, or any number of other scenarios.
When they arrived at the hotel they went straight to the restaurant and had dinner. It was delicious, and Nate started to feel better. The walk had helped him blow off steam and the food, beer, and conversation were all helping to improve his mood.
“Right, so here’s the deal,” Wally said after they finished their meals. “That tosser has got to go back to his office at some point, right? We’ll just wait him out. We’ve got time, yeah?”
“It’s true,” Nate conceded.
“Of course it’s true! We know where he works. Even if he is trying to give us the slip, we’ll find him and get what we need sorted. No doubt he’ll be there tomorrow.”
Nate gave a mock toast and smiled. “Tomorrow it is, then.”
Nate approached his hotel room, feeling the disappointment ebb from his body.
He was right, he could feel it. The underground water tables in Saudi Arabia were one of the keys to finding Ubar.
If the region followed the same climate patterns as Shisr far to the south in Oman, then the ancient water sources that fueled the fabled city must be underground as well.
Richter held the answer, and he would give the information up one way or the other, if Nate and Wally had to hunt him down themselves.
Fishing for his key card in his pocket, he casually glanced at the top of the door and froze.
Something was missing. Before leaving for the day, he had placed a set of tells on his door, simple items that if disturbed would signify his room had been entered.
In this case it was a single strand of hair applied to the top of the doorway with saliva, running across the door and the lintel. However, it was no longer present.
He hesitated before swiping his key card on the electronic lock, hearing a beep followed by the click of the door unlocking.
The DO NOT DISTURB sign was still hanging on the knob so the cleaning staff should not have entered.
Still, what were the odds that someone had entered his room?
Nate reminded himself that he was a civilian.
This was not an operational deployment, but rather an academic fact-finding trip.
There was no reason anyone would be targeting him, least of all here in Germany.
He relaxed a bit. Besides, it was just as likely that a swift breeze from a passerby hurrying down the hallway had ripped the hair from its place. The security measure wasn’t perfect.
Nate depressed the handle and then slowly pushed the door open a crack.
He heard the sound of paper falling to the floor and relaxed further.
The second tell. He had placed the first on the outside, and inside he had shoved a brochure acquired in the lobby through the crack in the door until it no longer protruded on the outside.
If someone had entered it wouldn’t have looked out of the ordinary for the brochure to be lying on the floor, but it worked to inform Nate whether or not his room had been tampered with.
He opened the door the rest of the way and entered.
The bathroom was just ahead on his left before the entryway opened into the main room.
The bathroom light was off, and he couldn’t recall whether he had left it on or not.
Still, the second tell was there, and he knew he was being paranoid.
He allowed himself to relax completely as he strode into the room.
But while his conscious mind allowed itself to be complacent, his primal subconscious had no such ability.
Years of training and operational experience had installed a deep level of programming into him that was not easily undone.
It was the reason why he more felt than saw movement from the bathroom as he passed, and why his body was primed to defend itself.
Nate threw up his left arm, covering his ear and blocking his head while simultaneously shrinking to protect his flank.
A hard object rained down on his forearm and the pain registered immediately.
He absorbed the blow and then squared to meet his attacker as the unknown assailant lunged forward.
The two men flew into the main room and onto the floor at the foot of the bed, knocking over Nate’s duffel bag.
The attacker was dressed in a black leather jacket and wearing a mask and leather gloves.
Nate attempted to roll away, but the man jockeyed for a position of leverage as they grappled on the floor.
Within seconds the man was on top and attempting a blood choke using the collar of Nate’s suit coat.
His attacker was well trained. Nate thrust his hips forward, temporarily putting the man off balance and causing him to release one hand to stabilize himself using the floor.
It was the same move he had used last week against his opponent at the fight gym.
The shifting of weight was all Nate needed.
He trapped the man’s hand on the floor with one hand while reaching behind the arm with the other, before scooting to the side to engage the man in an armbar.
He felt the satisfaction of a well-executed move and worked to apply maximum pressure to break the arm.
He miscalculated. The man went with the move while locking his fingers from both hands together, before applying a vicious headbutt.
His attacker’s forehead met with the side of Nate’s face and he saw stars.
His grip slackened and the man pulled free, instantly pivoting while holding on to Nate’s hand and engaging in an armbar of his own.
Nate mimicked the same defense his attacker had used and locked hands.
Still the man pulled. He was strong, and his technique was flawless.
Nate was going to lose, and he knew it. The man would break his arm and then likely his neck.
Unlike when he had lost control at the fight gym, the former Green Beret felt calm, his anger and adrenaline channeled into focused acts of violence.
His mind searched for an answer. He couldn’t beat his assailant outright and needed to think outside the box.
Glancing up, he noticed they were between the bed and the television.
Nate recalled a statistic he had heard somewhere that on average, falling TVs sent children to the emergency room every thirty minutes in the United States.
While this man was far from being a toddler, it was still worth a shot.
He maneuvered around until the man’s head was where he wanted it, then flipped his legs over his head and kicked the entertainment center as hard as he could.
The television wobbled but didn’t fall. He kicked again.
And again. Each kick created a more severe wobble until finally it slowly began tipping forward.
Nate gave it one more good kick to send it on its way, and the sixty-inch flatscreen hurdled toward its intended target.
The man instantly let go to protect himself and Nate took the opportunity to roll away.
The television landed on the man with a loud crash, and he grunted but appeared otherwise uninjured.
At the same time there was a loud pounding on the door with some muffled yelling behind it.
The noise of the fight must have alerted Wally in the next room, spurring him to investigate.
Nate sprung to his feet and rushed to the door, thankful that he hadn’t engaged the lock, and yanked it open.
Wally stood outside in a pair of boxers and a white T-shirt. He looked at Nate’s disheveled appearance and peered beyond into the messy room.
“Hey, mate, you alright?” he asked with concern.
Nate spun around to face the room. It was empty, and the balcony door was ajar, the curtains blowing in the evening breeze.
He rushed across the room, leaping over the fallen television and through the door out onto the second-story balcony.
It was empty. He looked down over the railing at the street and the woods beyond.
Nothing. Nor on the balconies to the left or right.
The man had seemingly vanished into the night.