Chuck Driskell [Gage Hartline The Diaries (epub)

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.Through all his grief, Gage knew that walkers by the Main, even in the middle of the night, weren’t all that unusual.He followed the trail until the lights of the city became sparse, and eventually the blackness of the wet night enveloped him, punctuated occasionally by ascending airliners on approach into Frankfurt’s airport, the busiest in all of Europe.Gage kept a steady pace, walking the path for seven straight hours to the southeast.He passed through the cities of Offenbach and Hanau, seeing many smaller cities come and go as he tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and the scene of Monika’s murder.Eventually, the rain stopped and the sun grudgingly showed itself.As he walked, he mechanically processed what had happened.The nausea abated once his mind was in fast motion.Gage had been over his and Monika’s actions hundreds of times as he trudged on, desperate to know what exactly had gone wrong.Had Jean and the DGSE killed her? Or more likely, had it been the Glaives? As ruthless as the DGSE was known to be, he had a tough time picturing Jean’s ordering up a cold-blooded killing of an innocent woman.After what Gage had done to the French agent, he could maybe envisage a private hit ordered on himself, but not Monika.But mobsters, that was another issue altogether.During his time on Hunter’s team, Gage had seen, many times, mobsters use death as an instrument.To them, killing was no different than kidnapping or strong-arming.It was simply a means to get whatever it was they wanted.And the policeman on the scene had said rape was a possibility.Rape.“Motherfuckers,” Gage spoke to the chill morning air, not quite able to muster the anger he so desired.As the sun rose, he donned his sunglasses.Predictably, his head ached as bad as it ever had, pressing his troubled mind back to snippets of Crete.Like what had happened there, he knew this thing with Monika, and whoever killed her, wasn’t the type of thing to just go away.Every time he imagined her kind face and deep brown eyes, the pain rushed back in.She had been killed because of him.He should have never spared the other man in Metz, and for that he blamed the affair in Crete.As always, all roads in Gage’s mind pointed to Crete: his colossal, leaden cross to bear.He shook the thoughts from his head, whispering aloud a phrase Colonel Hunter had drilled into them:“Stay focused.You’re inside the mission.”A stone stairway led into a small town to Gage’s left; a bike path marker indicated the town as Kahl am Main.He ascended the stairs, stopping to let a work truck rumble by in the growing light.There likely wouldn’t be a police station in the small burg, just a constable.If he so desired he could go to the low-level official, explaining everything.Surely it wouldn’t be hard to go back to Metz and prove his innocence by talking the investigators through the actions of that fateful night only four days earlier.“But only if Monika hadn’t been murdered,” Gage said to himself as he scoped out the small town, his mouth watering from the smell of good German bread baking.The low sun peaked through the gray clouds, sending intense rays of light through the near freezing temperatures, actually making Gage feel colder while he experienced their scant warmth.He was soaked to the bone.However, his outer appearance, while sloppy, wasn’t so bad that he would draw attention to himself.His stomach was queasy, screaming for water and nourishment.The town wasn’t the typical German village.This one was mostly new, the stadtmitte laid out in a grid like a kid’s checkerboard.The streets were clean and damp as if a street cleaning truck had just blasted them clear for Gage’s arrival.He kept his head lowered as he moved down the narrow street of the town, turning left and following the smell of strong coffee and the baking bread.Located just off the modest town square was a simple café.Gage peered through the window, seeing the working men eating their breakfasts of brötchen and speck, hot coffee and juice.He stepped inside, his hunger raging at the smell of the fresh bread.A few of the men, mostly laborers from the nearby coal-energy plant, glanced at the stranger before dipping their heads back to their plates.Gage stood at the counter, waiting on two older men to finish paying.Above the coffee makers, a small television quietly displayed the national morning news on RTL Punkt-6.Gage studied a paper menu, planning to order a sack of bread, bananas, two egg sandwiches and two large bottles of water.Just as the two older men reached the cashier, his blood went to ice as his own passport picture filled the television screen.Below his picture, in German, the text announced him as wanted for questioning about a double murder in Frankfurt.It reported Gage as armed and dangerous.Gage glanced around.It seemed every person had stopped what they were doing and was staring at Gage.Again, his world spun [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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