Revenge of Odessa by Frederick Forsyth & Tony Kent

Author:Frederick Forsyth & Tony Kent [Forsyth, Frederick & Kent, Tony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2025-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

Thirty-Four

With the twins uninterested beyond the act of execution and with their brother too senior to get his hands dirty, it was left to Klein and the two federal police officers to move the bodies into the conveniently large trunk of the Mercedes.

Only once the work was done did their boss dismiss them and follow his brothers back on to the jet.

Five minutes later there were three men left on the tarmac and two vehicles. The two uniformed police officers had climbed into the Mercedes—an official police vehicle, Georg assumed—leaving Klein to take the BMW alone.

Brogan had the Sprinter moving before the two cars had even left the tarmac. Parked as it was across the grass verge and cycle lane, the van would have been conspicuous if they had waited until the Odessa men returned. To avoid that attention, Brogan turned the vehicle fast, drove back along the Neßdeich and then left on to An d. Alten Süderelbe, knowing that this was the direction both the BMW and the Mercedes would have to take.

Once on the second road, he parked curbside, activated the Sprinter’s hazard lights and opened the back door, before climbing back into the driver’s seat.

“What are you doing?” Georg asked.

“Making it look like we’re working,” Brogan replied. “Now jump in the back and, as soon as I signal, pull the door closed so we can get moving.”

Georg did as instructed, and in less than a minute they were moving again, the two cars now ahead of them and the back door slammed shut. It seemed to have had the desired effect: there was no change in either vehicle to suggest the van had been noticed. The only downside was that Georg was now traveling in the back of the Sprinter instead of the cab.

Brogan maintained their safe distance as they made their way along what was left of the quieter An d. Alten Süderelbe, speeding up a little once they reached Finkenwerder Street and then putting his foot down as first the two cars and then the van hit Autobahn 7.

Both men stayed silent for the next ten minutes of the journey. It was only after they had crossed the Elbe River and then approached Junction 29 of Autobahn 7, where Brogan veered right to take the exit, that Georg spoke:

“Why are you coming off here?”

“Because Klein’s turning off,” Brogan replied. “And only Klein.”

Georg secured his footing to enable him to stand, allowing him to peer over the front seat and out through the windscreen ahead. He saw that Klein’s BMW had passed the junction and was moving north on the autobahn. The choice of exit confused Georg.

“Where the hell’s he going?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s the wrong way. He’s stationed at police headquarters in Hauptbahnhof, so if he was going to work he’d be heading in the opposite direction. And he lives with his family outside of Hamburg, in Pinneberg. So he’d be heading north if he was going home.”

“Then he’s going somewhere else,” Brogan said.

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