Desert Fire by David Hagberg Page A

thinking about Sarah. That was probably when they’d met. And if all had gone according to Whalpol’s scheme, it had probably been love at first sight.
    He checked his watch, then sealed the diary in the envelope. Before he returned it to the Iraqis he would need a translation. There was no telling if the woman would bring help when she came, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Leila Kahled was the Mukhabarat chief here in Germany. The Iraqi Secret Service had a very tough reputation. He wouldn’t put it past her or her people to barge in and snatch the diary. He stuck a couple of stamps on the envelope and deposited it downstairs in the mail slot.
    Back in his apartment, Roemer telephoned his office and spoke with Rudi Gehrman, operations chief for the district.
    Unlike the Bonn Kriminalpolizei, the federal criminal office was more a clearinghouse than a nuts-and-bolts investigative agency. The BKA depended on reports from other police forces, much like Interpol. Individual federal investigators, such as Roemer, were called in only for cases that crossed county lines or involved national issues. Gehrman was the coordinating genius behind all those efforts.
    â€œSomeone from the KP called this afternoon and raised hell about you, Walther,” Gehrman said. “Came out of the blue.”
    â€œManning?”
    â€œRight. Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on? The first I hear of this is you getting shot up. Are you all right?”
    â€œI’ll live. What’d Manning have to say?”
    â€œHe wants us to handle this case—officially. I naturally told him I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.”

    â€œIt’s a long story, Rudi. You can call Schaller on it. This is his baby.”
    â€œHe was here. And by the way, the colonel wants to see you in the morning. And you had another call, from a woman. Iraqi Federal Police. She’s involved at the embassy.”
    â€œI talked to her.”
    Gehrman was a short, thin man who wore steel-rimmed glasses. He was married and had six children who adored him. No other operations man in Germany could compare with him. But he got miffed when he was left in the dark.
    â€œGive me a clue, will you? I don’t know how to log this. Do we start a file? A case number? What about your time?”
    â€œI’ve been detached. You’ll get something on it.”
    â€œDetached,” Gehrman said. “It has a wonderful ring. Will you be gracing us with your presence soon?”
    â€œFirst thing in the morning. But listen, I want you to do something for me. But quietly.”
    â€œThis doesn’t sound good.”
    â€œI want you to pull the national security file on Ludwig Whalpol. He’s a major in the BND.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œI want to know who he works for, and I want his background. Whatever you can dig up.”
    â€œYou’re playing with fire here, Walther. They don’t take kindly to those kinds of inquiries down in Pullach. They’ll want to know why.”
    â€œI don’t want them to find out.”
    Gehrman hesitated. “What have you gotten yourself involved with? I’ll have to clear this with Legler.”
    â€œNo,” Roemer said sharply. Colonel Hans Legler was the Chief District Investigator. Roemer’s boss. “I don’t want a fuss, Rudi. But if you can’t do it …”
    â€œYou’ll owe me a very large explanation.”
    â€œYou’ll get it.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do. But you’d better start thinking about how you’re going to cover your ass if the right
people start asking the wrong questions.”
    â€œI’ll see you in the morning, maybe sooner.” Looking out the window, Roemer saw Leila Kahled getting out of her Mercedes in front. “Oh, one other thing. There may be a large, brown envelope coming for me tomorrow. If you haven’t heard from