Nemesis: Innocence Sold Read Free Page B

Martin. She could easily imagine his reaction to her investigation—he would probably scream at her until her eardrums popped.
    Tired, she dragged herself into her cramped kitchen, which was in dire need of a cleaning. After a sip of cola, she put the bottle back in the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of wine. She considered the amount of Rioja remaining in the bottle and finally filled the glass almost to the brim. Though the combination of a missed supper, the alcohol, and too little sleep would catch up with her in the morning, she needed the wine to calm her thoughts. What if a boy with blond hair and brown eyes disappeared in Northern Germany in the next few days? Then she would know that her theory had been correct. But at what price? Was it worth it? What should she do? No one had listened to her, much less taken her seriously. Having had months of practice, she suppressed the question of how she should react if one of her chat room buddies insisted on meeting face-to-face. She took a large sip of wine and reached for an open bag of pretzels.
    With her feet tucked up close to her body, she got cozy on the couch in the living room and sipped the wine. Without wanting to, she recalled her supper with Matthias. The temptation to use his connections became nearly irresistible. Part of her would do almost anything to escape her unloved workplace and chauvinistic boss, but the need to accomplish this on her own got the upper hand. Somehow she would turn things around, even if she really had no reason for optimism with regard to her personal life, which consisted only of phone conversations with her brother, or her job, where she was increasingly being shunted off onto a dead-end track, or her private investigation, in which no one believed. Self-pity washed over her, and she downed the rest of the wine and laid her head back. Somehow she would manage , she repeated like a mantra.

CHAPTER 2
    Under the incredulous gaze of his wife, Dirk Richter stuffed some clean clothes in his duffel bag. She wrinkled her nose and surveyed his outfit. “You wear those pants in the yard, and the T-shirt stinks. There’s no way you can go to the office in that.”
    He grinned. The last few days he had waited until he arrived at police headquarters to transform himself into an unemployed, gambling-addicted man in his midforties, so his wife’s reaction didn’t surprise him. “You forgot to mention that I could have washed my hair.”
    “I would have mentioned that next, but I’ve just realized what this means. You’re working undercover. And this time it’s not as an accountant in a suit.”
    “That’s right, and for that reason I was extra careful not to let any shampoo get too close to my hair after my jog with Mark. But wait until tonight with your questions. If all goes well, you’ll be able to read about our success on the Internet by then.” He interpreted his wife’s wrinkled brow correctly and gave her a brief hug. “Don’t be afraid. I have more backup than I need. Sven and some people from the MEK are going to make sure no one harms a hair on my head. Also, you know I can take care of myself.”
    “So—this isn’t one of your solo jobs, and you’re not running amok with the SEALs. By the way, why is Mark in such a bad mood?”
    He preferred this subject to the subject of today’s mission and therefore decided to answer the question honestly. “Because he has to stay home today working on office stuff and still doesn’t know what Daniel’s decided.”
    “Aha. And what does your mission have to do with?”
    So much for changing subjects. Dirk zipped the duffel bag. “It has to do with a group that gets people who are already down to take out loans and then deprives them of their last remnant of dignity because they can’t pay the exorbitant interest. After the mission I’ll take a shower at headquarters, and tonight you’ll no longer have a reason to complain.”
    A door slammed on the floor above