Yet Another Project, Ch. 4 (The Blackmail Caper)

I am quite a bit into this, so I thought it was time to start posting more chapters.

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“Would you care for an aperitif,” Hauger asked.

“Coffee with cream would be nice, thanks.”

Hauger picked up the handset of his phone and presumably placed the order. One word did sound like coffee.

“Tell me about Haupmann,” I said.

Hauger opened his desk drawer and removed a manila envelope. He handed it to me. “This is a copy of his personnel file, translated into English,” he said.

I opened up the envelope and slid the papers out. There were about thirty sheets. I slid them back in, it was more than I wanted to look at right now.

“Who typed them up,” I asked.

“I did,” Hauger said.

“Who knows about this case,” I asked.

“Here? Only the ambassador. My superior in Oslo knows,” Hauger said.

“The other day, you said that you had a bad feeling about Haupmann. Did you consider just asking him if something was wrong,” I asked.

He shook his head. “I have no indication that something is wrong. If I were to talk to him about what I suspect, that can be an adverse personnel action under our rules.”

“For just showing concern?”

“Yes.”

I was thinking of something to say when the woman who had brought the sandwiches returned with another serving tray. She set a coffee cup, carafe and a pitcher of cream on Hauger’s desk in front of me. I thanked her, she collected the detritus from dinner and left.

“You’re not having anything,” I asked.

Hauger turned around and opened a file cabinet that was a disguised mini-fridge. He put some ice into a glass, closed the fridge, and then produced a bottle. He poured some booze into the glass. Then he sipped it.

“I am going to miss American bourbon whiskey when I am transferred for my next assignment,” he said. “It costs too much in Europe.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. There was no shortage of American military PXs in Europe; surely he had some contacts who would get him some bourbon from one of them. Maybe Hauger was too straight-laced for that. I poured some coffee into the cup, added some cream and took a sip. This was the good stuff.

“So, Haupmann is pinging your spydar,” I asked.

Hauger looked confused. Then he smiled. “Ah, a contraction of ‘spy’ and ‘radar’. You are correct. There is something wrong with him or his life. Will you look into it for me?”

“If the price is right,” I said. “I’ll need a healthy retainer from your government.”

“How much is ‘healthy’,” he asked.

I named an amount. It was into the five-figure range.

Hauger sat back in his chair. “Why so much money?”

I shrugged. “You represent a sovereign nation. I’m not going to get anywhere trying to collect from you if you don’t pay. And I don’t know you. It would be too easy for you to disavow any knowledge of my actions and not pay me. So I want payment, in advance.”

Hauger sighed. “I will need to obtain approval for that. It is above my level of authority.”

“Fine with me. Also, if this case costs more than that, I’ll let you know. Same rules apply, I don’t go into the hole for governments.” I stood up. “If you get approval, you can send the materials on your guy over with the check. I’ll start on the case once the check clears. Also, if Haupmann has signed releases for his medical and financial records, please include them, along with whatever authorizations I would need.”

“What do you mean,” Hauger asked, as he stood up.

“If he’s signed releases for your staff to look through his records, then I’ll need a letter authorizing me to act on behalf of the embassy.”

“I see. I’ll show you out, then,” Hauger said. He walked me to the door. People were still coming in to the reception. The noise level spilling out of the dining room was incredibly high.

At the front door, Hauger stuck his hand out. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Hawkins.”

I shook it. “My pleasure, Mr. Hauger.”

He nodded, somewhat gravely. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Until then.” I turned and walked out the door and went back to my car.

I was a good part of the way out of the city when I realized that I was being tailed. I stopped off at a gas station and topped off my car, for all of four gallons of gas. I went inside, paid for the gas, then browsed the convenience store part for a few minutes. I bought a few things, then went back to my car. A tail picked me up about a half a mile down the road. Whoever was tailing me wasn’t being terribly overt. It wasn’t like they were trying to tell me that I was being tailed. But it wasn’t a big-budget job with several cars picking up the tail and then dropping off.

The tail disappeared when I was about ten minutes from home. I guess they assumed that I was going home for the night.

They were right.