A Killer Of Spies

A Killer of SpiesJ. Warren Weaver Copyright © 2023 by J. Warren WeaverAll rights reserved.This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.Independently published.No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available upon request.ISBN 979-8-9856251-3-4eISBN 979-8-9856251-2-7 Books by J. Warren WeaverShadow of a Spy TrilogyTo Kill a GhostA Killer of SpiesSolace for the Forgotten (2024) As I finish this, my second novel, I’m floored with the amount of support I’ve received from my friends, family, and my local community. My success as an author has been greatly impacted by the kindness of the people around me. I dedicate this book to all of you. I’m humbled by every one of you, and thank you with all my heart. It truly takes a village, and I couldn’t imagine living in a better one. To my loving family—my wife, Ceci, who is my muse and best friend, my parents, Chris and Christa, and my sister, Catherine, who have all given me nothing but love and support on this journey.To my first look readers and friends—Mario Quimiro, Megan Silvertooth, and Amber Pitts, once again for your willingness to read an unfinished novel and give me feedback. To Keller for his work on the amazing cover.To my editors—Laura Joyce, and Dylan Garity, for their tireless efforts in ensuring the quality of my work.And to Daniel and Michele Collins, for allowing me to sell my book from behind the bar, Allie Daniel, for being such a fierce advocate for my work, and my amazing community here in small town Colorado. Contents Epigraph 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chapter 16 17. Chapter 17 18. Chapter 18 19. Chapter 19 20. Chapter 20 21. Chapter 21 22. Chapter 22 23. Chapter 23 24. Chapter 24 25. Chapter 25 26. Chapter 26 27. Chapter 27 28. Chapter 28 29. Chapter 29 30. Chapter 30 31. Chapter 31 32. Chapter 32 33. Chapter 33 34. Chapter 34 35. Chapter 35 36. Chapter 36 37. Chapter 37 38. Chapter 38 39. Chapter 39 40. Chapter 40 41. Chapter 41 42. Chapter 42 43. Chapter 43 44. Chapter 44 45. Chapter 45 46. Chapter 46 47. Chapter 47 48. Chapter 48 49. Chapter 49 50. Chapter 50 51. Chapter 51 52. Chapter 52 53. Chapter 53 54. Chapter 54 55. Chapter 55 56. Chapter 56 57. Chapter 57 58. Chapter 58 59. Chapter 59 60. Chapter 60 61. Chapter 61 62. Chapter 62 63. Chapter 63 Coming Soon Thanks To My Readers When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on. - Franklin D. Roosevelt Chapter 1IT WAS HAPPENING AGAIN. The dimly lit room stank of cigarette smoke. The two-way mirror showed Erik a reflection of himself he fought to comprehend. He eyed the handcuffs hugging his wrists, binding him to the stainless-steel table that came generic in every interrogation room. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been pulled directly out of bed by the somber German man sitting across from him with an unimpressed scowl stamped on his face. “Herr Brown, twenty-four hours ago, Monika Martin was a person forgotten, disappeared—”“Disappeared?” The words tumbled from Erik’s mouth without a thought as his mind explored the connotation. “Yes. She disappeared from German society without a trace . . . before even the construction of the Berlin wall. But this morning, she reappears in a Mülltonne—a dumpster. Yesterday, she was seen arguing with you. How did you know Monika Martin?”Erik thought about the frail old woman who had found him outside the café yesterday morning. About the pleading look she’d given him as she asked for his assistance, for him to follow her to somewhere prying eyes wouldn’t find them. “I didn’t,” was all Erik could respond with as he battled the image of her lifeless face lying amongst the day’s trash.“Herr Brown, we have a witness that saw you arguing with Frau Martin in front of a café. They described you perfectly.”Erik just looked at the man as he allowed his mind to shed the sluggish feel of anxiety and lack of sleep like a snake shedding its skin. Something felt wrong.They think you killed her, Victor whispered from the back of his mind. The voice of his dead grandfather, the verbalization of Erik’s instincts, his subconscious. It’d gone mostly quiet in the aftermath of his tangle with the Polish mob several months prior.“Yes, a woman stopped me yesterday, but we didn’t argue,” Erik said, trying to hide his surprise at the voice’s sudden intrusion into his thoughts. “She just wanted to talk. She claimed she knew my bestefar—my grandfather.” Erik paused and gathered his thoughts as he pretended to search for the equivalent in German. Was that why they’d arrested him? Was he really a suspect? But he’d been with his family, his girlfriend, ever since his brief encounter with the woman. They’d spent the day visiting crowded, well-surveilled tourist traps. The police would be hard pressed to poke any holes in his alibi. So, that meant they wanted something else.But what? Victor agreed. “I understand English quite well, Herr Brown. Is your grandfather German?”Erik shook his head. “Norwegian. Before today, I was unaware he’d even been to Germany. How she found me, knew I was in Germany . . . I don’t understand. Who was she? She only said she’d known my grandfather back in the day. Opa, that’s the word.”The officer