Brotherhood and Others by Mark Sullivan Page A

the Schengen Agreement, which abolished border controls in the European Union, they passed without interruption and proceeded toward the Polish village of Drzecin.
    â€œRogue, I got something on the BMW,” the woman said in Monarch’s ear.
    â€œTell me, tell me,” Monarch said. He was back in the passenger seat in the cab, looking out at drab gray buildings made drabber by the storm.
    â€œVehicle was abandoned by the time the autobahn police reached it.”
    â€œSurprise.”
    â€œYes, well, it was stolen almost a week ago in Munich. The driver of the lorry that hit the BMW said there were three men in it. All exited quickly after the crash, and ran off the autobahn south toward the village of Buckau. Lorry driver claims he never got a good look at any of them.”
    â€œSo we’re nowhere.”
    â€œI’m afraid so.”
    â€œWe’ve got the tracking device. There might be fingerprints.”
    â€œI’ll run them when you get here,” she promised.
    Ten minutes later, in the village of Starków, they turned onto a dark, puddled, and potholed backstreet then pulled into the parking lot of an old gray building and backed up to a loading dock. The second they stopped, Monarch was up and moving again, following Tatupu and one of the nurses as they wheeled DeGrave past his car and onto the dock where they were met by two thin pale men. They could have been accountants or academics were it not for the green hospital scrubs they wore.
    There was a woman with them as well, a tall, reedy redhead in jeans and a heavy wool fishing sweater. “Tracking device?” she said to Monarch by way of greeting.
    Gloria Barnett was in her late thirties, the same woman who’d been speaking to him over his satellite link since the Ellington Hotel. She’d washed out of the Agency’s clandestine training program, but as far as Monarch was concerned, Barnett was the most competent operations runner at the CIA. If he needed something, Barnett got it for himor told him where to find it.
    â€œHi to you, too, Gloria,” Monarch said, handing her the evidence bag as the pale men took over from Tatupu and the nurse. Tatupu blew a kiss at Barnett and went back into the truck as the pale men wheeled the unconscious South African physicist through doors on the left side of the loading dock.
    â€œWhere are they taking him?” Monarch wondered.
    â€œI didn’t ask,” she said.
    â€œSo we’re just a delivery service?” Monarch said, not liking it.
    â€œA highly trained delivery service,” Barnett agreed. “Something to eat?”
    â€œAnd some dry warm clothes,” he said.
    â€œAlready thought of that. They’re inside.”
    â€œGloria, has anybody ever told you you’re the best?”
    â€œWhy, yes, Robin,” she said,beaming.. “Nearly everyone I know.”
    Monarch grinned and followed her through a door opposite the one where they’d taken the South African, ending up in a depressing and decrepit hallway lit by weak bare lightbulbs. The pale green paint was chipped and filthy.
    â€œWhat was this place?” he asked.
    â€œSome Communist-era widget factory.”
    Barnett turned into a second hallway and into a large room with much better lighting. It smelled of fresh coffee. A space heater hummed. A folding table in the corner supported a tray of bread, dried meat, cheeses, and fresh fruit. Another featured two laptops and a headset. Several inflatable sleeping pads were piled in the corner along with socks, wool pants, a black turtleneck shirt, and a dark fleece top.
    Monarch grabbed the clothes, returned to the hall, stripped off his wet things, and was clambering into the dry stuff when Tatupu appeared.
    â€œFowler went to fill up before the return trip,” the Samoan said.
    Much warmer now, Monarch nodded and said, “Better get something to eat, Tats, and a little sleep. We’ve got to be rolling by