The 13Th Apostle

By Dan Danov

A prominent Swiss banker in Palm Beach finds his wife murdered and suspects a secret military operation. His determination to find out who is behind the killing throws the Swiss diplomatic and military establishment into panic. He has the knowledge to expose the biggest secret of all how the gold and artifacts stolen from Jews and deposited in secret bank accounts during WWII became the foundation for a worldwide investment scheme that became the pillar of the Swiss economic miracle.

Max Hooker becomes involved in the case when the murder takes place at his door step. He stumbles on to a covert military operation and a mysterious "13th Apostle". Max has to gain the confidence of a surviving Nazi organization as his search takes him to Germany, Paraguay and finally to Switzerland. His possession of secret bank records and the coinciding US Government negotiation with the Swiss banks on behalf of the surviving Holocaust victims allows him to recover some of the stolen loot. Max finds out who the real "13th Apostle" is and closes the circle of a dark human tragedy that originated in the last days of WWII and came to a close when the secret is revealed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 19, 2009
• ISBN: 9780595629107

Dan Danov

Dan Danov lives in Hobe Sound where he draws from Florida's vibrant, multi-cultured population to create his colorful characters. His Max Hooker series provide the setting for the hair-raising adventures that span all continents at break-neck speed. The 13th Apostle won the New Author Award from Authorlink for Suspense/Thriller.

Book preview

Chapter 1

She had only a few seconds left to live.

Gloria Berger was straining her eyes to peer through the early morning downpour. She could barely make out the writing on the building in front of her. It was the address she was looking for. The rain obscured her vision as she was trying to find a parking place as close to the entrance door as possible. She aimed her Jaguar for the empty spot next to the Porsche in front of her. The last thing she saw was a tall man in a light business suit emerging from the entrance door and bolting for the Porsche before the world around her exploded in a flash.

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Max Hooker was on an emergency call. Hackers had ransacked one of his client’s computers during the night and some highly sensitive information was missing. The commercial espionage case was quickly escalating. As he ran through the driving rain towards his Porsche he noticed the run-away Jaguar zigzagging across the parking lanes in front of him out of the corner of his eye.

Max couldn’t hear the sound of the muffled shots exiting the long barrel of the silenced murder weapon as they dissolved in the noise of the driving rain. The sharp crack he did hear came from the impact of the bullets as they shattered the car’s windows

The two shots ripped through the driver’s window and found their mark. The impact threw Gloria Berger’s body across the empty passenger seat where it lodged itself between the gearshift and the seat back. A bright red mist of blood and tissue exploded across the white leather interior and the surrounding car windows. It obscured Max Hooker’s view as he came running across the parking lot.

The Jaguar kept on rolling until it broadsided his Porsche in a loud, metallic boom. Max ducked instinctively and raced towards the runaway car. His view through the shattered driver’s window confirmed that the victim was mortally wounded. He turned and checked out the empty parking lot in front of him. The place was deserted. Only a few cars parked alongside the office building. The Royal Palm trees that provided the border with U.S. 1 would have offered no place to hide. The area looked ghostly like a deserted movie set.

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The two men in the rented Mercedes had been trailing Gloria Berger since she left her house in Palm Beach early that morning. Their operation proceeded smoothly until her Jaguar made an unexpected turn into the parking lot with the sign: Global Imports & Exports. Both men knew that it was Max Hooker’s office and that they had to act immediately or their whole operation would be in jeopardy. It was the one place they had to keep her away from.

Sweat formed on the driver’s forehead as he tried to peer through the windshield wipers. A flood of water obscured his vision as he had turned to his partner. Damn, Hugo. She is heading for Hooker’s office. Take her out now before she spills her guts and it’s too late.

I can’t. You know I need a clearance from headquarters for that.

The taller man in the passenger seat pulled out a cellular phone and dialed an overseas number in Bern, Switzerland. He started to speak rapidly in Schwyzertütsch, a local Swiss dialect. The man on the other end was his superior and he needed permission to take out his target. He quickly explained the situation and handed the phone to his partner while he was put on hold.

I’ll get ready. Let me know if we get the green light.

He squeezed his large frame between the seat uprights and crawled into the back. He quickly opened a long metal case, which he had taken out of the trunk a few miles back in the parking lot of Madline’s Restaurant. It was there, that Gloria’s breakfast meeting with a female friend had first aroused his suspicions. He removed the various parts of a sniper rifle and started to assemble them. It was an Israeli M89-SR Semi-Automatic with a 7.62mm caliber and a special scope designed for an effective range of 1000 meters. He would have preferred a model Sig Sauer 3000, which he had used in his Swiss Army training but that’s all he was able to get on short notice. It was a good second choice and the only problem was that it measured over 40 inches with the silencer attached. He would have to roll down the back window and stick the rifle out into the rain in order to get a level shot off.

His partner had pulled the Mercedes onto the shoulder of the road, directly across from the parking lot and Gloria’s Jaguar. It offered him a clear line of fire. The rain was still coming down in buckets as he braced himself as best he could. He had difficulty seeing through the downpour but the relatively short distance would make up for that.

You have authorization, was all he heard before he steadied his left arm and took aim through the scope. He squeezed off two shots and saw the devastating effects through the crosshairs. The whole procedure took less than a minute and the Mercedes pulled back onto the deserted road.

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Laura Huggins, the police dispatcher on duty at the Martin County Sheriff’s office pushed the blinking button on the incoming call section of the switchboard. She was munching on a Raspberry Zinger while opening a Diet Coke and had to finish swallowing before she could pick up the call. Her enormous, 250-pound frame sagged over the arms of her chair as she pushed herself across the floor towards the switchboard.

Martin County Sheriff’s office. Is this an emergency?

Probably another old fart, too lazy to dial information. Why do they waste my time with stupid requests that have nothing to do with serious police work? I can’t even finish a bite to eat in this damn circus.

Just the thought of it pissed her off. This call, however, turned out to be serious.

Quick. A woman has been shot in her car. It’s very bad. Please hurry, is all the voice said. Laura tried to calm down the female caller. She needed some more information but the caller had already hung up. The call identification screen in front of her displayed the source of the call. It originated from a business location with the name Global Imports & Exports, Inc. located on U.S. 1 in Stuart.

Laura put out a call over the Telenet since it was the fastest way to locate a patrol car in close proximity. A couple of units were within a mile or two and started to the location immediately.

It seemed like a routine call. No one could have predicted the events to follow would have serious repercussions across three continents.

Chapter 2

Max felt the rain running down his neck. He tried to pry the car door open on the driver’s side, but it was jammed from the collision. He then tried the passenger side and braced himself with his left foot propped against the car’s frame. The door gave way slowly as he mustered all his strength and pulled with both hands on the door handle. The view in front of him was sickening as he bent down to the blood-covered woman.

Max took a quick assessment of the mutilated body in front of him. It was clear that she had died instantly.

The bullets had penetrated her shoulder and chest from the right side and left gaping exit holes on the opposite sides. He had seen the devastating effects of a powerful rifle at close range before and the sight brought back harrowing pictures in his mind.

He surveyed the interior of the Jaguar carefully, but there was no sign of anything unusual. The car was empty except for the body and a pocket book, which must have been thrown on the floor by the collision with his Porsche. He took out his handkerchief and was just about to open the glove compartment with it when Ivan Stone, his second in command, came running towards him. He bent over Max’s shoulder trying to get a closer look inside.

Tina called the police and I asked her to keep everybody inside. This goddamn rain … He immediately took in the significance of what had happened.

Jesus Christ, this is a professional hit, Max. What the hell happened?

He bent over Max who was peering into the glove compartment. It contained an instruction manual and what looked like a car registration and an insurance card. Max didn’t touch anything and closed the lid back. The sirens of the approaching police cars were getting louder. They would arrive in a couple of minutes and it would be their problem.

Ivan now took out his handkerchief and retrieved the black pocket book from the floor panel. He carefully held it in the car’s interior to keep it from getting wet. It was small, but elegantly shaped from black Alligator leather with an ornate gold clasp. The exclusive material matched the rich texture of the women’s clothes and jewelry. The clasp sprang open easily and revealed the contents.

Better leave everything alone. We don’t want to get involved in this mess, is all Max could get out before he noticed the envelope with the large, blue letters Max Hooker on it. That was it, except for a few folded dollar bills, small change and credit cards. The Florida driver’s license identified her as Gloria Berger with an address on Ocean Boulevard in Palm Beach, which signified that she came from, a ritzy neighborhood, reserved for that city’s high society.

Too late … how in the hell … we better keep it.

Max was totally unprepared for it. He had no idea who the woman was or how she ended up on his doorstep, dead. What he did know was that it was a professional hit.

Ivan took the envelope, slid into his jacket pocket and closed the pocket book before he dropped it back on to the floorboard.

Max gave him an approving nod. Go back into the office. I will stay out here for the police. There was no need to say anything else. Years of experience in intelligence organizations had instilled a certain instinct in them that required no spoken words in circumstances like this.

The rain suddenly slowed to a trickle as quickly as it had sprung up and steam started to rise from the hot pavement of the parking lot. It gave the whole scene an eerie look as the first police car pulled into the parking lot.

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Klaus Berger sat at his large mahogany desk in his office at the Swiss National Bank in Palm Beach sifting through a stack of company profiles when the phone rang. He was annoyed since he had instructed his secretary to hold all calls until he had finished his review. It was the intercom line.

I’m sorry Mr. Berger, but it’s the police and they insist they speak to you immediately.

He didn’t acknowledge her but pressed the button on the flashing line. Klaus Berger.

Mr. Berger, this is Officer Gonzales from the Martin County Sheriff’s office. I am very sorry to have to call you like this, but I am afraid I have bad news.

There was a moment of silence as he tried to focus his thoughts on what he had just heard. A sick, uneasy feeling hit him at that very instance.

Oh no, don’t tell me something happened to my wife—

I am afraid so. She was involved in an accident and she … she expired. I am sorry.

Klaus felt as if he had been hit with an iron fist. He closed his eyes as he bent forward in a sudden rush of pain and gasped for air. His most precious possession on this earth, his wife, whom he loved with all his heart, was dead. It seemed impossible but the policeman’s words were clear. First, her face passed in front of him and then those of his children as he started to cry uncontrollably. Tears gushed from his closed eyes.

He sat there for a few minutes before he was able to muster enough strength to speak again.

What happened? Are you sure she is dead?

He was barely able to speak as the reality of it started to sink in deeper and deeper.

"I am really sorry. It looks like she died from gun shot wounds she received prior to the collision with a car in a parking lot. It happened on U.S. 1 at the south end of Stuart. From all indications, she was killed by the shots before the collision."

That moment a terrible realization hit him. The Swiss security people from the bank’s headquarters in Bern were supposed to have conducted a security check on his wife. Everything was to have been coordinated through him and approved by him. Something had gone wrong, very wrong. Those bastards, they must have been the ones responsible for shooting his wife.

You mean someone shot her while she was driving. How the hell is that possible?

The officer was hesitant to provide too much detail on a case that left most questions unanswered at this point. He decided to limit his information and encourage the man to talk to the people at headquarters who were paid to take care of such matters.

Sorry, but there is really little information we are sure of right now. I suggest you get in contact with—

Klaus Berger was unable to think. All he wanted at that moment was to be with his wife, whatever her condition.

Where is my wife now?

They have taken her to Martin Memorial Hospital in Stuart— He wasn’t able to complete the sentence as Klaus Berger had already hung up and started to run out of the office.

A terrible rage began to take hold of him and he started to shake uncontrollably. He vowed to himself that he would find out who had murdered his wife and kill that person himself, no matter what it took.

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The Swiss Embassy is a solid and stately looking building located on Cathedral Avenue in Washington DC. It projects the type of solid image a Swiss institution is expected to do. The early morning sun added to its solid stature, as its occupants were slowly getting ready to resume their daily, bureaucratic grind.

Heinrich Stadelmann was the Swiss Ambassador to the US. Heinrich came from an old line of Swiss settlers. He could trace his family roots back three hundred years to the expulsion of the Huguenots from France in 1685, when his family escaped the clutches of Louis XIV and settled in Basel.

He had been promoted to his current position in Washington DC the year before. His credentials were impeccable and in line with Swiss tradition for such an important job.

The reason he had been picked for the job was his long-standing friendship with high-level U.S. Senators and Treasury officials, gained during his years as a Swiss bank lobbyist in Washington.

The recent claims of Holocaust victims against the Swiss banks had thoroughly shaken the Swiss Government. The Swiss economic future was at stake. After all, the continued flow of monies into its bank vaults was the basis for its enormous wealth. No one knew that better than the Swiss.

Heinrich Stadelmann was their secret weapon and he had already proven worthy of their trust by his deft handling of the various U.S. Senate Finance Committee members and Holocaust organizations in the US.

Ambassador Stadelmann was sitting at his ornate eighteenth century oak desk and reading the New York Times when the light on his red telephone began to blink. It was the latest STU-III model of secure telephones.

He hadn’t expected a call this early. It was still a good thirty minutes before nine o’clock in the morning. The ambassador put down the New York Times and rushed to the safe behind his desk. He quickly dialed the proper codes and opened the heavy steel door to remove the Fortezza cryptographic card. The STU-III could not be operated in a secure mode without the card, which contained all keys and crytography information. He inserted and activated the card and picked up the phone.

Ambassador Heinrich, is all he said as he reached for his gold Mount Blanc pen and a small leather pad.

Good morning Heinrich. It was the voice of Colonel Otto Steurer, the head of the Special Swiss Security Operation that had been put in place to handle all security issues associated with the international Jewish banking issues. The special agency was known to only a handful of top government and military officials. It was highly classified. The code name assigned to it was Operation Guisan, named after General Henri Guisan, the commander of the Swiss Army of reservists in 1939.

The ambassador knew Otto well. He was his cousin.

I am sorry to break in on you like this, Heinrich, but we have a serious emergency and need your help.

He straightened himself in his oversized leather chair and got ready for the inevitable bad news that would follow.

Colonel Steurer was in a jam.

"It concerns Operation Guisan. I was in a meeting with the army brass and left my adjutant in charge temporarily. He is only a major and relatively inexperienced. Unfortunately, an emergency request from our U.S. operatives came in to take out a target. Faced with having to make a decision on the spot he succumbed to the pressure put on him by the operative in charge and authorized the hit."

So why are you telling me this?

There was a long silence on the other end. The colonel knew what the ambassador’s reaction would be and he was hesitant to tell him, but he had no choice. He knew that the ambassador was the godfather of Klaus Berger’s son Stefan and a close friend of his wife Gloria.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there is no way around it. The target was Gloria Berger.

The ambassador felt his heart drop and swallowed hard: You can’t be serious. How in the hell could you authorize your direct report to make a decision like that? Jesus Christ, this is a tragedy. What in God’s name am I going to tell Klaus?

He felt a sudden rage come over him and had to remember to behave like an ambassador, but then the guy on the other end was his cousin. He felt helpless as he realized that he was trapped. It was his loyalty to a close personal friend on one side and his obligation to his country’s security on the other side. It was a loosing proposition.

The colonel didn’t answer right away. He knew that the ambassador and Klaus were close friends and that his cousin was a frequent visitor to the villa in Palm Beach. He wished that there was an alternative, but Klaus Berger had to be secured and brought under control immediately before he could cause any damage to the Swiss Government.

I am truly sorry, Heinrich. I can explain the whole mess to you at some other time, but we have to move quickly now. You know that Klaus has a great deal of knowledge of my operation. I am afraid that he may use his knowledge to get even and that would be absolutely unacceptable … not just to me, but to the highest officials in the Swiss Government. Please … I need your help on this.

Chapter 3

The call came quickly. They had left the scene of their gruesome task, turned west on Cove Road and taken Interstate 95 North to get as much distance between themselves and the place of the shooting. Neither of them had spoken a word for the last few miles. The rain had slowed to a trickle but puddles of water on the road and the developing mist made it dangerous to drive.

The taller of the two was Hugo Benz. He was almost six-foot tall and had the physical characteristics of an athlete. It was his light blue eyes and early graying hair around his temples that gave him the distinguished look of a diplomat. His appearance was deceiving and showed nothing of his cold and brutal nature. He was the ultimate commando machine, efficient and devoted to his task.

His partner was a couple of inches shorter and a few years older. His dark brown hair and brown eyes gave him the softer features in a round, almost jolly face. His name was Johann Gering. He was the senior operative in charge.

The cellular phone rang. Hugo removed it from his jacket pocket and flipped it open.

Yes.

It was his superior, Colonel Otto Steurer and he was well aware that the phone was not secured. He carefully chose his words. They all knew that the National Security Agency had a budget that was larger then the CIA’s and that the unlimited resources were used to monitor domestic and international phone and computer transmissions. The NSA’s supercomputers used speech recognition software to ferret out any information of interest and they had all been trained to watch their wording on all unsecured transmissions.

There was a mistake. The assistant you spoke with made an error.

Hugo could feel his heart starting to race. How the hell could they make a mistake like this? He had just been instructed to kill Gloria Berger and there was no way he could undo it. He was afraid that it might be held against him now, even though it was not his fault.

What are you saying, colonel? The title had slipped out mistakenly. What do you mean by mistake?

The Colonel was not pleased. This was no time to question him about anything. The assistant made the wrong decision. That’s it. Now listen carefully.

Johann had slowed down the Mercedes on the interstate and gave Hugo a curious look as he had picked up the last few words. Hugo shook his head, indicating his disbelief regarding the conversation.

Let me speak to Johann.

He handed the phone to his superior and anxiously watched his reaction to the ensuing conversation.

Johann couldn’t believe what he heard either. A mistake. Are you sure?

Goddamn it. Of course I am sure. I am in charge here and I want both of you to quit trying to second-guess me. It’s too late. Listen carefully. The problem is Klaus and you will have to secure him as quickly as you can. Do you understand me?

He understood all right. The husband knew that both of them had been assigned to perform a financial audit of his bank, but that their real assignment was to check for security leaks. It was his wife that had precipitated the problem by stumbling onto some highly classified information. Their job was to check the extent of the security breach. If it had not been for her decision to pay an ex-CIA agent a personal visit this would have never happened. Something had gone terribly wrong here and he could feel that the whole operation had deteriorated to a dangerous level.

Yes.

Is there anyone else who could cause us problems? The Colonel’s voice sounded icy.

I am not sure, but we will check it out. He knew that the good-looking friend with whom Gloria had breakfast before the detour was the one that had suggested using Max Hooker in the first place. They had found out by monitoring Gloria’s calls during the last few weeks. He would take care of her later as Klaus Berger was now his immediate concern.

Call me immediately when you have any information.

The phone went dead and he handed it back to his passenger. We have to secure Klaus immediately before he spills his beans. He probably suspects that our government is involved in this.

They both knew what that meant and took the first exit off the interstate. They had to act quickly and decisively. Hugo dialed the private number at the bank and got Klaus’s secretary. He knew Tania from his time spent at the bank as part of the audit and quickly got to the point.

Hello Tania, this is Hugo. I have to talk to Klaus. It’s urgent. Is he there? He couldn’t let her know that he knew, but he had to get the information quickly.

The secretary started to cry. She was glad to talk to someone who was a friend of her boss, or so she thought.

Oh my God. I don’t know how to tell you this, but his wife was just in an accident and I think it’s real serious.

Hugo pretended to be terribly upset by the news. What do you mean? Is she hurt or something?

I am not sure. He ran out of here just a couple of minutes ago and all he said is that it was his wife and that they had taken her to Martin County Memorial hospital and that he was going there right now. Oh my God, what should I do now?

Nothing right now. I think it would be best to let the authorities handle this and I am going to see if I can find Klaus and help him. You have done everything you can.

She felt relieved that someone was helping her boss. Thank you and tell him that I will do anything I can.

He had already hung up and told his partner to head for the hospital, which was only a couple of miles east from their position. It would take them less than fifteen minutes to get there.

Fifteen minutes was all they needed, and with some luck they would be able to stabilize the operation. They both knew that they were on the brink of disaster. The whole Operation Guisan was hanging by a hair.

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Global Imports & Exports is what the small plaque read on the front entrance. The building was constructed in typical Florida fashion. Its concrete walls were painted in a light, pastel green and the tall entrance was all glass and stucco. It allowed a clear view of the marbled entrance foyer with a couple of small palm trees. The roof was tiled in a light gray and designed flat in an octagonal shape to protect against hurricane damage. A parking