Gorilla Republic: Deutschland: Part 18
19 February 2025
They were led to a car with rough upholstery they recognised. Forced into the back seat, they felt the doors slam shut. A few more slams confirmed the departure of their captors, marked by the whining retreat of the van's engine.
“Mapacha?” Banou's voice quavered.
“It is okay, Banou. They have released us.”
“Are you serious? We are tied up in the back of a car with hoods on our heads! They are coming back to kill us!”
“No. They tied us up to buy time to get away. We just need to free ourselves and figure out what is next.”
He was right. After nearly a gruelling half hour of painful wriggling, Mapacha finally loosened his bonds. Sweat dripping from his brow, he freed himself completely, pulled off his hood, and then unbound Banou.
“Thanks. Where are we?” she asked, blinking at the dim surroundings.
“I am not sure, but we need to get out of here. This place does not look safe.”
They climbed into the front seats, spotting their car keys, money, and guns scattered on the passenger-side foot well. Banou scowled.
“Damn!” she cursed. “They took my cigarettes.”
Mapacha quickly searched the car.
“They took the map and my notes too.”
Banou rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pounding headache.
“Who were those guys? You called them UDBA.”
“If I am not mistaken, Yugoslav intelligence. They were watching Ludwig.”
“Why? Is he important?”
“To us and to them, yes. I think it has to do with his Nazi past. They probably want to take him back to Yugoslavia for accountability. Or revenge.”
“Can they do that?”
“They have done it before. . .”
“But if they know where he is, why have not they grabbed him?”
“Perhaps they are waiting for clearance from their bosses, or their plan has gone wrong.”
Mapacha started the car and navigated cautiously towards what he hoped was the main road.
“Where are we going?” Banou asked, disoriented by the unfolding chaos.
“We need to figure out where we are, head back to the hotel, and then decide our next move.”
After a few minutes of aimless driving, they spotted an Aral store. Mapacha grabbed a Michelin road map, while Banou snatched a pack of cigarettes. She lit one before they even exited the petrol station. Dragging hard, she finished it off before Mapacha had figured out their location.
By the time they returned to Sendling, nearly 45 minutes had passed. Back in the hotel room, Mapacha spent the next hour reconstructing his stolen notes from memory. Banou, cigarette in hand, watched in awe at his incredible recall.
When he finished, he leaned back, his intense gaze making Banou uneasy.
“We have to hit Ludwig tonight.”
Banou choked on her cigarette, coughing.
“Wait. What?”
Her trembling fingers fumbled for another cigarette, her fourth in an hour. Red-rimmed eyes betrayed her mounting anxiety.
“It is the only move that makes sense. The Yugoslavs have the upper hand, so we need to act fast. Before they can regroup, we must get Ludwig and the hamsa. After that, they can have him if they want.”
Banou felt defeat creeping in but clung to a shred of hope.
“Mapacha, are you sure this will work? Perhaps we should sleep on it.”
He seemed conflicted for a moment but then steeled himself.
“No more waiting. It is all happening now. Go clean up, pack your musette, and let us get something to eat. By then, it will be dark. We hit Ludwig tonight and leave Munich.”
“Leave? Where to?”
“Away from here, toward Morocco. Eventually back to the island.”
“What about Odria? What do we tell her?”
“Nothing for now. First, the job.”
“But Mapacha. . .”
“No stories, Banou. We do this now. Get moving.”
His unwavering resolve crushed any hope of dissuading him. Resigned, she muttered, “Okay. Let us go, then.”
They quickly packed their bags, dumped them in the car boot, and returned to the hotel restaurant. A waiter served them ham sandwiches and tea, the fastest option available. They ate in tense silence. Afterwards, Mapacha let Banou enjoy another cigarette before heading to the lobby to check out.
The receptionist presented the bill. Mapacha peeled off fresh notes, watched them get counted, and pocketed the receipt. With little fanfare, they turned mechanically toward the exit, loaded into the car, and sped away from Sendling, heading toward Ludwig’s hideout.
The hunt was on.