KATALYSIS’ HEART
Raymund Eich
CV-2 Books ● Houston
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or any known events is purely coincidental.
KATALYSIS’ HEART
© 2012 Raymund Eich
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
Cover art: Prototype Of Women
© Lonely11 | Dreamstime.com
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The coffeehouse door swung open on creaking hinges, and in walked a lone man silhouetted by sunlight reflected off a bus window on Kärtnerstrasse. That must be him,
Chris said.
Elena looked closer. He stood five-ten, and short brown hair receded from his high forehead. He wore a blue plaid three-piece suit and carried a leather briefcase. The angle of his cheekbones and the cut of his lapel marked him as European. He walked up and asked, in English with a flat German accent, You are the Van Pelts?
Schultz, the middleman, had assigned them that codename. Elena spoke. Yes. Herr Schroeder?
Wrinkles radiated from his eyes, and creases crossed his forehead. Call me Hartmut.
I’m Chris.
They shook hands.
Elena,
she said, and raised her hand.
Rather than shake it, Hartmut turned her hand over and kissed it. A beautiful name, Elena.
She blinked. My great-grandmother’s.
When had she last heard something like that?
Sit,
Chris said, his eyebrows lower.
A waitress, this one with orange hair and spider tattoos on her cheeks, came up to take Hartmut’s order. Their dialects clashed for a few seconds, until he ordered in English. She bustled away.
Hartmut asked, You arrived yesterday?
Chris nodded. We’ve already gotten to work. This morning I nosed around the internal network at Katalys--
Shh!
