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started to slow, giving Jake just a second to decide what to do—pass him or pull up behind the guy. He didn’t like either choice. A car doesn’t stop for no reason out in the middle of nowhere. Jake decided to slow down.
    The rain was a slow drizzle now as Jake pulled up behind the Audi parked on the shoulder of the road. Jake kept the engine running, just in case he needed to pull out in a hurry, but he took the gun from Albrecht.
    â€œWait here,” Jake said. Just as he got out and stood behind the door for protection, his gun at his side, the door to the Audi also opened and a man got out, his hands high in the air.
    His finger slowly increasing pressure on the trigger, Jake suddenly stopped. Something about the man confused him. He was nearly six feet, dark hair, and his frame was as chiseled as it had been when the two of them had first met.
    â€œJake,” the man said. “You’re a hard man to find.” The man stopped twenty feet away, his dark eyes shifting to Albrecht in the front seat of Jake’s car.
    â€œKurt Lamar,” Jake said. “What in the hell is the U.S. Navy doing in Austria?” Jake had worked on a case with then Ensign Lamar of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service years ago in Italy, where they had stopped a theft of high-tech computer chips by former German and Hungarian agents.
    â€œLookin’ for you.”
    â€œKurt, come on. Who the fuck ya talkin’ to here?”
    â€œCan I lower my arms?”
    Jake came around his door, slid his gun back into its holster under his jacket, and moved closer to his old partner. They shook hands and then hugged.
    A slight glimmer of light tried to poke through the clouds and the rain stopped.
    â€œGPS tracker?” Jake asked.
    Kurt shrugged. “I learned from the master.”
    Jake laughed. “That was back before we had GPS. Only had those clunky transmitters. So, you still with NCIS?”
    â€œOn loan. Pinned on lieutenant commander last month.”
    â€œNo shit. It’s been that long? You with the Agency, then?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œVienna office?”
    â€œI should be asking you the questions,” Kurt said, his tone more serious.
    â€œLike what?”
    Kurt’s eyes glanced toward Albrecht.
    â€œYou looking for him?” Jake asked.
    â€œHalf of Austria is looking for him.”
    â€œWhy’s that?”
    â€œListen. . .can we cut the bullshit?”
    Jake shrugged. “That’s always my preference.”
    â€œGustav Albrecht, as I’m sure you know, was at the Donau Bar in Vienna last night around midnight. Two of his men were killed there, along with a bartender.” Kurt stopped and studied Jake for a reaction.
    â€œContinue.”
    â€œYou were also there,” Kurt said. “Left behind some spent brass from a nine mil. No fingerprints. But I’ll bet the brass matches those still in your CZ-75.”
    Jake let out a sigh of breath. He had been caught off guard at the bar, not thinking for a moment that he would even need his gun. Should have picked up his brass.
    When Jake didn’t say anything, Kurt continued, “I found your car a couple of blocks away. You took Albrecht’s Mercedes to Schonbrunn Palace and sat for almost a half hour. I’m guessing you were caught off guard at the bar and wanted to pump Albrecht for info. Stop me when I get something wrong.”
    â€œWhat? You got satellite photos of me scratching my balls? Hell of a use of government money.”
    â€œGlad you still got that sense of humor, Jake. You want me to finish this story?”
    â€œSo you guess I gotta be involved with the shooting. You plant a GPS tracker on my poor little Golf. But answer me this. . .why in the hell is the Agency involved in a simple shooting?”
    â€œNothing is simple, Jake.”
    â€œNo shit! Why are you involved?”
    â€œI can’t tell you that.” Kurt waited for a response from