Erik, a twenty-something medical student is still dealing with the trauma of his grandfather Victor's murder and his own involvement in the dangerous conspiracy that followed. He decides to put his schooling on hold and takes his family on a trip to Europe to say goodbye to his grandfather. But Victor's past catches up to Erik once again when a mysterious woman makes contact with Erik on the streets of Berlin claiming Victor once hid evidence of a terrible crime for her. Evidence she desperately needs to clear her name and bring a notorious East German serial killer to justice.
When that woman falls victim to the killer, Erik is thrust back into the fire as he becomes a suspect in her murder. Things go from bad to worse when a shadowy force of mercenaries descend on Erik and demand the evidence the woman was asking for. On the run for his life once more, Erik must crack the code of Victor's ledger and find the evidence before he's hunted down and silenced forever.
Can Erik and his allies run out the clock and bring a killer to justice, or will they become further victims in a decades-long killing spree?
Erik, a twenty-something medical student is still dealing with the trauma of his grandfather Victor's murder and his own involvement in the dangerous conspiracy that followed. He decides to put his schooling on hold and takes his family on a trip to Europe to say goodbye to his grandfather. But Victor's past catches up to Erik once again when a mysterious woman makes contact with Erik on the streets of Berlin claiming Victor once hid evidence of a terrible crime for her. Evidence she desperately needs to clear her name and bring a notorious East German serial killer to justice.
When that woman falls victim to the killer, Erik is thrust back into the fire as he becomes a suspect in her murder. Things go from bad to worse when a shadowy force of mercenaries descend on Erik and demand the evidence the woman was asking for. On the run for his life once more, Erik must crack the code of Victor's ledger and find the evidence before he's hunted down and silenced forever.
Can Erik and his allies run out the clock and bring a killer to justice, or will they become further victims in a decades-long killing spree?
It was happening again. The dimly lit room stank of cigarette smoke. The two-way mirror showed Erik a reflection of himself he fought to comprehend. He eyed the handcuffs hugging his wrists, binding him to the stainless-steel table that came generic in every interrogation room. His hair was a mess, as if heâd been pulled directly out of bed by the somber German man sitting across from him with an unimpressed scowl stamped on his face.
âHerr Brown, twenty-four hours ago, Monika Martin was a person forgotten, disappearedââ
âDisappeared?â The words tumbled from Erikâs mouth without a thought as his mind explored the connotation.
 âYes. She disappeared from German society without a trace . . . before even the construction of the Berlin wall. But this morning, she reappears in a MĂŒlltonneâa dumpster. Yesterday, she was seen arguing with you. How did you know Monika Martin?â
Erik thought about the frail old woman who had found him outside the cafĂ© yesterday morning. About the pleading look sheâd given him as she asked for his assistance, for him to follow her to somewhere prying eyes wouldnât find them.
âI didnât,â was all Erik could respond with as he battled the image of her lifeless face lying amongst the dayâs trash.
âHerr Brown, we have a witness that saw you arguing with Frau Martin in front of a cafĂ©. They described you perfectly.â
Erik just looked at the man as he allowed his mind to shed the sluggish feel of anxiety and lack of sleep like a snake shedding its skin. Something felt wrong.
They think you killed her, Victor whispered from the back of his mind. The voice of his dead grandfather, the verbalization of Erikâs instincts, his subconscious. Itâd gone mostly quiet in the aftermath of his tangle with the Polish mob several months prior.
âYes, a woman stopped me yesterday, but we didnât argue,â Erik said, trying to hide his surprise at the voiceâs sudden intrusion into his thoughts. âShe just wanted to talk. She claimed she knew my bestefarâmy grandfather.â Erik paused and gathered his thoughts as he pretended to search for the equivalent in German.
Was that why theyâd arrested him? Was he really a suspect? But heâd been with his family, his girlfriend, ever since his brief encounter with the woman. Theyâd spent the day visiting crowded, well-surveilled tourist traps. The police would be hard pressed to poke any holes in his alibi. So, that meant they wanted something else.
But what? Victor agreed.
âI understand English quite well, Herr Brown. Is your grandfather German?â
Erik shook his head. âNorwegian. Before today, I was unaware heâd even been to Germany. How she found me, knew I was in Germany . . . I donât understand. Who was she? She only said sheâd known my grandfather back in the day. Opa, thatâs the word.â
The officer squinted at Erik as he thought about his own response. Then he let out an exaggerated sigh and pushed his chair back from the table.
âShe was an East German criminal. She disappeared off the face of the planet after committing a series of crimes and was never seen again until she made contact with you. Why?â
âWhy?â
âExplain to me why talking to you was so important to this woman that sheâd come out of hiding and risk everything.â
Victor had hidden something for her, evidence of a crime. Or so she claimed. But Erik had no intention of offering up that little tidbit.
âWhen do I get my phone call?â he said instead.
âThis is not America, Herr Brown. We do things a little differently here.â
âDo I still have the right to an attorney?â Erik could feel the blood flow to his temples as his anger slowly overtook the anxiety and confusion that heâd failed to purge since his arrest hours earlier.
âHerr Brown, Iâm just asking questions. Iâm a friend here. You were seen arguing with a wanted criminal. Is it not reasonable for us to want to speak with you? To understand your connection with her?â
âSpeak with me, absolutely. But put me in handcuffs? I want to speak with my embassy.â
The officer frowned, letting a long sigh escape his pursed lips. âSo be it, but this makes you look quite guilty, Herr Brown.â
âGuilty of what!? Talking to a stranger?â
âIs murder legal in America? Because in Germany we take it quite seriously.â
There it was. The quiet part out loud. He was a suspect.
Told you, Victor said.
âI assure you, I take murder very seriously. And I hope you catch the killer, but Iâm not involved! So, instead of wasting your time talking to me, why donât you ask your witness what made them think I know anything about this woman? Iâve been in Berlin for all of two days!â
âQuite the show, Herr Brown. A wanted criminal, Monika Martin, just happens to reappear on the streets of Berlin, just happens to search you out, argue with you, and is then found dead in a dumpster. Where did you go with her? We know you left the cafĂ© together. What did she say to you for you to break her neck like a twig? Knock her around like a prizefighter?â
Erikâs mind went back to the image of Monika dead in the dumpster, but this time she was bloodied, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle while her dead eyes stared into the sky above. He fought the tremor of sorrow that tried to shake his skeleton. So much death. It seemed to follow him, ever since his grandfatherâs murder.
âLawyer,â Erik said, his heart trying to beat through his chest.
âSo be it, Herr Brown, but Iâm only trying to help.â
The officer led him out of the room, gripping his elbow for the duration of the short walk to the phones as if he thought Erik might bolt for the exit. He gave a hard stare before he stepped away to offer a little privacy.
Erik wasted no time. His encounter with Victorâs murderers had taught him the importance of being prepared. Anything could happen at any time and if you didnât have the right things in place, that was the difference between sleeping in a warm bed or on the cold, dangerous streets. So, he dialed the phone number heâd drilled into his mind for this leg of his vacation, the US Embassy in Berlin. The phone rang a couple of times before someone answered.
Erik was thankful for the brief respite from conversation as a plan swirled around in his mind and started to take shape. When the man on the other end of the line finished their greeting, Erik launched into the words he hoped would find their way to the right person, the only person he knew he could trust right then.
âThis is Erik Brown. Iâm an American in Berlin and I have a message for John Smith. You can reach him with this very sensitive information at the following phone number.â Erik rattled off the digits Victor had left him after his death, hidden behind a series of clues that started with a bank routing number sewn into the lining of an old suit heâd left for his grandson to find. The phone number connected directly to the CIA, or at least Erik hoped it still did.
Specifically, it connected to an old front business from Victorâs time with the agency, back before he got burned and went into hiding. Back before he decided to relive his glory days by training his unwitting grandson, teaching Erik how to survive in the shadows. What Erik had thought of as childhood games had become so much darker in the revelations following Victorâs murder. But those skills, so carefully crafted within him by his grandfather, had made it possible for Erik to unravel the conspiracy around the old manâs death and bring Victorâs killers to justice. Agent Smith had helped him then, as much as a CIA agent could on US soil, and hopefully heâd be willing to do so again.
âIâve been arrested in Berlin. Iâm being framed for the murder of Monika Martin. She claimed to have worked with my grandfather, Victor Brown, aka Per Larssââ
âIâm sorry, sir,â the voice on the other end interrupted, his confusion obvious, âthis is highly . . . unusual. Iâm not sure how to relay yourââ
âJust call the number. When someone picks up on the other end, they probably wonât say anything, but just read them my message anyway and hang up. Thatâs all I need you to do, okay?â A sense of calm had enveloped Erik. All he could do was wait and hope.
âIâll see what I can do. In the meantime, do you have anyone in Germany youâd like us to contact?â
âListen, I donât know how secure this line is, so I donât want to say too much about my situation. Please, just call that number and give them my message. Do you understand?â
âI . . . Iâll see what I can do.â
âPerfect. Now, please repeat everything back to me.â
The man did. Erik thanked him and the line went dead. He slumped forward, his forehead resting against the cold wall. He closed his eyes against the world, the telephone forgotten in his hand as it pressed into his ear.
He took a deep, cleansing breath before he opened his eyes and hung up the phone. As soon as it rested in its cradle, the officer returned his grip to Erikâs elbow and led him down the hall toward the row of holding cells.
âNot a good conversation?â he asked, misreading Erikâs body language.
âFamily member. Didnât take the news well.â
âYou have family in Germany, Herr Brown?â Erik ignored the question, seeing it for what it was.
âLet me help you, Erik. Just tell me what happened between you and Monika Martin, and we can get this whole thing cleared up. If youâre truly innocent, why not explain so?â Erik shook his head, gritting his teeth against the words he wanted to hurl at the good cop routine playing out in his ear.
âSo be it,â the man continued. âIf you change your mind, contact a guard and they will find me.â
âI want a lawyer,â Erik responded. The officer clucked softly, shaking his head.
âDo you have one?â
He shook his head.
âThen one will be provided.â
The officer led him to a dark holding cell, slamming the heavy metal door shut behind him with a booming clank. The sound resonated in Erikâs mind long after itâd stopped echoing against the sterile beige tiles that lined the walls and floor of his cell.
Easy to clean, Erik decided.
In the corner of the room was a plastic mattress with a thin blanket. A small slit of a window that wouldâve been more at home in a basement sat high above his head, overlooking the minuscule cell. Erik sighed and turned toward the door, spotting an uninviting toilet, mostly just a hole in the tile with a stainless-steel bowl shoved into it.
Erik had survived worse. Several months prior, heâd been forced to sleep on the streets in the dawning cold of winter. At least here he was warm.
He sat down on the plastic mattress and wasnât surprised by how uncomfortable it was. As he fought to find some sense of comfort, Kelsey popped into his mindâhis girlfriend, compatriot, and best friend. She was probably terrified, wondering where he was and why he wasnât back yet. Then he thought about Lars and Selene, his older siblings, and his dad, all oblivious to his whereabouts as he seemingly disappeared from their European vacation.
He should have had the embassy contact them, but he was afraid. This was all a little too familiar. Another former contact of Victorâs entering his life and throwing it into chaos.
âIs what she said true, Bestefar?â Monikaâs words rolled around in his mind, her desperation eating away at him.
Sheâd told Erik that sheâd worked with Victor, that heâd been her handler in East Berlin. Monika had trusted him and given him evidence of some terrible crime. Sheâd only wanted him to hold it while she got control of the situation, but then he never came back. Still desperate to find that evidence, she believed Erik could help. Now she was dead, and he was a suspect.
The timeline with Victor made sense, but Erik couldnât figure out how he could possibly help her. His grandfather hadnât exactly been forthcoming about his past. Most of what Erik knew heâd learned after the manâs death. He had to hope that Smith could help fill in some blanks. Hopefully, the spy had gotten his message.
âNot again,â Erik whispered.
In Germany, a stop along the way on a family vacation to Europe, a young medical student named Erik Brown is confronted by an elderly woman who claims to have known his grandfather, Victor. She said he was holding evidence for her on an East German criminal but never returned to give it back to her. The goal is to end up in Oslo with his family to spread his beloved grandfatherâs ashes in the country where Victor was born. Erik is still dealing with the trauma of his grandfatherâs murder and subsequent involvement in a dangerous conspiracy that followed. When the woman is found murdered by the same serial killer she was looking to Erik for evidence to stop, Erik is forced back into Victorâs world as he becomes a suspect in her murder. A band of mercenaries attack Erik as he is released from prison after questioning by the police. They are now demanding the evidence the woman wanted and to know what the brief exchange Erik had with her was all about. On the run once again, Erik seeks the help of John Smith, a CIA agent who has access to Victorâs ledgers, all in a secret code no one can decipher. All Erik has to do is crack his code (no easy feat) and turn over the evidence before the band of murderers take not only his life, but the life of the woman he is in love with along with his brother.
âA Killer of Spiesâ has an interesting premise, though I admit to wondering more than once what would possess a spy to train his grandson to also be a spy. Willingly suspending your disbelief is a must in order to fully enjoy the book. Itâs fairly exciting, and a page turner, though I saw through a couple of the distractions and focused on who I (correctly) believed was the criminal behind the whole operation to get the evidence away from Erik. That said, there were a couple of well-placed red herrings and twists before the reader gets the definitive answer who the perpetrator really is. It is Book 2 of a trilogy, and although I have not read Book 1, it read just fine as a stand-alone novel.(I assume you will be better equipped for what to expect in Book 2 by first reading Book 1 if there is more information to be found there, especially on Victor). If you like spy mysteries or thriller/mysteries, this is a book for you. Rated 3.5 rounded up to 4.
Iâd like to thank ReedsyDiscovery and J. Warren Weaver for the opportunity to read and review this ARC.