Tannehill felt a dull thud in the back of his head and an acute awareness of his sinuses. He stumbled forward momentarily but caught his balance before needing to grab his desk for support.
Rather than return home immediately, he'd decided to deposit Snell's items at his office but was beginning to think this was a bad idea. The manila envelope was still secured in his hand as he turned around to see the instigator of his ambush.
A thin man, slightly shorter than himself with dark, wild hair and large, intense eyes stared at him rubbing his right hand. Tannehill couldn't discern the look on his face - was it a leer? A grin? A feeble attempt at acting? A combination of all three?
"What gives, buddy?" Tannehill responded as though someone on the bus had shoved him out of the way for a better position toward the door.
"I was trying to incapacitate you." The leer shifted further toward a grin. His accent was thick and German.
"So I gathered. While that didn't work out, you've certainly guaranteed that I'll have a nice lump on my head."
"Yes, well. When I encountered your partner the other day, I may have been a bit, shall we say overzealous and I didn't want to make the same mistake twice?"
"Right. Brass knuckles?"
The intruder's eyes widened even more, approaching the bounds of physical possibility. Then they immediately narrowed. "How did you know that?"
Tannehill pointed to the sign behind the intruder. "I'm a detective. I detect things."
The intruder considered this for a moment and then nodded, accepting this as a plausible explanation. "Now, Mr. Tannehill, if you would be so kind as to sit on the chair behind you." He stopped rubbing his knuckles and pulled a four-inch blade from his coat pocket and held it a foot in front of him.
Tannehill glanced down at the blade and back up at his intruder. He raised his hands, manilla envelope still firmly affixed in the right one. "Certainly. But if you're going to pull a knife on me and call me by name, at least give me the courtesy of knowing yours."
The man didn't move. "I am Otto."
"Yes, of course it would be something obvious," Tannehill muttered. Though he didn't know if he being humored with a false name, Tannehill suspected this was, in fact, the intruder's name. Normally, this would be disconcerting, as an armed attacker providing real identification usually meant nefarious consequences for the other party in the room. However, the complete lack of intelligence in Otto's face kept Tannehill at ease.
"Are you armed?" Otto gestured toward the envelope with his knife.
Tannehill turned the envelope in profile, showing no indication of anything deadly contained within.
Otto gestured curtly with the knife toward the chair. Tannehill nodded in compliance and, while keeping his eyes fixed on his assailant, hooked a chair leg with his foot and swung it around so it faced the office door rather than the desk. He sat down dramatically and gripped opposite sides of the seat of the chair with each hand. He stared back at Otto.
Otto straightened slightly and began walking toward Tannehill, knife still grasped firmly but now at his side. "Very good. So I'd like to ask you a few questions..."
When Otto was in range, Tannehill lifted his right foot with as much force as he could muster and planted it between his attacker's legs, carrying Otto about two inches off the floor. Otto landed on his feet with a slightly quizzical look before dropping the knife and falling to the floor in a fetal position with both hands holding his crotch. His face collapsed into a grimace and he began to howl.
Tannehill quickly stood up, stomped on the knife and slid it behind his desk as reached into his bottom drawer, removing his revolver. He pointed it at Otto.
"You told me you weren't armed!" Otto yelped, face still curled in pain.
"I wasn't." Tannehill shrugged. "I am now." He re-centered the revolver on his target. "I'm not going to make you sit in the chair to answer my questions, but I'll ask that you not make any sudden movements during our little chat."
Otto remained in a fetal position, moaning. Tannehill took that as an acknowledgment of the terms.
"How did you know I was going to be here?"
"I don't understand why you kicked me! That was very unsportsmanlike!"
Tannehill's voice remained measured. "Granted, but you're the one who ambushed me by punching me in the back of the head, so I'm not sure I have a firm grasp of the rules. I'd like to ask again - how did you know I was going to be here?"
"I didn't," Otto continued wincing, "I knew you'd come here eventually, so I just waited."
It sounded too mundane to be a lie and Tannehill was rapidly deducing that Otto wasn't likely to think out a clear strategy for his movements. "Why me?"
"What?"
"Why are you coming after me?"
"May I sit up?" Otto asked quietly.
"Yes, but no sudden moves." Otto sat on the floor, legs splayed in front of him towards Tannehill and hands extended behind him on the floor for support. Tannehill repeated his question. "Why are you coming after me?"
"You're Snell's partner, yes?"
"According to the lettering on the door, I would assume so."
"Well, then you must have the information we seek that he didn't provide." Tannehill was amazed by such a naive leap in logic that two business partners would share so much information - specifically suspected illicit information - so prodigiously. However, he didn't betray this amazement to Otto.
"By 'we' you mean...?"
"Ms. Brunner. She is my associate, yes. I believe you've deduced that much already."
"Who else? Beederman?"
"Who? Oh, the large man. Yes. Mr. Beedlebaum."
"Ok," Tannehill exhaled, weighing his options briefly. "You're right. Snell and I did chat a bit before he died about that 'information' you're curious to get a hold of, but I don't know all of the details directly. He wrote them down and put them in a secure location. I'll need a day to access them."
Otto objected, "it's very easy really. I don't understand why it requires so much time for one simple question."
"As I said, I don't actually know the information you're seeking, only how to access it. I'll let you know when I'm in possession."
"How do we get in contact with you?"
"Stand up." Otto lurched forward and Tannehill backed a step away taking aim at Otto. "Slowly! I want you to stand up slowly and write a number where I can contact you on this manila envelope. I'll call you in 24 hours with further instructions."
Otto grabbed a pen from the desk blotter and scribbled a number on the envelope. "This is Miss Brunner's flat. We'll be waiting for you to call." He dropped his arms to his sides and stared at Tannehill unaware of what to do next.
Tannehill motioned toward the door with the revolver, "ok, then, Otto. Have a pleasant evening. We'll be chatting again soon."
Otto slowly made his way to the door and exited. Tannehill sunk into the chair behind his desk and sighed exaggeratedly. He had no idea what information Snell possessed or even how to start looking for that information. But, for the first time in the case, he had some temporary leverage.
He looked down at the unloaded revolver in his hand and opened the bottom drawer again to grab some ammunition. Stupid or not, Otto wasn't someone he wanted to encounter again without being fully prepared.
[Author's Note: Merry Christmas (or Happy Holidays)!. Today's edition is 1282 words for a running total of 21207 words. I've been waiting to write this chapter for a while. As has been happening with the rest of the story, it turned out to be longer than expected, so some of the exposition I planned here will occur in a future chapter. I hope to have another chapter ready for consumption in the next couple of days since I'm unencumbered by such things as work this week.]
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