Strangers: A Novel(106)
Gabor is still standing next to the old man, silent, staring daggers at me.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask, deliberately in his direction.
“I’ll tell you in two minutes,” the old man responds in his place.
I don’t understand. “Why two minutes?”
He doesn’t respond, but it isn’t necessary.
I realize that I’ve miscalculated when another young guy with close-cropped hair walks over to us. He’s holding a phone to his ear and speaking into it as he approaches. “Yes, understood,” he says quietly. “And that’s for certain? OK.”
He lowers the hand holding the phone and shakes his head, and the old man raises an eyebrow. “You’ve just forfeited one of your fiancée’s fingers, Herr Thieben. There’s no Manuela Reinhard living at that address, as a good friend at the police department just confirmed for us. Consequently, I would assume that the surname is not correct either.”
“No, that’s … that’s…” I start to say, not even knowing how to end the sentence. But it doesn’t matter, as one of the men steps up to Joanna. He has a pair of shears in his hand.
“No, wait, please,” I say, frantic now. “I’ll tell you the—” But I don’t get any further, because at that very second, the roll-up door explodes.
49
The bang is so painfully loud that at first I think someone has thrown an explosive charge into the building. But then I see the truck.
It has crashed through the closed entrance like an enormous, aggressive animal, tearing the gate to bits, and now it’s racing toward us, the motor revving.
I struggle against Lambert’s grip, which he has involuntary loosened. I just need to get away from here. Away. I no longer understand what’s happening; my instincts have taken over; the panic gives me enough strength to pull myself free.
But the momentum of breaking free makes me stumble. And then there’s another deafening bang that fills the building, and seconds later someone crashes to the floor, half next to me, half on top of me.
Lambert. His eyes half-open, unseeing. Blood is spurting out of a hole in his skull, just above his right eye.
I should be happy that he’s dead and I am, but the sight of him, his lifeless face so close to mine, is unbearable. I try to wriggle out from under him, but in vain. My hands are still tied behind my back, it’s useless, I can’t get away. I feel the scream rising in my throat.
The building is filled with other screams, part fearful, part … commanding. And in my native language.
It slowly dawns on me what the appearance of the truck could mean: That it’s my people, Gavin and his team, that Erik must have somehow managed to inform them.
Yes. Gavin’s first shot would certainly have been at the person who posed the most direct threat to my life. He must’ve immediately seized the opportunity as long as there was no more danger he might hit me.
Gabor has raised his arms into the air, and is trying to explain in clumsy English that he has nothing to do with any of this, but Gavin pays no attention to him, he’s running toward me—and the very next moment I realize why.
Someone yanks my head back. Something hard and cold is pressed against my throat. “Stay where you are,” the man kneeling over me bellows. I can’t see him, but I think it’s the same man who was holding the shears. “One step closer and I’ll slit her throat.”
His English is almost perfect, and Gavin reacts immediately. He freezes midmovement, raises both hands. He’s still holding his weapon in one of them.
“Well done, Becker.” Von Ritteck goes slowly over to Gavin, and I hate the fact that I’m the reason he has to stand there, motionless, and watch the old man pull out his pistol. He aims at it Gavin, who still doesn’t move a muscle.
Von Ritteck cocks his head in approval. “Take a look at that, men,” he says, turning to his people. “That’s loyalty. This man doesn’t even hesitate to die in order to fulfill his mission. Head held high. My respect. I wish I had one of his kind among my ranks.”
I’ve no idea if Gavin understands anything of what von Ritteck is saying. But I’m totally sure that he hasn’t given up yet. Neither on my life nor his.
With every breath, I feel the blade against my neck more. I try to fight back the idea of how it would feel for it to cut, first through the skin, then through blood vessels and tendons …
One way or the other, it was going to happen. Von Ritteck had made it clear that he would let neither Erik nor me live. And now the same fate is in store for Gavin and his people.
I can see two of them. One of them is just behind Gavin, the other is by the truck.
Get in and run over everybody, I think. Don’t worry about me or Erik or anyone.
If Erik was even still alive, that is. I can’t see him anywhere. Maybe he’s lying unconscious behind one of the forklifts. Or between the piled-up pallets.
I haven’t yet finished the thought when a whistle blows through the building. At that moment, one of the shelving units in the building tips over, teetering toward us, but especially toward von Ritteck, who notices it a little later than I do.
He jumps to the side, quicker than I would have thought him capable of, and Gavin dives in the opposite direction, bringing himself closer to me—and at the same moment, the blade is gone from my throat. The hand of the man who was holding onto me goes slack, he slumps to the floor, his head dented in on the left.… The shears slip out of his fingers.