Strangers: A Novel(107)

Although I know that I should jump up now and find cover, I can’t manage it. It’s as though my body were made of concrete and time was molten lead—I’m aware of the fact that everything around me is happening at breakneck speed, but every detail still embeds itself in my mind.

The shelving unit buries Christoph Bartsch beneath it, right in front of my eyes. The man who, according to Gabor, had failed in relation to me. Then we’d have a killer here with us.

Two of Gavin’s people shoot at the men who are covering von Ritteck, while the old man himself calmly sets his walking stick aside and checks the contents of his revolver.

Then there’s a hand on my shoulder. Someone grabs me under the arms, tries to pull me up. “Come on, Jo. Quickly.” Erik, it’s Erik. I turn around, see his pale face. In his right hand he’s holding something that looks like an automobile jack. There are hairs stuck to one end of it.

“Please.” He puts down the jack and pulls me up a little. “We have to find cover, quickly.”

The shears, I want to take the shears, it could be useful to have some sort of weapon, but my hands are still tied.

As if Erik understood me without any words, he reaches for them, lifts me onto my feet, and pulls me behind one of the large piles of crates.

More gunshots, this time followed by screams. Can no one outside hear this? Someone has to be hearing it!

“Hold still.” Erik grabs my hands, and suddenly they’re free. I can’t feel them still, but I can see them. Blue and red and swollen. My wrists are chafed raw and bloody.

Erik lets the cable tie he’s cut fall to the floor. “Those assholes,” he whispers.

More gunshots. This time there are no screams.

But there is … a metallic grinding sound. Not in front of us, but behind us. One of the gates to the ramps is slowly going up, although only halfway.

An escape route. If we can make it out there, we can call for help.

Have von Ritteck’s people noticed? Can they see it too, from their position?

A black shadow dashes past the half-open gate. Reinforcements from this ominous-sounding squadron maybe, paramilitary fighters, against whom Gavin’s team wouldn’t stand a chance.

If they come through the gate, they’ll see Erik and me right away.

“We need a new hiding place.” Without waiting for Erik’s response, I squeeze through the crates, which have been stacked to form something resembling lanes … and from here I can see Gavin again. He’s entrenched himself behind the crates with two of his people; they’re conferring quietly—do they even have any ammunition left? And if they don’t, how long will it take for their opponents to realize?

No one has pulled Bartsch out from beneath the shelves. One of the heavy crates is covering his body from the waist down, blood is oozing out of his mouth, but he’s still alive. Trying weakly to push away the ton of weight that’s slowly crushing him.

And then suddenly they’re there. Without any sign, without warning.

“Attack,” somebody roars, and the special police commando swarms the building like a horde of black ants.

They barely meet with any resistance. Gavin and his people immediately lay down on the floor with their hands behind their head, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Gabor does the same. Only one of von Ritteck’s men tries to flee, through the hole made by the truck. Three policemen set off in pursuit.

The only glimmer of calm in the middle of all the chaos is the old man. He looks at the policemen with a smile, still holding his pistol in his hand. The machine guns which are pointed at him clearly don’t impress him.

“Drop your weapon!” bellows one of the special unit people.

“Of course,” says von Ritteck. “Just a moment, please.”

He glances over at the dead Lambert, then at the man who Erik attacked. A jolt goes through his body, as if he were standing at attention, as if he’s about to salute. “The seed I’ve planted will grow regardless,” he says. “For Germany.”

In one quick motion he lifts the pistol, puts it in his mouth, and pulls the trigger—simultaneously, the police open fire on him.

I turn away. The seed I’ve planted will grow regardless. We’re going to have so much to explain, Erik and me.

The battle ends almost as quickly as it began. The policemen drag all of von Ritteck’s collaborators out of the building. An officer from the police unit comes toward us. “You’re Joanna Berrigan? Erik Thieben?”

“Yes.” Erik stretches out his hands, palms up. “We’re unarmed. Both of us.”

The man makes sure of it himself, before nodding toward the open gate. “Go outside, you’ll be looked after there.”

Yes, and I have to take care of Gavin and his people. Are they all alive? Will they get into trouble for saving me? I have no idea how legal it was, what they did.

But first …

“I have to speak to the man who’s lying under the shelving unit,” I say. In a friendly tone, without any hint of bossiness or arrogance. “Please. It’s very important.”

The special unit guy shakes his head. “Under no circumstances. We have orders to empty the building immediately.”

“Please.” I put all the despair that has filled me for days into this one word. “I have to understand why all this happened to me, and I think he knows. Please give me the chance to talk to him.”