‘They won’t get here in time,’ Tayte interrupted. ‘We have to go.’
They reached the street and Jean went straight to the parked motorcycles. Tayte gave Tobias a gentle push in the opposite direction.
‘Run!’ he said. ‘Just like Amir. Keep going and don’t stop until you’re safely away from here.’
Tayte heard a door slam in the offices above and knew Fleischer and his men were at the top of the stairwell. There wasn’t much time. As Tobias set off, Tayte ran to Jean, who was trying the key she’d picked up in one of the motorcycles. She shook her head and moved on to the next one.
‘They’re coming!’ Tayte said. ‘We need to go now!’
‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ Jean said. She’d moved on to the third bike. She turned the key and the motor fired into life. ‘It’s always the last bloody one, isn’t it? Get on!’
It was a BMW motorcycle, the same make as the one Jean had back in London, only this was much smaller. Hers was a tall, enduro machine, which was more suited to Tayte’s size, whereas this was more like a sports bike, but without the fairing. Jean kicked up the stand and revved the motor, and Tayte honestly didn’t think there was room for him on the postage stamp of a seat behind her, but a shout from behind him quickly forced him to try. He barely had to swing his leg up to mount it. The suspension sank as he lowered himself and locked his arms around Jean’s waist, and then the front wheel suddenly lifted off the ground momentarily as Jean opened the throttle.
Above the sound of the engine Tayte thought he heard sirens wailing in the near distance. As they sped off, he glanced back and saw Fleischer. He was aiming the gun at them, but he must have thought better of pulling the trigger. Contrary to how Tayte felt about riding pillion again after what had happened the last time, he was never more glad to be on the back of a motorcycle again.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Conscious of Max Fleischer’s threat to find him again, and not wishing to discover what the man was going to do to him if he did, Tayte had suggested to Jean that they relocate to a different hotel for their last night in Munich. Following another restless sleep, he was now back at the hospital with Jean, sitting in the waiting area with several walk-in patients.
After their ordeal at the offices of Kaufmann und Kaufmann the evening before, Jean had ridden the motorcycle hard until Tayte felt the need to tell her they were safe and that she could stop. If he hadn’t, he thought her adrenaline would have kept her going until the bike ran out of fuel. They had abandoned it somewhere close to the city centre, and from there they took a taxi to the police station to report what had happened. Tayte let the police know where the motorcycle was, and Jean forwarded a copy of the licence plate photograph she’d taken in the hope that it might help to identify the members of Fleischer’s gang, although Tayte figured the bikes had probably been stolen or had false plates.
On the way to the hospital that morning Tayte had asked the taxi to stop off at Tobias Kaufmann’s office to check that he was okay. He also wanted to collect his briefcase. Since leaving it behind he’d felt as if a part of him was missing and he was keen to get it back, but he’d found that the entrance to the premises had been secured with a heavy chain and padlock, and he couldn’t raise an answer from within. He’d tried Tobias’s mobile phone a few times that morning, but every call had gone straight to voicemail. Tayte had learned from the police that Tobias was okay; he’d been picked up at the end of the street as the police arrived. Tayte hadn’t been surprised to hear that Max Fleischer and his two sidekicks had fled the scene just moments before the authorities arrived.
‘Jean Summer!’
Tayte’s ears pricked up at hearing Jean’s name.
She stood up. ‘Shouldn’t take long,’ she said, and then she went over to the nurse who had called for her.
Tayte watched them talk for a moment. Then Jean came back.
‘That was quick.’
‘I wish,’ Jean said, frowning. ‘Some of yesterday’s test results were inconclusive and they want to run them again. It could take a while.’
‘Inconclusive? What does that mean? You’re okay, aren’t you?’
‘It doesn’t mean anything yet. Just that they don’t know. They said they would hurry things through so we don’t miss our flight.’
Tayte checked his watch, aware that he’d told Jan Statham he’d be with her at the Munich Standesamt first thing.
‘Look,’ Jean said. ‘I know you told me you weren’t letting me out of your sight until we’re back in London, but we don’t have a lot of time left. Why don’t you go to the record office while I do what I have to do here? We can meet up afterwards.’