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.
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.