by Jim Reeves
Braun and Karl were sitting by the coffee table when he entered the room.
‘Coffee,’ said Braun, pointing at the coffee table. Joe sank gratefully into one of the armchairs.
‘Just what I need.’ He would stay just a few more minutes, and then he would excuse himself and get off to bed. He picked up the steaming cup of coffee and sipped it gratefully.
Chapter 18
Bruno entered the room. Joe frowned when he saw that Bruno was carrying his raincoat and holdall. He assumed that he was intending to escort him to his room.
‘I won’t be long,’ he said in Bruno’s direction.
‘Take all the time you need,’ smiled Braun.
‘It really was a fantastic meal, Joe told Braun. ‘You were right. Your daughter is an excellent cook. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything quite so good.’
Braun smiled happily. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ he said.
Joe sat slightly nonplussed as the German conversation continued around him. The evening had been interesting, to a point, for him. The food had been excellent. The drink had been plentiful. Maybe too plentiful. He was going to have a serious hangover in the morning. That didn’t bother him too much. It wouldn’t be the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. But now, even as sozzled as he was, he still couldn’t help wondering why Braun had been so keen to meet him and talk to him. He couldn’t think what Braun had got out of the evening. He wanted to ask him, but he couldn’t quite put it into words.
He saw Braun looking at him and smiled. ‘I really should be getting off to bed,’ he said. He started to rise but sat down again with a bump.
‘Joe,’ said Braun, his expression was suddenly serious. ‘I’m afraid there is a slight change of plan.’
Joe tried to focus on Braun’s face. ‘What’s that?’
‘We don’t have a room ready for you,’ Braun told him.
Joe considered that. ‘Tell the truth, the way I feel, I’ll be just as happy on the settee. I just need to lay my head down somewhere. I’ll sleep, no problem.’
Bruno stepped forward and threw Joe’s raincoat at him. ‘Put it on,’ he snarled.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Joe, rising unsteadily. ‘You throwing me out?’ He looked at his watch. ‘How am I going to get a hotel at this time?’
‘Put your raincoat on,’ Braun told him impatiently.
Joe still looked puzzled. Bruno tried to take the raincoat from him. A slight tussle ensued until Bruno delivered a short jab to Joe’s gut and he sat down hard on the chair. Bruno pulled the raincoat out of Joe’s feeble grasp. Karl stepped forward and pulled Joe to his feet. Joe’s knees gave way slightly. As he gasped desperately for air he sagged against Karl while Bruno pushed his arms into the sleeves of the raincoat and pulled it over his shoulders. Then Bruno and Karl, between them, eased Joe backwards into the chair and he sat down again.
Karl stood over Joe while Bruno left the room. Braun watched proceedings with an amused smile on his face. Joe recovered slightly and looked up at Braun.
‘Look, if I said something to offend you, just tell me.’
‘To be honest with you Mister Box, your very presence in my house offends me,’ Braun told him. He eyed Joe with some distaste.
‘You invited me here,’ Joe told him. ‘If you call a taxi for me, I’ll find myself a hotel somewhere.’ Joe wasn’t too confident that he would find a hotel. It was late and he had no real idea where he was. Maybe he could get the taxi driver to take him back to Salzburg. It occurred to him that in his slightly pickled state he might not be too welcome inside a taxi, or a hotel, come to that. He started to rise but Karl pushed him back into the chair so hard that it rocked backwards.
‘No bruises,’ said Braun sharply.
‘I don’t know what’s brought this on,’ Joe said. His head was clearing rapidly with the change of mood. He was starting to get a little irritated. He’d been brought to this place under duress. Now, it seemed, they wanted to throw him out when it was too late for him to find anywhere else. ‘I know I got a bit pissed but you’ve been plying me with drinks for the last few hours. What do you expect?’
‘I expect you to sit quietly for the moment,’ said Braun.
Bruno returned carrying several leather straps. Joe was confused and more than a little afraid but angry as well. ‘Sorry I can’t oblige,’ he said to Braun. He rose from the chair again and lurched forward. Bruno grabbed his lapels and pushed him back towards the chair. Joe resisted. His dander was really up. He didn’t know what games they were playing and he was no longer interested. He just wanted to get out of that place and be on his way. They swayed from side to side for a few seconds but in a battle of strength, there was only going to be one winner. Bruno lifted Joe off the floor by his lapels and carried him towards one of the high backed oak carver chairs by the table. He dumped Joe so hard onto the chair that his head snapped back and hit the wooden headrest. He was momentarily dazed and breathless as the air was forced out of his lungs.
‘Make your bloody mind up,’ Joe gasped. ‘I thought you wanted me out of here.’
‘In our own time. In our own way,’ said Braun standing behind Bruno watching proceedings.
Bruno held Joe in place while Karl approached carrying the leather straps. Joe didn’t know what was going on. Maybe this was some weird local custom. If it was, they could shove it, he decided. Desperation spurred him. He twisted his shoulders sharply out of the startled Bruno’s grasp, ducked his head and dived forward, out of the chair. He scrambled away out of reach of Bruno and got to his feet. Both Bruno and Karl were moving towards him as he decided on his next move. He had to get out of this place. That was his first priority. There was no way past Bruno and Karl. He had surprised them once. Now they approached warily, arms outstretched. Ready for any sudden move. A quick glance over his shoulder showed another door but that could lead to a dead end. Joe stepped onto the seat of one of the dining chairs at the end of the table and then up onto the table. He took three strides along the long table, kicking plates and dishes onto the floor as he went. Bruno and Karl stared open mouthed as he passed them by. He leapt off the end of the table and ran towards the door leading to the hall. That was his way out.
Braun had acted quickly. On seeing what Joe was trying to do, he ran forward and closed the door. He stood in the way as Joe tried to leave. He didn’t offer Joe much resistance but it was enough to allow Bruno and Karl to join the fray. Bruno wrapped a meaty arm around Joe’s neck and pulled him back away from the door. Karl grabbed his legs and helped to carry him back to the chair. Joe knew beyond doubt, now, that this was no party game. Whatever they had planned was not going to be good for his health. Once they had him strapped in the chair he would be completely at their mercy. He was sure that Bruno, at least, was not the merciful type. He kicked and writhed and didn’t stop struggling as they dragged him across the room. The few blows he managed to inflict were ineffectual against two gargantuan hulks. Realising the futility of his efforts, he stopped the struggle but reached down and grabbed at Bruno’s groin. He found his target and squeezed hard. Joe squeezed like his life depended on it. And he guessed it probably did. If they were going to take him, he would at least make sure they remembered him. Bruno let out a satisfying yelp that quickly turned to an agonized scream as Joe held on tight. Bruno dropped Joe. As his shoulders hit the floor, Karl momentarily lost his hold and Joe stabbed out hard with his foot. Karl’s head jerked back as the foot made solid contact and he lost his grip on Joe completely. This time, as Joe scrambled to his feet he headed for the door at the back of the room. Braun wasn’t in his way this time. Either Braun wasn’t quick enough or he erred on the side of caution. Joe burst through the door into a short corridor. There were three doors to the right and one door on the left. No time to check them all. Joe went for the door on the left. It was unlocked and led to a large garage, wide enough to take two cars but empty. A whole array of garden tools hung on the far wall of the garage. Joe looked for anythin
g that might he might use as a weapon. He leapt across the garage and grabbed a garden rake but his main aim was to escape. He didn’t fancy his chances against Bruno whether he had a weapon or not. He ran to the door at the front of the garage. The up and over door looked like it operated electronically. Joe was looking for a control switch when he heard Bruno skid into the hallway he had just left. Bruno entered the garage crouching slightly and breathing hard. He was obviously still hurting from Joe’s rough handling. Karl followed Bruno into the garage. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Joe knew that he would be on the receiving end of some seriously rough treatment if they overpowered him. He looked round again and saw a black button on a box. It seemed like his last hope as he lunged towards it. Joe hit the button and the garage door started to rise slowly. Behind him, Bruno snarled and launched himself across the garage. Joe turned, lunged forward and swung the rake towards Bruno’s face. Bruno reared away and backed off slightly. Karl closed in and stood alongside Bruno as they considered their next move. Cold air blew snowflakes into the garage as the garage door opened fully. Joe backed away, still holding the rake in front of him. He was a couple of feet outside the garage when it occurred to him that he would be at a disadvantage once they were all outside. Karl could circle behind him while he was trying to keep Bruno at bay. He lunged forward again stabbing the rake towards first Bruno and then Karl. They flinched and stepped back, taken by surprise by the sudden offensive gesture. In that split second Joe hit the control button and the garage door started to close. He stepped back outside and crouched, jabbing the rake towards them as the door slowly lowered. Just as he had almost lost sight of them, the door stopped. Joe guessed that Bruno had hit the control button. The door started to rise slowly. Joe threw the rake to the ground, turned and started to run. He cut across several feet of soft snow and reached the drive that led to the road. The front door of the house opened, throwing light up the drive. He heard Braun shout something in German but he was running now. Gulping freezing air into his fragile lungs. He slipped and fell but he was on his feet immediately and running. He heard a shot from a gun but just kept running. The deep snow made progress difficult but he struggled on. His running action was more of a high-stepped trudge. It was hard going and he knew he couldn’t keep it up for long. Another shot rang out. He didn’t know where the bullet went but he was glad he didn’t feel anything. His legs grew heavier. His seared lungs struggled to cope with the cold and his arms flailed the air as he battled his way through the snow. Several times, he nearly fell but managed to recover. He could hear heavy footsteps behind him but didn’t look back. The footsteps sounded closer and were accompanied by heavy breathing.
Somebody was closing in. The end of the drive was maybe thirty yards ahead and he told himself he was going to make it even though his legs felt like lead and his lungs were on fire. Somebody grabbed a handful of his raincoat. He stumbled to his knees but shrugged his arms out of the coat and staggered upright. He tottered forward, looking back to see Karl on his knees in the snow clutching the raincoat. Bruno passed Karl as he got to his feet. Bruno’s eyes were fixed on Joe. He had but one thought and Joe didn’t need to be told what it was. Bruno was running with an ungainly gait, probably still hurting, but he looked a lot stronger than Joe felt. Joe looked forward again and ran.
Twenty yards to the road. Joe knew the road might not mean salvation but there might just be a passing car or he might get to another house and bang on the door. Bruno’s footsteps were getting closer. Joe drove himself on even though his body was almost giving up the fight. His lungs weren’t functioning properly. He was feeling heavy legged and light headed.
Ten yards to go. Joe didn’t know what Braun had got planned but he was pretty sure he was going to die if they caught him. That was all that kept his tired legs pumping. Suddenly, the headlights of a car light up the road ahead of him. A car was on the road and would pass by the end of the drive in a few seconds.
Five yards to go. Just five yards. He almost laughed with relief. He was going to make it. He was going to make it. Wrong! Bruno crashed heavily into him and he tumbled forward, coming to rest face down on the drive just two yards from the road. The thick snow cushioned his fall. He raised his head and shouted as the car passed the end of the drive. ‘Help me!’ His frenetic scream, borne out of fear and desperation, ripped through the cold night air.
Joe never knew if the car driver reacted or slowed down. Bruno landed hard on top of him driving every last ounce of breath out of his body. Bruno then straddled him and pushed his face down into the deep snow, holding it there for long moments.
Joe, already faint and weak from his efforts, felt himself slipping away. He offered no resistance. He had none to offer. He made no attempt to struggle free. He just waited for the darkness to envelop him. What the hell? If he didn’t die now, he would die soon enough. Even as he faded from consciousness, Joe heard Braun calling breathlessly as he reached the fallen duo. ‘Bruno, let him breath. We don’t want him to die this way.’ Bruno rolled Joe over and drew his fist back to deliver a blow as he lay coughing and spitting snow.
‘Bruno,’ called Braun again. ‘No visible marks.’ Bruno restrained himself with a great effort and lowered his fist. Joe guessed that was just a stay of execution. No doubt something pretty unpleasant awaited him back at the house. Bruno and Karl grabbed an arm each and pulled him roughly back up the drive to the house.
Joe’s tried to resist his captors by digging his heels into the deep snow. It was a futile, forlorn effort that they hardly seemed to notice. As he blinked, trying to clear snow from his eyes, he thought he saw a movement at an upstairs window of the house. He blinked again and saw nothing.
They dragged him back into the garage and dropped him clumsily onto the concrete floor. Despite the heavy fall, Joe felt nothing. His body and senses were numbed by extreme exhaustion and intense cold.
‘Close the door,’ Braun ordered. Karl stepped forward and pressed the control button. The garage door slowly came down as Joe lay on the floor looking outside, as the peaceful snow scene, and his last hope of freedom, disappearing in front of him.
His three captors stood looking down at him. They were all breathing heavily after their unexpected exertions.
‘I’m disappointed in you Mister Box. You have greatly abused my hospitality,’ said Braun. ‘I dislike such uncouth behaviour. I think you could have behaved with a little more dignity. What happened to your British stiff upper lip? I am almost tempted to let Bruno have his way with you right here and now.’ Joe couldn’t speak. His breath rasped painfully in his lungs as he looked up at Braun, waiting for his next move. ‘I must say you put up more of a struggle than any of your predecessors,’ Braun continued. ‘I’m not sure if that shows that you are a brave man or a coward. Either way, it does not really matter. I hope your untidy little outburst hasn’t disturbed any of our neighbours. I suspect not. They tend to keep to themselves.’ Braun looked at Bruno. ‘Bring him back inside,’ he ordered.
Bruno looked a little disappointed but pulled Joe to his feet with a fistful of his jacket. Then as he swayed unsteadily, Bruno delivered a vicious blow to his middle that floored him again.
‘Bruno!’ Braun snapped angrily.
Joe gagged for air and he lay doubled up. He couldn’t think why Braun sounded so anxious about his welfare. Bruno dragged him to his feet one more time and frog-marched him back into the house and to the wooden chair by the table. Bruno and Karl forced Joe’s arms back into his raincoat, pulled it over his shoulders then threw him onto the chair. This time Joe made no attempt to escape. This time he was spent. Finished. He knew it. They knew it. As he keeled forward in the chair, Karl pushed him back, wrapped one of the heavy straps around his chest and pulled it tight, pinning him against the back of the chair.
Once he was restrained, Bruno signalled for Karl to wait while he went through Joe’s pockets. He pulled out his wallet and passport and threw them onto the table. He took out the card that Benny Travers ha
d given to him at the airport and dropped it on the table as well. Braun moved forward and picked up Joe’s wallet. He browsed quickly through it, pausing to pull out the Euros, which he handed to Bruno. Bruno smiled at Joe as he pocketed the money. Braun nodded to Bruno and he returned Joe’s wallet to his pocket. Joe’s passport and Benny’s card remained on the table.
Joe was slowly recovering from Bruno’s coup de grace in the garage that had put an end to any further resistance. Even so, his head was spinning, his lungs were raw and every bone and muscle in his body ached. He guessed that little more than five minutes had passed since the mood of the evening had changed so dramatically. He watched in complete bewilderment as more straps were used to attach his arms and legs to the chair. ‘What is this all about?’ he finally asked as Bruno and Karl stepped away from him. He was trussed up, unable to move anything except his head. He had the ridiculous thought that it was lucky he had already visited the toilet. That seemed like the least of his problems right then.
‘Now we can get down to the real business of the evening,’ said Braun as he topped up his coffee from the coffee pot that had survived Joe’s rampage across the table.
Joe didn’t respond. He strained hard at the straps but it was obvious he would stay put as long as Braun wanted. Braun’s face darkened as he surveyed the wreckage of spilt drinks and broken crockery on the floor surrounding the table.
‘Such terrible waste,’ he muttered quietly as he picked up a broken plate. He dropped the plate and looked at Joe. ‘Do you really think I wanted to spend an evening in your company,’ he asked. ‘To have you drink my wine and eat my food? To waste even one moment of my time listening to your inconsequential prattle?’