Killer Girls

by Martin Barkawitz

  On the other hand, he had brought her to America.

  And without what had happened in the last few days, she would never have been here in Antwerp, at Lucia’s side. During their first meeting, she could never even have imagined she would feel a sympathy for the cold-blooded killer girl.

  Now it seemed as if they even might become friends.

  Or had it already happened?

  Those were the thoughts that filled Kea’s mind while she slowly walked towards the park before her. On the other bank of the Schelde, the nightlife seemed in full swing. But around Park Noordkasteel it was as quiet as in a cemetery.

  Sure, from the quaysides, metallic noises drifted across the water. And the sounds of ship‘s sirens reminded Kea of the calls of unknown, gigantic creatures of the sea. But the rumble of lorries, the clatter of goods trains and of factories on night work were too distant to intrude into her concentration.

  She tried to assess her immediate surroundings. She had offered to take over the most dangerous part of the meeting with the kidnappers.

  She realized, she had put her life into the hands of the killer girl, whom she barely understood. Could any action be greater proof of their friendship?

  There was no sign of Lucia and that was reassuring. If Kea could not locate her, the hope remained that neither would their mutual enemies.

  Kea walked slowly through the park.

  In the center of Antwerp, at other places, she had seen many homeless people. They had to find shelter somewhere during the night. But it seemed, none of them strayed to Park Noordkasteel. Or was it possible, that these homeless souls managed to hide their presence from the police or the aggressive youths that roamed at night, looking for any excitement they could find? Like beating up homeless people?

  In Kea’s eyes the poor were soldiers of misery. To live meant to remain unseen. And this night, the same rule applied to Lucia.

  She could only hope that her friend held her nerve. Lucia really loved the child with every thought and feeling. That alone was the great danger, for she could easily flip or make a mistake, a mistake that not only threatened Adrian’s life but also Kea’s and Lucia’s own.

  She took a deep breath.

  It was too late to doubt Lucia’s actions. She should have thought the whole thing through before becoming involved, And although Mario’s sister had threatened her with death and torture, Kea now trusted her more than any other person in the world.

  Just as well. Right at this moment she had no other choice.

  She looked at the digital display of her phone. Still four minutes to midnight.

  She suppressed the desire to ring Lucia. That could easily turn out to be a deadly mistake. If her friend should answer, she gave away her position. And neither Kea nor Lucia could know how many enemies waited for them.

  But the kidnappers also had no idea that there were two of them. If they lost that advantage through a wrong move, they would lose everything, And would pay for their mistake with their lives. Kea did not doubt that for one second.

  The full moon over the near Schelde was veiled by a thin mist.

  She could smell the moist soil that surrounded her, for there had been a brief shower a short while ago. But the clouds had drifted away and now the moonlight brightened the grassy banks around her. Yet beyond the light of the lamps the darkness still loomed.

  As Lucia had predicted.

  Once on the light-flooded bridge, Kea would offer an excellent target.

  Still two more minutes.

  The closer to the bridge, the greater her doubts became that the kidnappers would keep their words. And there was nothing the two women could do if they were to be cheated of their success.

  What kept the kidnappers from simply disappearing without handing the child over?

  After all, Gordon had already paid.

  And in the end, it mattered little to lose a reputation. You needed nothing more than new identities to continue with your dirty work.

  Kea stepped on the wooden planks of the bridge. Her footsteps sounded unnaturally loud. But it was nothing more than the echo being thrown back by the water.

  She halted in the middle of the bridge. Her hands that grasped the rails were white above the knuckles from the tension.

  Kea was disappointed, angry and frustrated, but most of all – afraid.

  Right now, she wanted to shoot someone. She had a loaded pistol in her handbag. But there was no one in sight.

  Kea had never fired a gun, let alone at a human being. But she was sure of that ability. Lucia had taught her.

  She flinched as she heard boards squeak.

  It was exactly midnight.

  From the eastern side of the bridge, a figure moved slowly towards her. Since she had not altered her position, she turned her head into the direction of the sound. The figure was that of a woman. She was young – in her early twenties – straw- like blond hair, dark rings under her eyes that glanced around nervously. Her figure was rendered indistinct by an army parka that was several sizes too big for her. Below it the hem of a miniskirt showed, tights with ladders and trekking boots.

  All these details were unimportant to Kea. Her greatest interest was directed at the cradle that was strapped across the woman’s chest, carrying an unseen baby.

  Kea’s heart began to beat in double time.

  She had been uncertain what might have awaited her. Could it be that the kidnappers were not half as bad as she had expected? At least they kept their promise to deliver Adrian on time.

  Always assuming that this child was really Adrian.

  After all, Kea had never seen the child. There was little enough to be seen of the mite, just a woolly hat and a jacket. He probably slept because she heard no sound that might have come from him.

  Kea decided not to act as if she was fully convinced this was a baby and the right one. She stuck her hand in her bag and grasped the pistol. Then she walked towards the woman.

  ‘Is this Adrian?’ She asked in English. A moment later she realized how stupid she sounded. What baby was it supposed to be? The unknown woman was certainly not a young mother, who had suddenly felt the need for a midnight walk, taking her child along.

  She received no answer.

  As she closed in on the woman, she noticed her forehead glittered with pearls of perspiration. Her eyelids fluttered constantly, the lower lip of the half-open mouth trembled.

  Had she understood Kea at all?

  From her appearance, she could originate from central or eastern Europe.

  Was she afraid of Kea?

  Or had she taken drugs to give her courage? Was she a junky?

  That alone would be a good reason to relieve her of the baby as quickly as possible.

  Kea loosened the grip around her weapon and reached out to the stranger with wide-spread arms and open hands. It was a gesture that was understood everywhere in the world.

  The unknown woman looked at Kea in a strange, unfathomable way. Was she in a trance? Or ready to collaborate in the next moment?

  Now, she unstrapped the cradle with the baby and handed it to Kea. When their hands met for a brief moment, Kea realized that the other one’s fingers were icy cold.

  Kea looked down at Adrian. He was a sweet child, in deep and heavy sleep. His chest lifted in regular rhythm. She was suddenly overwhelmed by motherly feelings and quickly fastened the cradle around her own body.

  Then she looked at the woman again.

  And suddenly she understood why the stranger was so distraught.

  She feared for her life!

  Under the gaping parka, a belt of explosives was fastened around her body.

  38

  Lucia was nowhere to be seen.

  She had prepared as well as she could for her night mission. Under the black Neoprene suit she wore thermal underwear. It allowed her to spend hours on cold, wet ground without freezing.

  Of her face, only her eyes showed since she had donned a black baclava. Her hands were covered
by thin leather gloves. She had reached the park at ten that evening. Of course, she had refrained from using any of the paths and had given every light source a wide berth. Instead, she had climbed a fence and used only dark approaches.

  After long considerations, she selected a position on the edge of a small thicket. From there she could not only watch the bridge but also the bushes around her. Unfortunately, there had been no time to obtain night goggles. That hardly mattered to Lucia. More important were the two throwing knives she had discovered in an obscure little shop that offered souvenirs from all quarters of the world. The owner bought his goods apparently from sailors that supplied him with Asian curiosities, shrunken heads from Papua-New Guinea, steel and iron goods from Toledo.

  With the two knives and her pistol, Lucia felt well-armed.

  In her opinion, danger lurked not on the bridge itself but everywhere within range of a gun. If a sniper with a modern rifle and good sights had orders to kill Kea, even from a considerable distance, she would be in constant danger.

  But to fire such a shot at night and from a distance required a first-class marksman. Such people had better opportunities for their skills than detested kidnapper-gangs that needed them for their dirty work.

  No, Lucia expected that any attack would come from a short distance.

  She imagined, the bastards would mow Kea down as soon as she stood on the bridge. When she would appear defenseless.

  Lucia was determined to spoil their broth.

  Without a night sight, she had to depend entirely on her own senses. Mainly her hearing.

  Her patience was not as overworked as she had feared. Barely half an hour after she had found her almost ideal position, something stirred.

  She heard a rustling, someone stepped on a dry twig, words were whispered. She grinned wolfishly. If the enemy did not talk to himself, she had to count on at least two opponents. That number hardly troubled her.

  The idiots had no idea that a human killing machine lay in wait for them.

  Lucia judged her distances.

  One man took up his position to the left of her. If her guess was right, he cowered behind a bush, not more than a stone’s throw from her.

  And the other one?

  He had disappeared northwards. Not too far, if he wanted to cover the bridge from his hiding place.

  One after another, Lucia told herself. She clamped one of her knives between her teeth and crept soundlessly towards the first enemy.

  Once she reached the undergrowth, her approach became more difficult. To surprise the sniper, she had to move without a sound to avoid warning him.

  The smell of an expensive aftershave hung in the air.

  She gave a smile. Bloody Amateur!, Lucia thought. She herself had showered thoroughly at the Hotel Diana and washed herself with unperfumed soap to hide any body odors, not even shower gel.

  ‘Guy?’ A male voice inquired softly.

  Lucia tightened her lips. Obviously, she had not been as silent as she had believed. But it was too late to wrestle with regrets. Instead of answering, she attacked by gliding forward.

  She had been right in guessing his location. The man was stretched out on the floor, not more than an arm’s length from her. She held the knife in her right hand, while her gloved hand found his mouth. He twisted around, fought for air through his nostrils.

  Lucia rammed the knife up to the hilt into his upper body. The man used his last strength to throw her off. He almost succeeded. Almost but not quite. Lucia struck a second time. Now he fought for his life with his last strength, tried to reach for his own gun and call for help.

  Before he could alarm his friend, Lucia buried the knife in his throat. She felt his resistance weaken.

  Killing with a knife was a bloody affair, unlike a clean shot from a distance. Lucia sweated and breathed hard, as again and again she used the knife until, finally, there was no movement from under her hands.

  Lucia’s hand ached from the pressure it had exerted on the knife handle. Now, that all resistance had ceased, she felt as if awakening from a drunken night.

  It was a feeling she knew only too well.

  After all, she had killed often enough.

  She stretched herself out beside the dead man and waited until her racing pulse returned halfway to normality.

  Had the struggle been too loud?

  Had she unwittingly warned the second enemy?

  It was unlikely, but still possible. She had to deal with the second kidnapper before he became suspicious.

  While she started to move into the direction of the second opponent, she glanced at her wristwatch.

  Only a few more minutes to midnight.

  The time was running out too quick. Kea was reliable. She would be at the bridge at the agreed time.

  If Lucia wanted to stop the second sniper, she had to hurry. She ran across the lawn, keeping on the balls of her feet to make as little noise as possible.

  She still held the bloody knife in her hand.

  And suddenly she felt a blinding pain in her head.

  She fell like a log, realizing she had underestimated her enemy. Maybe the death of his partner had made more noise than she had believed.

  Her fingers grew weak. The weapon dropped from her hand.

  The man struck her face with a fist. Lucia bit her lip, tasted her own blood. She collapsed.

  ‘Don’t pass out!’ She told herself. But her enemy must have thought her unconscious. He turned and lifted his arm. Through the red mist in her eyes, Lucia saw two people on the bridge. One of them handed the other a bundle.

  Adrian!

  Her heart missed a beat. She thought the bastard was going to shoot her friend. A mistake, she realized only a moment later. He held not a gun but a remote control. Luckily, the kidnapper had not searched her for a gun. Lightning fast she pulled her pistol.

  She shot the bastard before he could blow the explosives to high heaven.

  39

  Adrian started to cry.

  The baby must have become as afraid as Kea by the loud bang that split the still of the night.

  The blonde woman with the explosive pack began to cry hysterically and to beat about herself.

  Kea tried desperately to stop her from hitting the child. To that end, she pulled out her pistol and struck her down with its butt. Too late she realized that she might possibly have caused the belt to explode. Luckily, it did not happen.

  Kea ran from the bridge. The baby was still in danger in that well-lit spot.

  Luckily, Lucia arrived at the scene at this moment. Kea felt an almost overpowering shock when she saw her friend. Lucia was covered in blood from head to foot. It was hardly possible to make out the terror in her face.

  ‘The blood isn’t mine but the kidnapper’s.’ Lucia calmed her. Then her voice changed to a soft tone: ‘Oh, my little treasure. Did you miss your Lucia?’

  Her blood-splattered hand gently stroked the baby’s head. Lucia smiled happily.

  ‘There are more of them coming.’ Kea warned as she raised her pistol. In the pale moonlight two shadowy outlines became visible which hurried towards the two women and the baby.

  Shots rang through the darkness.

  Lucia returned fire and Kea followed her example. She simply pointed the weapon in the direction of their assailants and pressed the trigger. The first shot sent her staggering back but on the second she was better prepared. She stood, her legs apart, as if screwed to the bridge.

  ‘We’ve got to disappear before they hit Adrian!’ Lucia called out. The child now cried continuously. In all likelihood, the deafening noise of the shots had frightened it terribly. Kea did not know if she had hit anyone. The two unknown men were on the lawn as the muzzle fire confirmed. Lucia returned the compliments with a few quick shots.

  It was answered by a lout cry of pain. Some called out a few words in Dutch, the voice sounding troubled.

  ‘Okay. It sounds like I’ve done for one of the bastards,’ Lucia said hopefully.
‘I guess his friend is holding his hand. Or he’s simply too scared to take the two of us on alone. Let’s leave this idyllic place in a hurry.’

  The two women ran towards the park gates while Lucia pressed the baby against her chest and even managed to hum softly. Kea stopped several times briefly to look back. She could see no one following them, but she could not rely on her senses. As long as a man refused to reveal himself by a shot, he remained invisible in the darkness beyond the lights.

  Lucia had parked the hired car at the Oosterweelsteenweg, a broad street lined with shops.

  ‘You drive!’ She ordered Kea. ‘I’ll see to Adrian.’

  She slipped into the passenger seat and carefully fastened her seat-belt. Slowly, the baby quietened. Was it just her familiar presence? Or had the excitement of the last minutes simply tired him out?

  Kea started the engine and drove off. After a few crossings, she fed the address into the sat nav.

  ‘Adrian is looking well.’ Lucia murmured and stroked the baby’s head again. ‘Of course those rotten pigs wanted to keep him looking at his best for their dirty business.’

  Kea reported about the suicide belt the blonde had worn.

  Lucia frowned.

  ‘That means that bastard intended to blow you, the other woman and the baby up on the bridge. What sick minds! They deserve everything that has come or is coming to them.’

  ‘Why do people do rotten things like that? After all, Gordon paid the ransom, didn’t he?’

  ‘Of course. And don’t ask me why or how such things happen. Perhaps they get a kick out of their double dealings. I have no idea --- why are you suddenly putting your foot down?’

  ‘I think we are being followed.’ Kea answered and cast another look in the rear-view mirror. The BMW behind them had also increased its speed.

  Kea pressed the pedal down even harder and turned into the Noorderlaan, a broad avenue-like street. Despite the early hour of a still dark day, several trucks rumbled along it. The Porsche Cayenne’s tires lost grip and the car skidded, but she managed to regain control again.