Lights showed in a few of the motel rooms but number Twenty-one was in darkness. Lauren pushed at the door. It wasn’t locked but opened only a crack before something jammed it. Giving it a hefty shove, she managed to open it a bit more. Whatever was blocking it slid across the floor a foot or so then got snarled up.
Lauren stuck her head through the gap and, in the light from the walkway, saw it was her fleece that had somehow got caught under the door. Squatting, she reached through the opening, grabbed a sleeve and tugged at it. As she yanked the jacket free, something fell from it and hit the floor with a metallic thunk.
Puzzled, Lauren pushed the door wider. Had there been something in her pocket that had fallen out? She didn’t remember carrying anything heavy. She saw the outline of a longish object behind the door and reached down to pick it up. It was unpleasantly sticky and she hit the light switch to see what it was. Disgust brought bile to her throat and she dropped the thing with a yelp. It was a knife. A knife covered in blood.
‘Wolf,’ she called hoarsely, doubled over. ‘Wolf.’
He detached himself from the door of the van and sprinted across. Lauren propped herself against the wall. Her fleece dangled from one hand and she stared at the other, which she held out palm up in front of her.
‘What is it?’ said Wolf. ‘What’s wrong?’
She raised her head, her face slack with shock. ‘Blood. All over my hand.’
‘Blood? Have you cut yourself?’ Wolf pushed the door wide. ‘You should have waited for me. Come on. Sit down a minute.’
Pushing her fleece at him, she shot across the room.
‘Oh God, I think I’m going to puke.’ She made a dash for the bathroom and leaned over the hand-basin. Her fingers left imprints where she gripped the sink. Both hands were bloodied. How in hell...? She stared at her palms then thrust them under the tap letting the icy water rush over them.
Wolf came into the tiny room behind her. ‘Now I’m covered in blood, too,’ he said. ‘Your jacket’s soaked with it.’
Lauren turned to him, cold with horror. Behind her the water gushed and gurgled down the sink.
‘What?’ she said, confused by his manner. He sounded as though he was blaming her. As she gathered breath to object, something caught the corner of her eye. Something sticking out of the shower cubicle.
Slowly, she dragged her eyes away from Wolf and looked at it. He turned towards it too. At the same moment, they both recoiled. It was a foot. A foot attached to a leg, and beyond the leg Lauren could see the crumpled body of a woman. A small woman.
Forty-five
Transfixed, Lauren stepped closer to look at the woman’s face.
It was the cleaner. And she was dead.
Blood stained the shower tray. The showerhead leaked in a constant slow drip. Lauren closed her eyes and clutched the sink. Her cold hands trembled against the chipped porcelain. A wave of queasiness rolled from her guts to her head, and she thought she would black out.
After a moment, she forced herself to look again at the body. The woman lay face up. A red gash smiled under her chin like an extra mouth. Jesus. Her eyes were open. She had a look of mild surprise on her face.
‘Oh God, Wolf. Oh God.’
Wolf tossed the bloody fleece aside, rinsed his hands and turned the tap off. He grabbed a thin towel and roughly dried his hands, then as an afterthought, wiped it over the taps and basin. All the time his eyes never left the woman, as though he was hypnotised by her. He put an arm around Lauren’s shoulder.
‘Jesus, Wolf. Why?’
He shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the thing in the shower. The showerhead leaked steadily. Drip drip drip.
‘What’s going on?’ Lauren whispered. ‘What have we got involved in?’
‘I don’t know.’ He kept his voice low too, as though the woman was sleeping and he didn’t want to wake her. ‘But I hope to God Katti’s okay.’
‘We’ve got to go to the police now.’ Lauren’s throat felt tight. ‘We have no option.’
Wolf dragged his eyes away from the cleaner.
‘No. We can’t. Think about it, Lauren. Those men must be trying to frame you. To put you out of action. They must have come back here after you ran into the forest.’ His eyes were serious, his voice cracked. ‘You picked up that knife. Your fingerprints are on it. Fibres from your jacket. You’ll be arrested. For murder.’
‘But what possible reason could I have for killing that... that poor little woman?’ Lauren’s voice broke. Tears welled in her eyes. She stumbled out of the bathroom and slumped on the bed. The sobs built up in her and finally she gave way to them.
‘Motive won’t matter to the police. Not at this stage. They’ll hold you in custody while they investigate. It’ll mean lawyers and hassle... at least let’s wait until we know Katti’s safe. Then we can tell them the whole story.’
‘Gunther booked in here under a false name,’ Lauren said. ‘Surely he couldn’t have –’
‘There’s something I’ve been wondering,’ Wolf said. ‘How did those thugs know where to find you this morning? This Gunther person is the only one who knew you were here.’
Lauren wiped her tears away and sat up.
‘I’ve got to get out of here. I think I’m going to be sick again.’ She knew her voice had a touch of hysteria in it and she made an effort to calm herself. ‘Let’s do what we planned, Wolf. Go to the holiday chalet. I’m dead on my feet. I need some sleep before I can get my head around this. Before I can think of talking to the police. That poor poor woman.’
Wolf cast a last look around the room. ‘Got everything?’
‘My rings. They’re in the bathroom.’ Lauren took a deep breath and forced herself to go back into the tiny room. Keeping her eyes averted, she scooped up her jewellery and slipped on the rings, making a wish each time. Please let Katti be safe.
‘There’s my jacket as well.’ She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘But it’s no damn use to me now.’
‘We’d better take it with us, though. Get rid of it.’
Shivering with a violence she could not control, Lauren stared at her fleece which still lay on the bathroom floor. She didn’t want to touch it again. She looked at Wolf, then back at the fleece, then back at Wolf. After a moment he grunted, stepped across the threshold, and reached down to pick it up by his finger tips.
~
‘Poor woman. Poor poor little woman.’ Lauren hugged herself, leaning towards the dashboard as though nursing a pain in the gut. The full horror was only now beginning to sink in. ‘This had nothing to do with her. Nothing.’
‘It had nothing to do with you either.’ Wolf said grimly, starting the van.
‘Well it has now. It fucking well has now. Those bastards. I’ll see them all in hell.’ Lauren rocked herself gently, thinking of Gunther, his noble good looks, his blue eyes. He must be Mr Big after all. She’d let herself be blinded by a handsome face, a confident manner. What a fool she was. What a stupid stupid fool.
‘Why didn’t he kill me?’ she said. ‘Why involve that poor woman?’
Wolf rubbed a hand over his face. ‘She was an immigrant worker no doubt. Probably an illegal immigrant. Easier to get away with her murder I suppose. There would be too many questions asked if it was you.’
‘But the gunman came for me not her. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘None of it makes sense, Lauren. And these people seem to have two factions, working at cross purposes.’
Lauren slid her eyes across to Wolf and stared at the side of his face. At least she could trust him.
‘Maybe we could burn that thing somewhere?’ she said, glancing over her shoulder to where her fleece lay crumpled in a plastic bag in the back of the van. ‘Or will destroying the evidence only make me seem more guilty?’ A thought struck her. ‘Jesus, the knife! We left the knife.’ Her shoulders drooped as the energy drained out of her. Too bad. She wasn’t going anywhere near that room again.
Forty
-six
‘Well, you two clowns made a complete mess of the assignment you were given, didn’t you?’ Viktor tossed the old Luger from palm to palm and a sneer curled his lip. ‘Picking up the English female instead of Hartmann’s daughter. Then letting her get away.’
Zef pressed back against the wall, his skinny frame trembling. ‘Y-you let her get away as well, Vik.’ He licked his lips, his narrow face wary.
‘Don’t answer me back if you know what’s good for you.’ Viktor pushed the Luger up under Zef’s chin.
Zef flinched; his Adam’s apple leapt in his scrawny throat.
‘But you are right. The little bitch escaped my attentions as well.’ The pistol jabbed at Zef’s throat. ‘But only because she had help.’
‘Sorry, sorry Vik.’
Viktor turned to Jak. ‘And what have you got to say for yourself? This is all your fault, you ugly bastard.’ He pointed the pistol at Jak’s crotch. ‘Keep it zipped in future or you won’t have anything left to zip.’
Jak muttered something unintelligible, his heavy brows and thick lips bunched in apparent contrition.
‘Third time lucky, boys. Third time lucky.’ Viktor smiled. ‘Because if you are not lucky this time, then you will be very unlucky. I hope you take my meaning.’
‘So what do you want us to do next, Vik?’ Zef’s voice was a croak.
‘You bring the English bitch to me, of course,’ Viktor stepped back. ‘We’ll deal with her first.’
‘Do you know where she is?’
Viktor tilted the Luger from side to side. ‘Oh, I know exactly where she is. All you have to do is bring her back to me. And when you do... Bang!’
‘Please... please don’t wave that thing around, Vik.’
Viktor turned the Luger on Zef again. ‘Things aren’t quite going to plan, Zef my boy. There are two targets now – the Hartmann woman and this English bitch.’ He swung the gun from Zef to Jak. ‘And maybe I’ll get even more target practice before this is over.’
‘We’ll get her this time,Vik. She won’t get away again.’
‘And where’s Zamir, eh? I haven’t seen him for days.’ Viktor raised his eyebrows. ‘Where’s pretty boy?’
‘I haven’t seen him either. You?’ Zef looked at Jak, who grunted and shook his head.
‘Odd how he went missing at the same time as Hartmann’s daughter. Don’t you think?’
‘You think they’re together?’
‘It’s a possibility. Zamir has a weakness for females. And they have a weakness for him, God knows why.’ Viktor threw the pistol down. ‘Good looks but no brain.’ He tapped his forehead with a finger. ‘Oh he can charm them, he’s clever that way. But there’s something wrong with him. I blame his mother. He was too much her golden boy.’
Forty-seven
The bed was as warm and soft as Wolf had promised. Lauren lay back luxuriating in the comfort of the feather duvet and big square pillows. The starched sheets, white and icy as the snow outside when she first slid into the double bed, were thawing out now. A hot water bottle toasted her toes and another cuddled alongside her. Steam rose from a huge mug of hot chocolate that sat on the bedside table next to a bottle of Brandwein.
They’d grabbed a scratch meal while the water heated up for her bath – soup and Matzos from packets in the cupboard – then Lauren soaked in the bubbles until she was drowsy. The warm water soothed away some of the tension of the last few hours.
She’d borrowed a stiff white cotton nightie belonging to Clara’s elderly mother and an angora bed-jacket. All she needed was a mob-cap and she’d look like the Granny in Little Red Riding Hood. Do I care? she asked herself. No. She had more to worry about than her appearance.
Lauren silently toasted Clara for leaving the Brandwein behind. After a few slugs of the German brandy, she’d begun to relax. She was doing her best not to think about the predicament she’d got herself into over the knife. The brandy was doing its best to help.
Clara’s holiday home was by the Ammersee, a lake not far from Munich. The Alps were a ghostly gleam to the south. The chalet itself was charming, if somewhat kitsch. A steeply sloping roof carried the weight of the snow with ease, the wooden shutters had heart-shaped holes cut in them, and the yellow render made the whole thing look like a picture on a tin of Lebkuchen. All it needed was a red bow on the top. And maybe Elvis singing Wooden Heart.
Wolf stood at the end of the bed. She patted the quilt to encourage him to sit beside her and he did so.
‘Anything else you need?’ He picked at the quilt, avoiding her eyes.
Lauren smiled. ‘Not a thing. I’m fine now. As much as I can be, considering.’ She let her gaze rest on him for a moment. He was staring at the floor, his knee juddering restlessly.
‘You okay?’ She reached out to him.
He glanced at her sideways from under his lashes then took her offered hand and cradled it in both of his own. ‘Same as you,’ he said. ‘As well as I can be under the circumstances.’
His hands were warm and dry as he chafed and comforted her. He closed his eyes and she watched him for a moment. Tugging his hand slightly, she drew him towards her.
‘Wolfi,’ she whispered, daring now to use his pet name. ‘Wolfi.’
His eyes shot open, a dark liquid brown. His black lashes flickered. He leaned towards her and kissed her forehead, sending shivers to her loins..
‘Lauren,’ he said,. ‘you should sleep now. Rest. Get your strength back. Try not to worry about anything for tonight. We will work out what to do in the morning.’
‘Please hold me,’ she said, her voice low with emotion. ‘I need some comfort here. It’s been such a bloody awful day.’ She cringed at her all too appropriate words. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to say that.’
Wolf wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, shushing her gently. ‘Everything will be fine. You’ll see. We will sort it all out tomorrow, when we’ve both had a good night’s sleep.’
‘Get in beside me? I need your warmth. I’m so cold.’
He flashed her a little smile. ‘Lauren. You have two hot water bottles in there with you. You don’t need me as well.’
‘The bottles can’t hold me and I need so much to be held. Shit!’ She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened. ‘I know I’m being a wimp but after all that’s happened...’ She drew back a corner of the duvet. ‘Please, Wolf. Just as a friend. Just to hold me. Nothing more. Unless...?’
He pulled his thick jumper over his head, dropped it to the floor and climbed in beside her. ‘Just as a friend then.’
Lauren turned into the comfort of his arms, that old familiar longing coursing through her. The heat of his body, the tang of his musk, the soft pulse of his heart beating beneath the cotton teeshirt made her want to pull him over her. To feel the weight of him again, to slide her hands beneath his clothes, to touch his his skin...
‘I’ll stay for a little while,’ he said. ‘Then I must call my mother again, and... and Ingrid.’
Forty-eight
It was Viktor’s fault, Kristo thought, caressing the bump on his forehead. Viktor and that bitch he was married to. Lucky he hadn’t put his eye out.
He sat in front of his computer, sipping at a Budweiser, waiting for the page to download. She always had to go one step further, that bitch; encouraging Viktor, pushing him into ever more dangerous dealings.
He clicked on the thumbnail image that interested him. They had a good thing going. Everything set up and working well. No hassles. Why did she have to go and complicate things?
The image opened on the screen and Kristo studied it, turning his head to view it from different angles. It was a bit blurred but that was because of the swelling around his eye. He strained to focus.
They’d struggled to get where they were now. Took plenty of years and plenty of fighting but they’d made it in the end. Nobody bothered them now – not any longer. Had their own territory, all cut and dried and paid for by sweat and blood – his swe
at and blood mainly.
He downloaded the image to his PC. Quite like that one, he thought. Bit too young but the position’s unusual. Like to string that bitch up like that. Hold her upside down with her legs open and her cunt in full view. He chuckled to himself, wincing at the pain that flickered through his jaw. Bitch. Her fault they were in this mess. She had to want more, hadn’t she? Fuckin women.
And Viktor was stupid enough to agree to it. Kristo took a slug of Bud. Bebe this and Bebe that. Thought he was in charge of her. That was a laugh. She had Vik right where she wanted him. Well, it wouldn’t work. He’d told them that. The bitch was mad – any fool could see that. Obsessed. Crazy. Fuckin nuts. And she’d turned Vik nuts as well, as if he wasn’t crazy enough anyway, without her help.
Kristo took another swig of Bud and belched. Too fond of flashing the hardware, was Viktor, him and his fuckin Luger. Thought everything could be solved by a bullet. Okay, yeah, some things could only be solved that way. Some things had had to be solved that way, and sure, Viktor had always done it cleanly, done it well. But there were subtler ways of dealing with things. Ways that left no evidence.
Am I the only one in this family who isn’t a basket case? he asked himself. Zamir was hopeless – nothing but a dreamer. A fantasist. And now it looked like Vik was going the same way.
He rubbed his brow tenderly and clicked on another thumbnail. Oh yes. Oh that’s more like it. Teensy weensy titties just starting to sprout, exactly the way he liked them. Not much in the way of pubes yet, either – that was something to be grateful for. No fuckin great hairy gashes.
Ah, look at that. The way she’s fingering her smooth little minge. And that blush on her cheeks. Ah, perfect. A definite keeper, this one. He downloaded the image and sat back. What is she, eleven maybe? Twelve? Perfect. Not as babyish as the other one.
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