‘I was thinking of her! I wanted to catch the bastards who kidnapped her.’
‘You want to save yourself money, you mean. Katti means nothing to you.’
‘Of course she does.’ Hartmann ran a hand through his colourless hair. ‘I wouldn’t be coughing up at all, if she didn’t.’
‘You care only for what people think of you, Hartmann. Your public image. You never change.’
‘Chrissake, Clara, give it a rest.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the police last night?’ Wolf said. ‘If you were going to ignore the kidnapper’s instructions anyway, the police might as well have been involved.’
Hartmann threw down his pen. ‘I prefer to let my own people deal with it, man. I’ve got guys out on the streets now, making enquiries. If anything comes up, I’ll act on it. In the meantime, there’s nothing else we can do till one of the bastards calls again.’
‘There is something we can do!’ Clara thumped the leather seat. ‘We must call the police. Call them now, Hartmann.’
‘Shut the fuck up, Clara. Yap yap yap. That’s all I ever get from you. All I ever got. Jeez, no wonder I took off when I did.’ He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a gold lighter.
‘Please. Herr Hartmann. Mutti.’ Wolf spread his hands. ‘Fighting amongst ourselves isn’t helping to get Katti back.’
Clara leapt up. ‘I will go to the police myself,’ she said, glaring at Hartmann. ‘I don’t have to listen to your insults any longer. Katti is my daughter. I will do what I think is best for her.’ She gathered her coat around her and flounced to the door in a flurry of leopardskin. ‘Wolfi. Let’s go.’
Hartmann threw his cigarette into the Bauhaus ashtray and shot out of his chair, leaving it spinning in his wake. ‘You’ll do no such fuckin thing, Clara. Damn you, you’ll do what I say, for once.’ He grabbed her by the collar and flung her back onto the seating. He raised his hand as though about to slap her.
Wolf sprang towards him, giving him a shove. Hartmann ducked away but Wolf went after him. He had two or three inches on the older man and good ten kilos. Hartmann’s rock dinosaur frame was no match for Wolf’s muscle. He grabbed him by the shirtfront and slammed him into the glass wall. ‘Leave my mother alone, you bastard,’ he muttered. ‘Bully. Bastard. Fucking –’
Hartmann came back at him, clunking his forehead into Wolf’s nose. Wolf tottered momentarily, caught off guard, then he smashed his fist into Hartmann’s face. Hartmann sprawled against the glass wall.
Clara clutched her left breast. ‘My heart! My heart! Wolfi, help me!’
Wolf stood back, panting. Hartmann slid down the wall and ran the back of his hand across his bleeding lips. He spluttered out sounds that weren’t quite words. ‘Yo... wha... ga...’
The door flew open and a woman burst in. ‘Herr Hartmann?’ Her substantial embonpoint trembled at the sight of her boss crumpled and bloody. She gaped from him to Wolf to Clara and back again. ‘I am calling the police at once.’ she said.
‘Good,’ sniffed Wolf, dabbing his nose. ‘You do that.’
Hartmann struggled to his feet. He flapped a hand at his secretary. ‘No. No police. It’s okay, Hilde. I’m fine.’
‘But Herr Hartmann –’
‘Get out, Hilde. Leave us alone. Go on, piss off!’ Hartmann coughed a glob of blood onto the pale grey carpet. ‘Get out, I said.’
Hilde pursed her lips, hitched up her bosoms, and left.
Clara lay across the Mies van der Rohe gasping. ‘Wolfi. Wolfi.’
Wolf turned irritably. ‘What’s the matter, Mutti?’
‘My heart. My heart.’
Hartmann spat a stream of bloody spit into his hand and wiped it on his jeans. ‘Here we go,’ he said. ‘That’s right, Clara, make the most of it. My heartz my heartz,’ he mimicked in falsetto.
Clara’s lips were blue beneath her pale pink lip-gloss.
‘Mutti?’ Wolf knelt beside her. ‘Phone an ambulance, Hartmann. Now. She’s not playacting this time.’
Seventy-five
Sammy sat back to back with Katti on the floor in Viktor’s living room. They were bound together, wrist to wrist. Her head lolled against his shoulder and he turned his face so he could smell her hair. She smelled of hash smoke and opium, of semen, of damp and dirt.
He eased his legs to relieve the cramp in his calves. The wire dug into his wrists as he tried to move his hands. Katti was coming round. She murmured incoherently.
‘Wake up, Pussycat.’ Sammy’s voice trembled and he swallowed to clear his throat. ‘Wake up, sweetheart. Wake up.’
If she was awake maybe she could stand. They’d both stand up and maybe they could get free somehow. Get free and away from here before Viktor came back. ‘Wake up, Pussycat.’ She must hear his heart thudding. She must surely feel it. If only she would wake up.
A noise in the hallway made him catch his breath. Don’t let that be Vik back already. Don’t let him be back so soon . He struggled against the wire, not caring that it bit into his flesh.
The door opened slowly. Eyes fixed on it, Sammy held his breath. Viktor would bundle them into the van, drive them who knows where, shoot them, dispose of their bodies. He had to overpower him. Put him out of action. But how? Think. He had to – His breath came out in a gasp when his brother stepped into the room. ‘Kris. Thank God.’
Kristo gaped at the scene, as if he couldn’t understand what he saw.
‘Kris,’ Sammy hissed. ‘Get us out of this. Quick.’
‘Where’s Viktor?’
‘He’s gone to get the van. Hurry Kristo –’
‘Must be getting a new one then. The other one was written off.’ Kristo rubbed the bruise on his forehead. ‘Where’ve you been these last few days?’
‘Untie me, will you. Vik’s gonna kill me.’
‘Is he? Why?’
‘Because he’s crazy! Please, Kris. Before he comes back. Untie me.’
Kristo knelt on the plush carpet and squinted into the gap between Sammy and Katti. ‘I’ll need wire cutters. I don’t have any.’
‘Untwist it. Untwist the wire. Come on Kris. Come on. He’s gonna kill me. And dump me somewhere. I know he is.’
Kristo reached down into the space between their backs and fumbled with the wire bound around both sets of wrists. ‘This isn’t going to be easy,’ he said. ‘Where’d you say you’d been?’
Sammy hesitated. He didn‘t want Kris to turn nasty as well. ‘With…with Vik,’ he said. ‘He…he had us locked up. He’s crazy. You know what he’s like.’
‘Locked up? The both of you?’ Kristo shook his head. ‘Nah. He was asking me where you were. Asking if anybody’d seen you. He was raging.’
‘Just untie us, will you?’ Sammy craned to see as Kristo laboriously uncurled the wire behind his back. He could feel his brother’s breath hot against his neck, tickling his ear. He could smell it too – beery and sour.
‘What you been up to, Zamir? You been trying it on? Queering Viktor’s plans?’
‘Kris, please –’
‘Don’t worry. I’m not blaming you.’ Kristo chuckled. ‘Had a good laugh when this one went missing.’ He nodded his head at Katti. ‘Put that bossy bitch’s nose well out of joint, that did. You know, marrying her was the worst thing Vik ever did. Oh Bebe! Oh Baba! She’s the one who’s fuckin crazy.’
He sat back on his heels. ‘Mind you, Vik isn’t that far behind her in the loony queue.’
Katti stirred and moaned. Sammy stiffened. ‘Never mind all that! Hurry up, Kris. Get us out of this.’
‘Don’t want her to wake up and find out how useless you are, eh?’ Kristo grunted as he worked at the wire. ‘Typical bloody Zamir. Can’t do a thing right.’
Sammy hissed in pain as Kris pulled the wire free. Katti cried out and slumped against him. ‘It’s okay, Pussycat. Shhh. It’s okay.’ Sammy chafed her wrists where the wire had left deep indentations.
Kristo reached for the wire binding Katti’s ankles.
> ‘No!’ Sammy knocked his hand away. ‘I’ll do hers. You do mine.’
He shuffled himself into a position where he could unwind Katti’s bonds while Kristo undid his. It was awkward but he didn’t want his brother touching his Pussycat any more than necessary. Don’t want her contaminated by that freak’s clammy perverted hands.
‘Not like I’d be interested in her. Far too old for me.’ Kristo chuckled again but got on with the task.
Sammy raised his head as Katti tried to speak –‘Babes...? Where...?’ – and hushed her again. Sweating now, fearful Viktor would return before they got away, he fumbled with the wire and cursed. His hands were numb and his grip feeble. Every creeping second seemed like an hour.
Finally, he undid the last twist of the wire and tossed it aside. Easing Katti to her feet he kissed her quickly then glanced around the room.
‘Where’s my keys?’ Surely Viktor wouldn’t have taken the Lada. No. Viktor would take one of his own cars not the shitheap he had to drive. He recalled the clunk the keys made when Vik had tossed them down. Where were they?
Kristo sauntered into the hallway and came back with the keys swinging from his stubby forefinger. ‘These them?’
‘Yeah. Thanks Kristo, thanks.’
Supporting Katti, his heart fluttering, his throat tight, Sammy led her to the car. ‘Come on, Pussycat. I know somewhere we can go.’
Seventy-six
Voices.
Voices raised, angry. Neighbours on the stairwell complaining.
Clutching each other, Lauren and Alina ventured from the living room to the hallway to listen.
German oaths:‘Scheisse, what’s going on?’
Whump.
‘Alle Mächtiger, what is happening?’
Whump.
‘Stop that!’
Whump.
‘The police have been called.’
Whump.
And the doorjamb cracked.
Alina screamed and ran into the kitchen. Lauren saw her grab a knife and was stunned at the girl’s presence of mind.
Before she could equip herself with a similar weapon the door burst inward, knocking over Wolf’s bicycle and sending it crashing to the floor. The door lay like a ramp over the mangled bike. Muscle thudded across it and lunged at Lauren, his eyes dull beneath his jutting brow.
Snatching a heavy book from the pile in the hallway, Lauren swiped at him. Muscle deflected the blow with the back of his hand.
Leering into her face he grabbed her around the throat, muttering what could only be obscenities. ‘Bushtër,’ he spat. ‘Cunt.’
Muscle spotted Alina just as Brains seesawed over the raked door, but not in time to avoid the first thrust of her blade. She leapt at him, piercing the sleeve of his jacket. With a howl Muscle flung Lauren aside and rounded on the girl as she withdrew the bloody knife.
Lauren crashed into the wall, the breath knocked from her in one balloon-shaped gasp. Brains grabbed her and slapped her hard. Lauren doubled over retching.
She heard the crack of Muscle’s fist slamming into Alina’s jaw. The knife flew from the girl’s hand and landed at Lauren’s feet. She lurched towards it but Brains grabbed her hair and hauled her back. Gulping in ragged breaths, she twisted, kicking at him. He swung her to face him and smiled. A yellowing bruise spread across both his eyes like a mask. Evidence of Muscle’s punches at the chalet.
Pulling her towards him, Brains kissed her wetly on the lips. Lauren brought her knee up but he jerked away before she could fully connect with his groin. Gagging, she spat the taste of him from her mouth. Her bloody spittle slithered down his gaunt face and he wiped it away with a grin.
‘Later,’ he said. ‘I make you beg.’ He panted like a dog, tongue out.
Muscle jerked Alina to her feet and dragged her to the door. Knotting his hand in Lauren’s hair, Brains followed. He swung her high so her feet barely touched the floor. Stumbling down the stairs, she was aware of pale anxious faces peering over banister rails and from doorways.
‘Why don’t you do something? Why don’t you help us?’ she screeched, though when she caught a glimpse of what was in Brains’ other hand, she understood their reluctance. No one would be keen to interfere with a gunman.
‘Die Polizei kommen,’ someone called as the faint wail of a siren sounded in the distance. Brains shouted something at Muscle and the men speeded up, propelling Lauren and Alina out of the building and towards the Mercedes at the kerb.
The cobbled street was deserted, lamplight pooling on the snow like a scene from a Christmas card. Lauren shouted, screamed, kicked, twisted. Alina sobbed and struggled. ‘Help us!’ screamed Lauren, before Muscle slammed Alina’s forehead into her own and everything went black.
Seventy-seven
When she came to, Lauren was slumped against Alina in the back seat of the Mercedes. Brains and Muscle were in the front yelling at each other. They didn’t seem to care that they’d been seen and could be identified by a dozen upstanding German citizens.
Alina groaned and her eyes flickered open. They could only have been out a few seconds, Lauren thought, a minute at most. Her hand lay beside Alina’s thigh and she patted her gently, hoping to quieten her. She didn’t want the goons banging their heads together again.
Sprawled as she was across the seat, Lauren could only peer upwards through the window. She saw lights and buildings, and the tops of cars. People walked by, visible only from shoulder to hip. She eased up a little to get a better view.
Though pounding and throbbing, her head felt only tenuously connected to her shoulders, as if it might topple off and roll away. She could feel the bump rising on her forehead and her vision was blurred. She tasted blood on her lip. When she inched herself higher, her stomach fluttered and heaved. Recognising where they were, she lay back, clammy from the effort.
They were racing along a narrow alleyway only a couple of streets away from Wolf’s place. Heading for Spittlertor, she thought, to get out of the old town, onto the ring road and go God only knows where after that. To that vomit-stinking chalet again, probably.
Her guts protested and queasiness threatened to overwhelm her. They had to get out of the car. She and Alina. Get out before they reached the main road, before Brains could really put his foot down and whisk them to their appointment with – well, something even more unpleasant than this. She slammed her mind closed to thoughts of what might await them. No way was she letting that lurking fear loom out of the shadows into full light.
The Mercedes slowed behind a delivery van kerb-crawling ahead of them. When the van pulled in, its back lights flashing, Brains cursed and swung the wheel to overtake. The Merc shot forward as he slammed his foot on the accelerator, the nearside wheels bumping up onto the kerb and down again in a series of teeth-loosening judders. Merciless, Brains kept his foot down, bouncing over the cobbles to ensure no molar stayed unrattled. Picking up speed, the car skidded around another corner – and straight into a Christmas market stall.
Instinctively, Lauren flung her arm forward, as she lurched into the back of the front seat. Muscle howled as his bulk hurtled forward and his fat head cracked on the dashboard. Muttering, Brains backed the Merc up, spinning the wheel to get around the obstacle while Muscle mouthed obscenities.
The snow was littered with knitted hats in rainbow colours. Striped scarves snaked across the alleyway; gloves – each finger a different hue – crawled over the bonnet of the car. The stallholder, bearded and attired in his own wares, shook a multicoloured fist.
He thumped on the side window, angry eyes burning out of a bushy face, curses spitting from a wet red mouth, the whole thing topped off with a cheerful woolly hat. Brains released the central locking to let Muscle out and, as the goon grabbed the vendor by his gaily striped scarf, Lauren hit the door handle.
Alina got the message fast. She scrambled out after Lauren while Muscle used the stallholder as a punchbag. The splat-ooof was loud and repeated. Brains struggled out of the driver’s s
ide but his way was blocked by the fallen trestle table and awning. He yelled a warning at Muscle as he picked his way through the tangle of wood and canvas.
Lauren prayed she wouldn’t actually throw up as she skittered across the slippery cobbled street. She sped across the salted pavement towards Laurenzkirk, past ranks of Christmas-lit stalls, heedless of who she bumped into, what goods she spilled. Her breath clouded in front of her face and the cold air seared her lungs.
Alina was seconds behind her. Lauren could hear her panting as clearly as she heard herself – a panting that was half gasping for breath, half sobbing with fear.
Screams and crashes behind them made Lauren whip her head around. The Mercedes was barrelling down the centre aisle between the two rows of stalls, its wheels seeming to churn just above the snowy pavement, its headlights glaring like dragon’s eyes.
Seventy-eight
Lauren grabbed a lamppost, swung herself around it and shot off at a tangent.
‘Alina! This way!’
Lauren bowled through a crowd of shoppers, skidded under the arches towards the entrance to Karstadt, and burst through the plate-glass doors into the overheated department store. She slid to a halt beside a display of nativity scenes with Alina crashing into her back.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Lauren croaked, ignoring the pursed lips of a saleswoman. Maybe they could get lost in here for a while. Find another way out. Find a policeman, anything, anything. Alina clung to her, her breathing laboured.
Lauren started forward again, forcing her trembling legs to move, pushing through the shoppers, deeper into the store. The Ladies, she thought, then immediately dismissed the idea. The goons wouldn’t think twice about barging into a lavatory, whatever the sign on the door said.
As she cast about desperately for another way out, Alina gave a soft scream and clutched her arm. Brains and Muscle were barging through the hosiery department, scanning the crowd.
Shit, thought Lauren. Coming into Karstadt was beginning to look like a bad idea.
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