by Tom Wood
‘He’s clean.’
‘I’m glad to hear that,’ Georg said to Victor. ‘It would have been very bad for you had we found anything.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Your German’s excellent,’ Georg said, taking two steps closer. ‘But you’re not German. What are you, American?’
‘Sometimes,’ he answered.
Lines deepened in Georg’s forehead. ‘You’re really not what I was expecting.’
‘You said that once already.’
‘Let me explain myself.’
Victor brought the cup to his lips and swallowed.
‘In my line of work I meet all kinds of people, all different, but what I get for them tells me a lot about who they are. Let’s take you, for example. You don’t have to say what you do for a living as what you’re buying might as well be a business card.’
Victor remained stationary and silent. He didn’t know where Georg was headed, and he didn’t care, but it seemed polite not to interrupt.
‘I’m not sure what the correct euphemism is these days but I’ve dealt with your kind before,’ Georg continued. ‘Not often, but more than a few times. And when I have I’ve always been able to analyse that person completely within seconds of us meeting. It’s not difficult. They try so hard to make out they’re fearsome when they’re actually not, else they really are that scary and they don’t need to try.’ She paused. ‘But you’re neither.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘I’m not sure I meant it as one.’
‘I’ll still take it as a compliment.’
Georg stepped closer and stared hard at Victor. Her eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated. On something stronger than just nicotine. ‘I’m really not going to find out who you are, am I?’
‘No,’ Victor said. ‘And you wouldn’t want to.’
‘A shame.’ Georg sighed and perched herself on a crate and used a hand to wipe something from her jeans. ‘Let’s do some business.’
Victor nodded. ‘I take it you have all the goods on the list.’
Georg counted off on her fingers as she said, ‘Russian army blasting caps, nine-millimetre pistol with threaded barrel, silencer, pick gun, and fourteen pounds of cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine with the bits to make it go ka-boom. Did I pronounce that right, by the way?’
‘You did,’ Victor assured. ‘I want to check everything.’
‘Of course, my boy, I would have expected nothing less. You’re a professional, after all.’ She drew out the words. ‘But so am I. And I’d like to see the money first.’
With his free hand, Victor slowly reached into an outer pocket. He did so while closely watching what the muscle and the guide were doing. There were no tension-relieving gestures, no shifting of weight, nothing to suggest they were waiting to put a pre-planned course of action into play when he showed he had the money. Satisfied this wasn’t an ambush, Victor withdrew the slim bundle of hundred-euro notes.
Georg dropped down from the crate and inched closer. She stared at the money. ‘That doesn’t look like enough to me.’
‘It’s half of it.’
Georg’s eyes rose to meet Victor’s. She spoke quietly, menacingly. ‘Then you’ve not only wasted my time but insulted me. And neither is a very wise move for a man in your position.’
‘After I have the goods you can come with me to pick up the rest of the money,’ Victor explained. ‘Or send one of your men to do so.’
‘That’s not how I do business.’
‘And ferries, empty warehouses and guards with forty-fives aren’t how I do business,’ Victor countered. ‘This is the price you pay for how things have been conducted thus far.’
The muscle touched a hand to his gun. His expression was half-surprised, half-annoyed. Georg considered for a few seconds.
‘What’s to stop me taking that money and having the location of the second half beaten out of you?’
The guide and the muscle both stiffened in readiness for what might follow.
Victor kept his gaze locked on Georg. ‘One, you’d lose a valuable future customer. And two,’ he said, voice calm, emotionless. ‘I’d kill you and your men inside ten seconds.’
The muscle didn’t like that answer. His scowl intensified and his knuckles whitened. The guide’s back straightened. Victor ignored them both. He watched Georg’s reaction, first shock and anger that eventually became a smile and Victor knew he’d played it correctly.
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘we’ll do it your way.’
CHAPTER 6
Victor heard them a few seconds before he saw them. They entered fast, through the entrance on the wall next to the sink — five men full of intent, four with guns in hand. One shotgun. Three handguns. They didn’t move or look like trained professionals but the way they held their weapons showed they were no strangers to violence.
The muscle reacted fast, turning and reaching for the Colt but a shout to stop and muzzles pointed his way made him think twice. The guide showed the palms of his hands while Georg kicked a crate in anger, or disgust or both.
Victor remained as he was. Aside from the elevator there was no exit close enough to risk moving to, and no way to get the shutter opened and closed before bullets started taking pieces out of him. Until he knew what was happening, there was nothing else he could do.
As he entered, the last of the intruders shouted, ‘Ah, my dear Georg. Fancy finding you here.’
He was short, slight of build, dressed in a cheap suit. His hands were free of weapons but Victor paid him the most attention. The others moved closer and spread out, one covering Georg, the guide and Victor. Two at the muscle. The one with the shotgun pointed it at Victor. Typical.
Georg held her arms out questioningly. ‘What are you doing here, Krausse?’
The man in the cheap suit stepped into the light. He was maybe forty years old. His thinning hair was black and short. Pockmarks covered the skin of his cheeks and forehead.
‘I could ask you the same thing, Georg,’ Krausse said, glancing around. ‘But it looks to me like you’re conducting some business, and without my prior knowledge.’
‘Get out of here, Krausse,’ Georg shouted, ‘and take your clowns with you. What we’re doing has nothing to do with you.’
‘Oh, but it does,’ Krausse laughed. ‘We’re business partners, remember?’
‘We were,’ Georg corrected.
Malice was in Krausse’s smile. ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ He looked at Victor. ‘Who’s the suit?’
‘What does it matter? He’s no one.’
‘It matters.’ Krausse gestured Victor’s way. ‘Who are you?’
Victor stood casually. ‘Like she said, no one.’
‘You will be no one if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here.’
Victor glanced at each of Krausse’s men. The three with handguns were twitchy — lots of little movements, swallowing. Light caught the sweat on their skin. The one with the shotgun was calmer, more focused, his small eyes barely blinking. The nostrils of his flat, misshapen nose flexed with relaxed, regular breaths.
After a moment Victor said, ‘I’m making a buy.’
‘And what are you buying?’
‘Flowers for my mother.’
A couple of Krausse’s men smiled.
Krausse exhaled. ‘Funny fucker, aren’t you?’
‘I’m reading a joke book.’
Georg looked over a shoulder. ‘Do us all a favour and stay quiet.’
‘That’s good advice,’ Krausse said. ‘We don’t have to get unpleasant. I’m just here to take my rightful share of any transactions.’
‘You mean you’re here to steal,’ Georg said.
Krausse smirked in response. ‘If that’s how you want to put it, my sweet, I’m not going to argue.’ He turned to Victor. ‘What are you buying? And think about your answer before you speak this time.’
Victor remained silent.
‘He’s buying explosives,’ Geor
g said after a few seconds. ‘A gun, stuff like that.’
‘Interesting.’ Krausse raised his eyebrows at Victor and nodded. ‘Are they for your mother too?’
‘She likes to stay active.’
Krausse laughed and his men joined him, guns lowering a few inches. Victor watched the guy with the shotgun turn to one of the others and shake his head in disbelief. The shotgun barrel angled down a fraction.
Krausse looked back to Georg. ‘Where the hell did you find this guy?’
‘He found me.’
‘Figures. Just how much explosive is he buying?’
Georg shrugged. ‘A reasonable amount.’
Krausse smiled at Victor. ‘Then knowing Georg, you’ll be paying an unreasonable amount for it.’ He looked at one of his men. ‘Take his cash.’
The man who approached Victor was about the same height — an inch or two over six feet — but bigger at the neck, shoulders and especially waistline. His face was hard, serious. He stank.
‘You packing?’ he asked as he came closer.
Victor said, ‘Not unless you count my coffee.’
In the edge of his vision, Victor caught Georg glancing his way. Victor didn’t glance back.
The gunman lowered his weapon as he approached. ‘Just keep your hands where I can see them.’
He patted Victor down with his left hand. Not as thorough as Georg’s muscle, but thorough enough. The man took the stack of money from Victor’s hand and held it up for Krausse to see. He half-turned away from Victor to do so. Victor waited a second and took a small sidestep to the right.
Krausse didn’t look happy. ‘That’s not a lot of money.’
Before anyone could respond, a cell phone rang. Victor approved of the ringtone: Water Music by Handel. Krausse struggled to pull it from the pocket of his suit trousers. He looked at the screen for a moment before denying the call.
‘I hate these things. They rule your life,’ he said, putting it back in the pocket. ‘Now, you were about to tell me where the rest of the money is.’
Victor didn’t say anything. He glanced at the other three of Krausse’s men. They weren’t as stiff as they had been when they first arrived. They looked in control, relaxing more as time ticked by. Comfortable.
‘He was going to take me to it after he’d collected the stuff,’ Georg explained.
‘Now he can take me instead.’ Krausse looked at the guy with the money. ‘Count it.’
His back to Victor, the man put his gun into the left pocket of his jacket and started thumbing through the notes.
‘Do I get to keep the goods I’m here for?’ Victor asked.
Krausse said, ‘I told you that you’re funny.’
‘What if I say please?’
Krausse laughed, turned to his men with a look of amused astonishment. They smiled or shrugged back at him, guns as close to their waists as shoulders. Victor took another small sidestep. The one counting the money now blocked his line of sight to the two with handguns to his left. And vice versa.
Victor spoke to Krausse without looking at him. ‘Are you sure you won’t reconsider?’
‘Oh, I’m quite sure,’ Krausse said.
‘Then you leave me no choice.’
Victor squeezed the coffee cup in his left hand. The lid popped clear and he reached inside, drew out a black folding knife, extended the blade and drove it into the lower back of the man in front of him.
He stiffened and screamed, dropping the money. Victor let go of the knife, grabbed the gun from the man’s pocket, and pointed it at Krausse’s head before anyone could react.
The man with the knife in his back groaned and sank to his knees. For a moment no one else moved or spoke. Hundred-euro notes floated to the floor.
Victor’s gaze flicked between the three other gunmen. Their guns were back up and they were anxious, looking from him to Krausse and back again, waiting for orders. No one looked like he was stupid enough to shoot while Victor had a gun on their boss, but he couldn’t be certain.
Krausse slowly clapped. ‘Impressive performance.’ He glared at Victor. ‘Bravo.’
Victor glared back. ‘You should see what I do for an encore.’
‘Then let’s not go there.’
‘We don’t have to,’ Victor said. ‘I just want what I came here for.’
The man with the knife in his back tipped forward and fell on to his side. He lay in a foetal position. Blood pooled on the floor around him. Victor had stabbed him between the spine and left kidney. A potentially mortal wound, but he could be saved if treated soon. Victor hadn’t wanted to kill him outright in case it inspired one of the others into seeking some kind of foolish vengeance resulting in them both getting killed. These guys were likely friends and he wanted them more concerned about helping the wounded man than anything else.
Georg’s own guys were out of Victor’s field of view but he could see Georg in his peripheral vision; while predictably nervous with the change in circumstances, she was far from panicking. Victor hoped all three of them would have the intelligence to stay out of proceedings.
Having a gun pointed at his brains didn’t seem to have much effect on Krausse. His smile was gone but he was calm, annoyed more than scared.
‘So how are we going to do this?’ he asked.
‘Start by having your men drop their weapons.’
Krausse shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I won’t tell you twice.’
Krausse nodded as though he had expected that exact answer. ‘You’re fast, my friend, but both you and I know you’re not fast enough to shoot me and all my men before getting killed yourself. You’re not the suicidal type, are you?’
‘Not lately.’
‘Good. And I know if I so much as try to tell my men to fire you’ll kill me before I finish the sentence.’
‘Before you finish the first word.’
‘I believe you,’ Krausse said. ‘So it’s a stalemate and we’ll all keep our guns.’
Krausse wasn’t the threat, his thugs were, but he was right, they were too spread out to risk shooting at. If they weren’t, Victor would have shot them all already.
He said, ‘I’m going to leave the money where it is and then I’m going to walk out of here. You’re going to let me.’
‘What about the other half of the money?’
‘It’s in a trashcan on the corner of the street where Ballindamm meets Alstertor.’
‘Then we’re done.’
‘Not quite. Where’s the equipment?’ Victor asked Georg.
Georg was silent.
‘Tell him,’ Krausse ordered.
Georg’s voice was quiet, defeated. ‘It’s in a van nearby. I’ll take you to it.’
‘No, no, no.’ Krausse shook his head. ‘You stay here. We haven’t finished.’
‘You’re going to get all the money,’ Georg said. ‘Just go.’
‘You double-crossed me, Georg. And this isn’t even the first time. I know about that deal you did for those Munich fuckers without me. What kind of a man would I be if I let such disrespect go unpunished? That’s the reason I came here, so we could discuss your betrayal,’ Krausse explained. ‘Tell him where the van is and give him the keys. You’re not going to need them again.’
‘No.’
‘Tell him.’
Georg straightened, defiant. ‘No.’
‘Tell him, Georg, or I’ll let my boys work off some of their frustration on you until you feel like cooperating.’
‘ Fuck you.’
Victor knew what was going to happen in the silence before Georg pulled a gun. When she did, Victor was already moving, gaining half a second head start over the others. He dived behind a nearby stack of crates a moment ahead of one of Krausse’s men opening fire. The loud report from the handgun echoed around the warehouse.
Blood splashed as Georg took the bullet in the left shoulder before she could fully raise her small pistol. She stumbled, managed to fire at Krausse, but misse
d, the round blowing a hole in the wall behind him. Georg corrected her aim for a second shot.
A shotgun blast hit her in the stomach.
Georg collapsed backwards, falling on to the sheeting heaped near the elevator. Blood glistened on the plastic.
Georg’s men panicked and drew their own guns. Victor watched as the muscle was first to go down, bullets hitting him simultaneously in the chest and back. The guide lived a little longer.
When the shooting had stopped, Victor heard the clinking of expended shells but, crouched down behind the crates, he couldn’t see Krausse or his men. There were no groans or screams so he knew there was no one wounded. The man he’d stabbed was silent, unconscious. Victor didn’t know what was going to happen next and standing up didn’t seem like the best way to find out. If they planned on shooting him too, the crates would provide some protection, assuming there was anything inside. If not, at least they blocked line of sight.
‘You can come out now,’ Krausse said.
‘I’m actually quite comfortable where I am.’
Krausse laughed. ‘Tell me, my new best friend, how long are you planning on staying behind there?’
Victor checked the gun, a Glock 17. Aside from a few scratches it looked reasonably maintained. He released the magazine, saw that it was loaded with 9 mm FMJs and quietly pushed it back into place. He carefully moved the slide to look into the chamber. It seemed clean but he blew into it in case there was any dirt. Glocks were as reliable as the sunset; still, it didn’t hurt to be sure. Victor loaded a round into the chamber, pulling the slide slowly to lessen the noise.
He said, ‘Let’s say until you leave.’
‘I’m starting to like you,’ Krausse said back. ‘And I really mean that. But you know as well as I do that I can’t let that happen.’
Victor thought quickly. He couldn’t stay where he was for long. The more time he took to act, the more time they would have to surround him. He slipped off his suit jacket.
‘What about our deal?’
‘Our deal?’ Krausse laughed again. ‘You mean the deal we made while you had a gun pointing at my face? If that’s the one you mean, your bargaining position has been severely weakened since then.’