men are climbing out.. .. Four, five, six-six men in dark clothing."
"They really must want you, youngster," said Witkowski as he and Drew ran into the bedroom, joining Karin at the window.
"A couple of them are carrying knapsacks," said Latham.
"One of them is talking to the driver of the car," added De Vries.
"He's obviously telling him to leave. He's backng away."
"The others are spreading out, examining the building," completed the colonel, touching Karin's arm, forcing her to turn to him.
"The young fellow and I are going to leave." The woman's eyes flashed in alarm.
"Not to worry, we'll be right below. Close the bedroom door and bolt it; it's steel-plate and no one could break it open without a truck or a ten-man battering ram."
"For Christ's sake, call the police or at least embassy security!"
Drew was cool but firm.
"Unless I'm grossly mistaken, my friendly neighbors will reach the police, but not before you and I have a chance to grab one or two of the bastards for ourselves."
"And you'd lose them if our security was involved," Karin broke in.
"They'd be forced to cooperate with the police, who'd take everyone into custody."
"You're very quick," Witkowski agreed, nodding at her in the dim light from the street.
"You'll hear a loud siren from the hallway, and most likely a great deal of electric static from the fire escape-"
"It's wired. You activated the current."
"You knew about that?" asked Latham, astonished.
"In Amsterdam, Freddie did the same with ours."
"I taught him," said the colonel without emphasis.
"Come on, chlopak, there's no time to waste."
Eighty-five seconds later, the irritated Hungarian had been persuaded to accept the price offered by an influential American who had interceded for him in the past and in . ight be helpful in the future. Witkowski and Drew stood by the downstairs neighbor's door, which was open less than an inch. The waiting was interminable, the time elapsed nearly eight minutes.
"Something's wrong," whispered the colonel.
"It's not reasonable."
"No one's come up the stairs and there's no static from either fire escape," said Latham.
"Maybe they're still casing the building."
"That doesn't make sense either. These old structures are open books, and like books on a shelf, close together.. .. Jesus, 'close together The knapsacks!"
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm a damn fool, that's what. They've got grappling hooks and ropes! They're crossing from one building to another and scaling down the stone. Out! Upstairs as fast as we can. And for God's sake, don't step on the rug!"
Karin sat in the shadows across from the window, her weapon in her hand, listening for the sounds of high-voltage electricity from outside. None came, and it was now nearly ten minutes since the colonel and Latham had left. She began to wonder. Witkowski, by his own admission, was suspicious of everyone and everything to the point of paranoia, and Drew was exhausted. Was it possible all of them were wrong? Had the colonel mistaken a jealous lover or a frightened husband for something sinister? And had the tired Latham seen a face that reminded him of Alan Reynolds in Communications but was someone else's entirely? Were the men in the van, men who moved so quickly they had to be young, merely a group of university students returning from a camping trip or a late night in Paris? She put the gun down on a small table beside the chair, and stretched, her head arched back and yawning. Good heavens, she needed sleep.
And then, like an enormous combination of thunder and lightning, a figure crashed through the window, shattering glass and wood, landing on its feet and releasing a rope. Karin sprang out of the chair, instinctively rushing backward, her bandaged right hand groping for anything and everything. And then came another silhouetted, daredevil intruder, sliding on his rope until he landed by the bed.
"Who are you?" screamed De Vries in German, collecting what thoughts she could, realizing that her gun was on the small table.
"What do you want here?"
"You speak German," said the first invader, "so you know what we want! Why else would you speak our language?"
"It is second to my own, and few understand my native Walloon."
Karin circled, approaching the table.
"Where is he, Mrs. de Vries?" asked the second man by the bed menacingly.
"You won't get out of here, you know. Our comrades will block you; they're on their way up now. They just needed our signal and the window was;
"I don't know what you're talking about! Since you know who I am, does it shock you that