the agent's left temple blew apart, blood shooting out where the bullet exited the man's skull. Simultaneously, the second Deuxieme escort arched backward, eyes wide, mouth gaping, a guttural cry emerging from his throat as a long-bladed knife was yanked out of his back. Both men slumped to the pavement; De Vries started to scream, but a strong hand was clamped over her mouth and she was shoved violently inside the automobile, her attacker following, slamming her into the backseat. Barely seconds later, the opposite door opened and a breathless second killer jumped in gripping a blood-streaked knife in his right hand, the dripping blade as deep red as the hotel's canopy.
"Los schnell!" he cried.
The car leapt forward into the street, in moments settling into the flow of the traffic. The first killer spoke as he removed his spiderlike hand from Karin's face.
"Screaming will do you no good," he said, "but if you try you'll have scars on both cheeks."
"Willkommen, Frau de Vries," said the driver, partially turning his head around while shoving a curled-up corpse across the seat.
"It seems you're determined to be with your husband. It will certainly happen if you refuse to cooperate with us."
"You killed those two men," whispered Karin, her mouth raw, unable to find her voice.
"We are the saviors of the new Germany," said the driver.
"We do what we have to do."
"How did you find me?"
"Quite simple. You have enemies where you think you have friends."
"The Americans?"
"They're there, yes. Also the British and the French."
"What are you going to do with me?"
"That depends on you. You can either join your once celebrated husband, Frederik de Vries, or you can join us. We know you're for sale."
"I simply want to find my once-celebrated husband, you know that too."
"You make no sense, Frau de Vries."
Silence.
030 @
he loud radio blocking out much of the abrasive sound of the street traffic outside, Latham tried on The bulletproof jacket, pulling the enlarged army officer's tunic over it, surprised at how relatively comfortable it was. He kept glancing at the telephone on the desk, wondering why Karin had not called him; she had said she would once she settled into her quarters at the embassy. She had left over two hours before, her luggage following shortly. Shaking his head unconsciously while chuckling, he imagined her meeting Witkowski, the colonel being soundly berated, even yelled at, over the decision to let him go solo. Poor Stosh, his tough exterior notwithstanding, he was not prepared for a righteous onslaught by the future wife of his Consular Operations officer. Drew actually felt sorry for the colonel; in a way he could not win except by official decree, which was basically unsatisfying. Karin had love on her side, an emotion both Stanley and Ambassador Courtland had experienced, and lost, courtesy of their government careers.
Latham crossed to the body-length mirror in the hallway and observed his image. The underlining chest protector made him appear more imposing than he was, reminding him of his days on the ice under a green and white uniform in Canada, where body checks and slap shots were as important- as life and death-how totally ridiculous in afterthought.. .. Long enough! he said to himself as he walked back to the desk and the telephone. He picked it up and started to dial, then there was a knocking at the door. He slammed down the phone, walked to the door, examining the code sheet, and said, "Who is it?"
"Witkowski," answered the voice on the other side.
"What's your code?"
"To hell with that, it's me."
"You're supposed to say "Good King Wenceslas," you asshole!"
"Open the door before I blow the lock off with my forty-five."
"That has to be you, cretin, because you probably don't know that a brass lock can ricochet a bullet into your stomach."
"Not if you fire around the rim, you maggot. Open!"
In contrast to the shouted insults, a sober, serious Witkowski and Claude Moreau stood in the doorframe, their expressions pained.
"We must talk," said the chief of the
Deuxieme Bureau as he and, the colonel walked inside.
"Something terrible has happened." I
"Karin!" exploded Drew.
"She hasn't called-she said she would call at least an hour ago! Where is she?"
"We're not sure, but the facts are unsettling," answered Moreau.
"What facts?"
"Two of Claude's men were killed on the pavement outside," replied Witkowski.
"One with a bullet in his head, the other with a knife. The Bureau's car is gone, the driver presumed dead also."
"They were taking her to the embassy!" roared Latham.