Jackman’s upper lip curled back in a sneer. ‘Don’t try to analyse me, Mike. You don’t have the mental capacity.’ He pointed the gun at Cramer’s face. His finger tightened on the trigger.
‘Answer me one thing, though,’ said Cramer. Jackman didn’t say anything, but Cramer saw his trigger finger relax. ‘Why the head-shot? Why did you shoot them in the head and then in the chest? It wasn’t just a signature, was it?’
Jackman grinned. ‘It was a tribute,’ he said. ‘That was how Anton killed his victims. It locked in their souls, he said.’ He saw the look of disbelief in Cramer’s eyes and his grin vanished. ‘That’s what he said. I’m not saying I believed him. It was just his theory, that’s all.’
‘So what was the real reason? You must have wondered.’
‘Of course I wondered.’ Jackman paced up and down, but he kept the gun aimed at Cramer.
‘So tell me.’
Jackman stopped pacing. He stared at Cramer. Cramer held the look. Jackman was three paces away. Within range. Cramer put his hands together. It was a non-threatening pose but his right hand was just inches away from the stiletto again. ‘He was abused by his father as a child,’ Jackman continued. ‘Physical abuse of a particularly vicious kind. His mother used to watch. She’d watch and she’d encourage her husband. Sometimes she’d hold Anton down so that her husband could do what he wanted. That’s what he remembered most. Not the buggery, not the pain, but her eyes. Watching him.’
‘So when he started killing, he shot them in the face?’
Jackman nodded. ‘You got it.’
‘And you decided to do it the same way. .’
‘So that he’d know,’ finished Jackman. ‘He’d know that I was as good as he was. Better even, because he was in prison and I was on the outside.’
Jackman stopped speaking as if realising that he’d already said too much. He stretched his arm out, the gun levelled at Cramer’s face. ‘Enough talking,’ he said. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
The Colonel screwed up his eyes and peered up at the windows of Vander Mayer’s flat. Whoever had been standing there had moved away. He turned and picked up the phone. He was about to tap out the number to Vander Mayer’s flat but he changed his mind and called the doorman again instead. ‘Do me a favour, will you?’ he said once the man answered. ‘I’m having trouble getting through to Mr Vander Mayer’s apartment. Will you go up and see if there’s a problem with his telephone?’
‘Of course,’ said the doorman. ‘Though it was okay when I called up before.’
‘Well, try again. If you get through, ask him to call me at this number.’ The Colonel gave the doorman the number of the apartment he was using. ‘If you can’t get an answer, pop up and see if there’s something wrong with the phone.’
The Colonel replaced the receiver and sat down in front of the desk. He tapped his walking stick on the floor, deep in thought. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
‘Let the girl go,’ said Cramer. ‘This is between you and me.’
‘It’s nothing to do with you and me,’ said Jackman. ‘I’m taking care of business, that’s all.’ He started to squeeze the trigger. ‘You know what I like best of all?’ Jackman asked. Cramer said nothing. ‘The look in their eyes when they realise they’re going to die.’
Cramer stared back at Jackman. ‘Just do it, Bernie,’ he said quietly. ‘Pull the trigger and get it over with.’
Jackman frowned. ‘You’re not scared, are you?’
‘No.’
‘If you beg me for your life, I might not kill you.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ said Jackman, flatly.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Cramer.
‘Cramer, do as he says,’ said Su-ming.
Cramer turned to look at her. He’d almost forgotten that she was still in the room. ‘He’s going to kill me anyway, Su-ming.’
Jackman looked at Su-ming and smiled cruelly. ‘What about you, little lady? Why don’t you beg for his life?’
‘Su-ming, don’t,’ said Cramer. Jackman had switched his attention to Su-ming, though the gun was still pointing at Cramer’s face. Cramer moved his hand a fraction and the fingers of his right hand probed inside his left sleeve and found the hilt of the stiletto.
Jackman suddenly switched his attention back to Cramer. Cramer let his hands fall to his sides. ‘You think you’re better than me, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Yes, you do. They picked you to go up against me, and you figured you were good enough to take me on. That was the plan, wasn’t it?’
‘Are you going to talk me to death, Bernie? Or are you going to pull the trigger?’
Jackman’s eyes hardened. ‘That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? I’ve got the drop on you, shooting you cold wouldn’t prove anything, would it?’
‘Just do it, Bernie.’
Jackman studied him for several seconds. ‘Why?’ he said eventually. ‘Why are you doing this? No one wants to die.’
‘He does,’ said Su-ming quietly.
Cramer whirled around and glared at her. ‘Shut up!’ he hissed.
Su-ming wouldn’t look at him. She stood up and faced Jackman. ‘He’s dying. He’s got cancer. He wants to be killed, it’s an easy way out for him.’
‘Su-ming, shut the fuck up,’ Cramer shouted.
‘If you kill him, you’ll be doing him a favour,’ said Su-ming as if Cramer hadn’t spoken.
Jackman began to chuckle. His shoulders shook as he laughed, but his eyes remained hard. ‘Well, well, well,’ he said. ‘Who’d have thought it? A death-wish.’
He backed away from Cramer and took the Walther off the desk. He weighed it in his hand. ‘It’s a small gun, not much stopping power,’ he mused.
‘It does the job,’ said Cramer.
There was a coffee table to Cramer’s right, black marble with white veins running through it. Jackman walked over to the table and put the gun down on it, the butt facing Cramer. Jackman slowly backed away until the gun was midway between them. Cramer looked at the gun. The safety was off. It was two paces away from him, and Jackman was a further two paces away from the table.
Jackman gestured at the gun. ‘Go for it,’ he said.
Cramer shook his head. ‘I’m through playing games,’ he said.
Jackman stared at him menacingly. Then slowly and purposefully he pointed the gun at Su-ming. ‘If you don’t, I’ll shoot her first. In the gut. Then I’ll shoot you.’
Su-ming wrapped her arms around herself as if giving herself a hug. Cramer glared at Jackman. ‘If I try for the gun, will you let her go?’ he asked.
Jackman sighed wearily. ‘What do you think?’ he said.
‘I think you’ll kill her anyway.’
Jackman nodded at Cramer’s gun. ‘At least if you go for it, you’ve got a chance of saving her life and yours.’
Cramer looked at the gun. Two paces. More than enough time for Jackman to aim and fire. He wasn’t being offered any sort of chance. He put his hands on his hips and stared at Jackman.
‘Well?’ said Jackman. ‘Shall I count to three or something?’
‘You’ve never worried about shooting an unarmed man before, have you?’ said Cramer. ‘You’ve shot women and children and old men so why this sudden urge to give me a break?’
Jackman pursed his lips as if considering how to reply. ‘The kick,’ he said. ‘The challenge. Everything so far
