'Have a better idea?' Cochrane asked.
No one did. Cochrane moved ahead. He scanned the surface of the water as he walked, squinting and trying to make the light from shore work for him. Why was the moon so dark tonight? Coincidence, or part of Siegfried's design?
A phrase came tumbling back to him out of the past. No, he thought, there were no coincidences. Fact: the water was the least guarded area. Conclusion: Siegfried was out there somewhere!
Cochrane cautiously walked twenty feet from the water. There was suddenly the sound of a male voice and Cochrane's hand was upon his pistol, drawing it, pointing it, and praying that Fowler did not have the drop on him already.
He shone his own small light in the direction of the noise and yelled, 'Freeze! F.B.I.! Freeze or I'll shoot!' And the focal point of his body was his quaking finger on the trigger.
Then, stunned, he could barely react to what he saw. Two young men, one slighter than the other, their clothes askew, fresh from an embrace that Cochrane had interrupted, stood trembling and staring at him. One wore a woman's wig and an earring. It took Cochrane a full five seconds to comprehend and relax.
'Go on,' he said, lowering the weapon. 'Get out of here.' He turned off his flashlight. Wordlessly, the two men fled, one whimpering in terror.
Can't be so nervous! Cochrane told himself, feeling his soaking palm against the black steel of his gun. Can't react that fast. I'll kill the wrong person. Cochrane replaced his pistol in its holster and continued to walk.
*
What were they doing with flashlights? Siegfried wondered. The man and the woman appeared to be looking for something. Siegfried was fifty feet off shore and intently watched Peter Whiteside and Laura. With a pair of long quiet strokes, he moved closer to them. Then he heard their voices and recognized them.
Siegfried was incensed! How dare these benighted amateurs endanger him again! This time they would both pay dearly.
Laura turned and shone her light across the water. Siegfried was imperceptible amid the choppy surface of the Potomac. Then the beam was gone.
He watched them. Their lights were like beacons and they were not far from Siegfried's car. In the water, he watched their lights move farther down the promenade. Then the Englishman walked ahead of her by several paces.
Siegfried studied the situation. A few seconds earlier he had thought he had seen a third, smaller beam farther down the shore. But when he looked for it again, he did not detect it. Must have been an odd car light, he reckoned. He waited several seconds more.
First Laura, then the Englishman. A quick, essential military operation. He moved to a position behind them and slipped quietly through the water toward shore. He reached to his leg and unsheathed the knife.
Then Laura and Peter Whiteside made things easier. Laura stayed behind and Whiteside went on ahead, They split by about fifty feet.
Siegfried was out of the water. For good measure, he reached within his diving suit and unwrapped his pistol. He placed it back within the suit, ready to draw it if necessary. There were benches and shade trees along the promenade. But Siegfried also would have to cross open spaces where he was exposed. He would have to kill Laura quickly, then catch the Englishman equally by surprise.
He started after her, holding the dagger in his fist. He would grab her from behind, he quickly calculated, cover her mouth, and put the knife between her ribs. She would never know what happened.
He was thirty feet behind her now. Laura stopped and again scanned the surface of the water with her flashlight. Siegfried moved to the side of a kiosk. He stood with his back flush to it on a side facing away from her.
Siegfried could hear his own heart pounding. He edged toward the corner of the kiosk and inclined his head to peer around the corner. She still had the flashlight beam illuminated. She looked back in his direction as if she might have heard something. She even took a step in his direction. But then she turned and followed Whiteside.
Siegfried studied his two victims. Now he understood: Whiteside was covering the ground along the promenade. Laura was watching the water. By slipping behind them, Siegfried knew, he had them both at his mercy. He could blindside both of them. I will cut her throat, he consciously decided. Messier, but there will be no scream. Same with the Englishman.
Laura was in the open and Siegfried started after her.
She held the lantern in her left hand and scanned the water, and he was within twenty feet of her. Then fifteen. He bolted forward in full flight, the knife aloft in his fist, ready to cut.
Laura swept a strand of hair from her face and turned her head slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw-!
She turned as he hit her. She ducked but he had her with one hand and her mouth opened in horror-just like the poor woman who was murdered behind the church! She thought-and she launched an unholy piercing scream unlike any other in her life.
As she clutched the lantern, she saw the glint of light off the blade of the knife. She cried out again as it moved toward her throat.
His hands were wet and cold. The rubber suit was wet and slick. His grip on her was not firm. She had one hand free and held off the knife. She managed to turn. Laura's other hand crashed into his face. The steel flashlight hit him in the eye with much more force than he ever could have imagined.
Then she brought her knee upward and it was his turn to bellow. She hit him in the face again with the flashlight, across the bridge of the nose, and he slashed at her with the knife.
But he was off balance and missed. She broke away.
Siegfried cursed violently. The pain in his groin rocketed through him, but he remained on his feet.
'Laura! Laura!' Whiteside called out, and Siegfried could see the Englishman running in their direction, marked by his own lantern beam.
Siegfried staggered for a step, then pulled his revolver. It was his only option now. He raised the pistol. She was thirty, forty feet away and moving. The Englishman was maybe sixty. Easy pistol range, but Laura was directly in the line of fire. Thought to Siegfried was now all simultaneous: Have to hit the Englishman first. No time. Just shoot!
Whiteside dropped his lantern and raised his own weapon. But Siegfried fired first. Then bullets were everywhere, and Laura hit the ground.
Whiteside squeezed off two shots, then a third, but he was moving to one side as he fired. His aim was off. Siegfried's first bullet hit him in the leg, and the next smacked into his flesh a few inches above the heart. His own weapon flew from his hand and he went down.
In his pain, as he held his hands to his wounds and felt the warmth of his own blood, Whiteside stared at Siegfried. Fowler was like a black specter, something evil and violent risen from hell itself, framed by the light from a distant streetlamp and standing erect, triumphant, and proud on the other side of Laura's fallen, prostrate body.
Whiteside gasped and went to find his pistol. But his left arm wouldn't work at all. He was helpless. Siegfried-the executioner-stepped closer. Then even closer.
Laura was moving again. She whirled and threw up her hands, turning back toward the man she had once loved.
'No! Stephen! No!' she cried out in terror. Fowler raised his gun again-First Laura, then the Englishman, the proper order after all-and the night was alive with the crackling of pistol fire. Laura closed her eyes.
She waited for the pain. She waited for the bullets to tear into her flesh, for the agony of death and the inevitability of the onrushing final blackness… three, four, five shots. Then a sixth!
The first two shots from Cochrane's pistol sailed wide of Siegfried. Fowler was not the easiest target for Cochrane, shooting as he was from many yards behind Peter Whiteside. But the first shots had forced Siegfried to fire at the gunman, who must have been farther up the promenade, only to come racing back at the first sounds of violence.
Cochrane's third shot hit Stephen Fowler in the center of the chest and drove him backward. On instinct and strength he fired again, but now for Siegfried all was pain and confusion. He fired again wildly and then his empty gun clicked harmlessly. From out of the darkness more bullets came at him.
