more slowly, resolutely in her wake. Eve, then Gideon. I wondered how they would do this.
They didn’t know which flat Mulder used, nor could they easily get through the communal front door.
The pair of them skulked in the entrance porch. They peered up and down the road, but saw nothing suspicious in a big parked Merc at the end of the street with a driver conspicuously reading a paper. I shifted the paper, in time to see Gideon take a couple of steps into the street, turn round and run back into the porch. A crash told me he’d hit the door and the door, presumably, had lost. He didn’t come out. Eve looked round again and disappeared through the porch. They were in. But they still had to find the right flat. I guessed their approach would be as subtle as their door entry technique.
The seconds dragged into minutes. How long did it take to knock on ten doors? I caught a movement in my mirror; a troop of soldiers – six, no eight – was collecting outside the District Controller’s office. An officer barked orders.
They snapped to attention, then were dismissed. Four stayed behind and began to take up duty positions. The other four, their shift over, walked smartly off in my direction and broke ranks. They slung their weapons casually over their shoulders and pulled out fags. It was a scene echoed in every army on earth. The changing of the guard.
They were ten yards from the corner of the Controller’s street when the sound of the first shots reached me.
It was though they’d been electrocuted. The fags went flying and the rifles came round into their hands. They sank to their knees, waiting to see who was firing at them. There was a further shot, then cries from round the corner. The four men dashed forward and peered round. Two took up positions, one kneeling, the other standing above him, weapons to their shoulders. The other two ran for the furthest side of the street and took up the same stance. When Eve and her wild man ran out with smoking guns in hand they’d be shot down like rabbits. The cries had turned to good old-fashioned screams now, and were clearly coming from the flats.
Sure enough, like a bad gangster movie, Eve ran on to the pavement with a pistol in her hand. She turned back to wait for Gideon just as one of the soldiers shouted in Russian at her. Whatever the words, it was clear he wanted her to stop, disarm and put her hands above her pretty head or they would blow it off.
Before she could comply, the big man lumbered out. She screamed at him and they both dived for the cover of the parked car. That was enough for the squaddies who’d lost a number of their mates fighting their way into Berlin. They let rip with a first round which pinned down Eve and Gideon. In case the soldiers needed any more convincing, a big arm broke cover and sent a couple of bullets whizzing towards them. The firing squad opened up.
Another figure suddenly took centre stage. A young man ran out, waving his fists and screaming for help. If he wanted to die his timing was perfect. He was right in the crossfire and took at least two bullets before pitching into the gutter and lying there, twitching and groaning.
A smart guy with a lust for life and a borrowed car of some distinction would have eased said car into gear and headed for the quiet side of town. Maybe the country. Check out the lake. Do some fishing. A smart guy.
I dropped the clutch, put it into first, revved the engine and let the gears bite. The big nose shot up and we lurched away. I spun the wheel even as I crashed into second. By the time I was passing the first open-mouthed soldier I was doing over twenty. By the time I was level with the man rolling in his own blood I was at thirty. I hit the brakes next to the parked car and squealed to a halt. I shouted out the window.
“Get your stupid backsides over here!”
Two astonished faces peered over the bonnet of the parked car. They saw who it was and ducked down again. I looked in my mirror. The four soldiers were moving forward, firing from the shoulder as they came. The first bullets punched into the boot with a loud thunk. I ducked just as a bullet smashed the rear screen.
Eve and Gideon appeared in front of me and darted to either side of the car. The rear doors opened backwards and gave cover. Eve got hers open and dived in.
Gideon didn’t. He took position on the running board, with one big hand holding on through the window. He began shooting at our pursuers. I slammed into gear, hit the accelerator and stalled the damn thing.
I glanced back. The soldiers were flat on the ground. One of them was curled up clutching his belly. The others were getting their shots in. I prayed I hadn’t flooded the carb. I switched off, then on again, pressed the starter. It stuttered and rumbled in protest, so I tried again, foot well clear of the accelerator. The engine coughed, then roared and gave a great belch of smoke from its exhaust. I found first gear, worked the pedals and shot off, with bullets chasing us. The madman on my running board continued firing and cursing at them and their ancestors while clinging on for dear life. I hurled us round the corner, stopped and screamed, “Get in, you big bastard!”
The big bastard duly obliged and I began to head north, round the Red sector back towards either the American or British.
“You’ve been hit! Oh god, Gideon, you’ve been hit!”
Not a word of thanks, just concern for her partner in crime. I looked in the mirror. Gideon was holding his shoulder. Blood was oozing through his fingers.
His face was slate grey.
“Where can we go? Is there a safe house? Did you have a plan?” I shouted.
“Don’t shout at me!” she shouted.
“Why the hell fire shouldn’t I?” I yelled as the adrenalin washed through me.
“You’re a bloody madwoman! That’s what you are. And I’m even dafter!”
We glared at each other in the mirror for a long few seconds. She sat back. I heard a rip and saw she’d torn off a bit of blouse. She stuffed it on to the big man’s wound. He groaned.
“We didn’t plan this.”
“You mean you didn’t have an exit plan?”
She glowered at me. “Can you get us to the French sector?”
“I can if all the checkpoint guards are blind drunk. You look like a pair of assassins. And there might a be a wee problem explaining bullet holes, a smashed window, and a man bleeding to death in the back seat.”
“He’s not dying!”
We sped on, aware that the soldiers would have run back to the Controller’s office. They would be able to radio or phone ahead. They might already be waiting for us.
“Did you get him?” I asked and looked for her eyes. She wouldn’t oblige.
“Yes.”
“Feel better?”
“Shut up. Just shut up!”
“Who was the screamer?”
“He was with Mulder. His little friend. A cosy little love nest.”
There was a groan from Gideon. “Filth,” he managed before passing out.
We were on the Unter den Linden now, hammering towards the Gate. I looked ahead and could see a flurry of activity at the Russian checkpoint. They were moving a jeep across the exit. Two groups of soldiers were setting themselves up either side to man the gaps. I gunned the pedal and felt the great engine roar. Its bonnet rose up like a ship meeting a big wave, then settled down as the springs rebalanced.
We were a hundred yards away and I could see the officer shouting out commands.
The soldiers settled into firing positions, aiming straight at us.
“Get down!” I shouted to the back seat. I lowered my own head so I was peering though the rim of the wooden steering wheel.
The officer shouted again. Some men brought their guns up. Some began to get to their feet and move to the side. The officer screamed at them and suddenly bullets were cracking towards us. The screen smashed and metal pinged on metal.
There was a big bang and an awful grinding noise. The fan had taken a hit.
I was twenty yards away. I swung the nose towards the smaller of the two groups, the one furthest from the shouting officer. They saw me and leapt away like salmon heading to their spawning pool. I clipped the rear end of the jeep sending the two soldiers on it flying. Our momentum lifted the jeep like a cardboard box and flung it against the great slabs of the Brandenburg Gate. We tore through the arch ripping off the remaining wing mirror as we went.
The Americans weren’t lined up in force but had been attracted by the sounds of shooting. I wasn’t about to
