“Is he alright?” said someone, as a man crouched down to check on Bibby.
Bibby groaned on cue.
“Yeah, he’s alright,” said the man.
A young guy with blonde spikes, grey jeans and a white t-shirt lowered his phone, grinning widely with his eyes ablaze.
“Holy shit, that was awesome!” he yelled out.
Frederich’s captors loosened their grip, leaving him free to stand on his own. Frederich looked around, studying the incredulous, slack-jawed faces of the crowd.
“Who is this guy? Anyone seen him before?”
“Nah, never seen him.”
“What’s your name?” asked the excited young man with the blonde spikes.
“Shit, Liam’s calling the cops,” said a voice in the crowd.
Frederich shook himself out of his daze and broke away. He picked up his pistol from the ground then staggered across the road and returned to his car, remembering what had caused him to snap in the first place. He switched on the engine and drove off. When the adrenaline subsided further his knuckles began throbbing with pain. Dammit. Bibby was still alive, he realised. That was out of his control now. The killing window was gone. The priority was Ida. He took his phone out and dialled her number but got no answer. He tried again with the same result. Then he tapped into his messages and opened the web address Gerricks had sent him. The map of Paris appeared, along with a blue dot on the west side. He closed the screen then dialled Gerricks.
“Yeah,” said Gerricks, after the phone rang for a long time.
“I need to get to Paris right away,” said Frederich.
There was a short pause.
“We’ve got a plane at London City Airport. I’ll tell them you’re coming.”
16
The tip of Ida’s finger rubbed against the edge of the cocktail glass in a circular motion while she ruminated about the danger she was in. The League Of Reckoning had not been as helpful as she had hoped. The man who answered her call said he would ‘see what he could do.’ ‘No promises,’ he had declared before hanging up. For now, Ida had to assume she was alone. A throbbing pressure drummed in her ears, and her legs felt weak. What was Vidrik doing in Paris, and how had he found her?
Tina had her arms crossed and was facing away while a severely drunken Claudia chewed her ear off. She sighed and abruptly excused herself with a raised palm and approached Ida.
“Time to go,” she said curtly. “He’s here. He’s waiting for us downstairs.”
Ida’s finger froze on the edge of the cocktail glass. The floor beneath her fell. Oh, no. How could she have missed it? There was no time to ask why; she only knew that if she went downstairs with Tina, she would be dead. She looked around frantically without moving her head, and spotted Terence standing in the distance alone with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a lit cigarette. She walked away from Tina without saying anything and placed her glass on the bar before approaching Terence, who looked up as she came near.
“I think it’s time to go home,” she said.
Terence held her gaze for several seconds then tossed the cigarette away. He rotated his body and held his elbow out, and Ida clasped onto it. Together they made for the elevator, during which Ida turned in Tina’s direction. What she saw almost made her jump. Tina’s entire face had changed to the point that Ida could not recognise it. Terence pressed the elevator button while Ida remained gripped by Tina’s fiery stare. The door opened, and Ida and Terence got in. Tina stood in place, her glare so penetrating and hateful looking that it choked the air out of Ida. The door then closed shut, finally allowing Ida to release herself from Tina’s grasp, and she was able to breathe again.
“What the hell was he thinking!” yelled Scheffler, slamming his fist on the desk.
“No idea,” said Gerricks, cowering slightly and leaning away before straightening again. “But it’s going viral over social media. A hundred million views and counting. The way he tore that Bibby guy up got people talking. I don’t blame them. Look at how quick he’s moving, how crisp his punches are. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“You done?” said Scheffler, giving Gerricks a hard stare.
“It’s not a good look for us,” said Gerricks, lowering his head.
“No, it’s not,” said Scheffler while massaging his temple.
Scheffler was already on edge after Barcelona. Now this. Damn it, Abel.
“We’ll have to deal with it later,” he said. “What’s happening on the radar?”
“Our lieutenants sent word that they’re ready and in place,” said Gerricks.
Scheffler peeped at the clock. 2:57 am. He began pacing from side to side while watching the surveillance screens, which were flicking between suburban houses, mansions, apartment blocks, hotels and warehouses. Most locations remained eerily motionless. 2:58 am. He stopped pacing and started bouncing on his toes, then ran his hand through his hair. I should be out there. 2:59 am. The first soldiers appeared on the screen, creeping forward from their positions, dressed in black and armed with rifles. Scheffler clenched his jaw.
Piotr gripped the knuckle duster tightly. Ralph’s battering ram weighed more than fifteen kilos, and Ralph was a natural brute, so it was in the right hands. Ralph turned to Piotr and they exchanged nods in the dark, before Ralph swung his arms back and smashed into the door just below the lock. The porch quaked beneath Piotr’s feet while sections of the door cracked open. Ralph immediately swung the red tube of steel back again and this time managed to smash the door open.
The battering ram fell to the ground and Ralph pulled out his pistol. He stood out of the way and nudged the destroyed door open then waited for Piotr to enter
