It was enough to force him out of his defensive posture. He reached to the side and grasped the metal tray, slamming it over the policeman’s head. The officer went tumbling backwards, the rage in his bulging eyes intense enough for Frederich to anticipate the worst. It came when he took his gun out of its holster. Frederich had a split second to act. He lunged at the man with all his might and landed on top of him, softening his fall somewhat. The impact on his leg was too much. He yelled out like a madman, the pain so great that he went out of his mind. When his focus returned, the policeman was on top of him with his fingers around Frederich’s throat. As Frederich struggled to draw oxygen, it came rushing up, obliterating any sense of reason Frederich was holding onto. At that moment, Camille came from behind and tried to pull the man off. Her sudden appearance caused the policeman’s grip to loosen, and Frederich saw his opening. He slapped the man’s arms to the side, lifted his torso and punched him in the throat. The man rolled over and grasped his neck while yelling in pain. Frederich quickly sat up and rolled over, hot in the face and panting hard. There was room for nothing else; he wanted to slaughter the bastard. The metal tray was sitting at his side with a dint in the middle. He picked it up and brought it down hard on top of the policeman’s head. Then again. His entire body was on fire. It had consumed him, compelling him to beat his foe to a pulp.
“Stop it!” yelled Camille when Frederich was preparing to land a third blow. “Don’t kill him!”
The intensity in her voice caused Frederich to turn his head automatically. He caught her eyes, which were begging him to stop. He remained frozen with his arms raised, trembling all over. The accumulated energy in his body was immense. The feeling it gave him was infernal, its instruction was clear; kill that son of a bitch!
“No,” said Camille, shaking her head. “Don’t do it. I beg you.”
The vigour in her eyes drew him in, and was compelling enough to draw him away from the inferno inside. The pressure in his head eased. The policeman’s groans found their way to his consciousness. Feeling came back to his shoulders and arms, and then to his stomach and legs. Tears filled his eyes as he thawed. The rage eased back to its source. He lowered the tray and looked down at the barely conscious policeman, who had blood running down his entire face. Camille approached and cautiously reached out and took hold of Frederich’s weapon. Frederich held it tight for a moment, then released his grip. Camille carefully placed the piece of metal on the ground then kneeled beside him and the policeman.
“It’s fine,” she said, speaking softly. “Let me look at him.”
Frederich inhaled deeply as he reacquainted himself with his body, then wiped the tears from his eyes. He flipped over, grunting from the pain in his leg. Camille turned to the police officer and placed her ear next to his mouth. She then stood up and went over to the door and opened it. Frederich could hear her steps disappearing down the hallway. Moments later she came back with another doctor, a bright-eyed, dark-skinned woman in her twenties, who looked down at the scene with shocked fascination. Camille said something to her in French, and the doctor went to tend to the police officer. Camille returned to Frederich’s side and began inspecting his leg.
“Are you ok?” she asked.
Frederich nodded while in a daze. By now he had numbed out the pain; the light-headedness, the adrenaline and the throbbing blending together into a cohesive, dissociative state. So when the two burly men suddenly appeared at the door, they looked like merchants of death, dressed in all-black from head to toe and their faces cold and stiff. Frederich could do nothing, only gaze up at them helplessly. The men calmly inspected the scene before turning their attention to Frederich.
“Abel,” said one of the men. “Scheffler sent us. Let’s go.”
The man bent down and grasped Frederich’s wrist, but Camille intercepted him.
“Leave him alone,” she ordered.
The soldier responded by reaching into his jacket pocket.
“No,” said Frederich to the man before turning to Camille. “They’re with me. If you don’t let them take me, they’ll kill you.”
Camille understood immediately. Whatever fight she still had immediately dispersed, and she frowned and lowered her head. She retreated backwards, appearing aged and pale. The soldier did not waste time, grasping Frederich by the armpits and lifting him with one smooth motion. The other soldier stepped forward and the two men used their shoulders to support him with each arm.
Frederich gazed at the weary Camille, who was now sitting on the floor. Too much had happened for him to know what to say. Something significant in him had shifted; he knew that much. He managed to conjure a weak smile and nodded his thanks to the unrelenting woman who had bravely fought to save his life. Camille blinked several times but did not respond. Using his one good leg for support, Frederich let the soldiers drag him forward as they walked out in unison and crossed the hallway. They pushed the glass door open and received a shocked stare from the man at reception as they continued toward the elevator. The receptionist looked on for a
