was following them did not glance over the side. Paul had managed a look as the near door's lock was shot through and someone crawled inside. 'Knoll,' he'd mouthed. But for the last minute--silence. Not one sound.
Her arms ached. 'I can't hold on much longer,' she whispered.
Paul ventured another look. 'There's nobody there. Climb.' He swung his right leg out, then pulled himself up and over the railing. He reached down and helped her up. Once on firm ground, they both leaned against the cold stone and stared down at the river below.
'I can't believe we did that,' she said.
'I've got to be out of my damn mind to be in the middle of this.'
'As I remember, you're the one who dragged me up here.'
'Don't remind me.'
Paul inched the half-closed door open and she followed him inside. The room was an elegant library lined floor to ceiling with inlaid bookshelves of shiny walnut, everything gilded in baroque style. They passed through a wrought-iron gate and quickly crossed a slick parquet floor. Two huge wooden globes flanked either side, set in recesses between the shelves. The warm air smelled of musty leather. A yellow rectangle of light extended from a doorway at the far end where the top of another staircase was visible.
Paul motioned ahead. 'That way.'
'Knoll came in here,' she reminded.
'I know. But he had to have taken off after that shootout.'
She followed Paul out of the library and down the staircase. A darkened corridor below immediately wound to the right. She hoped there was a door somewhere that led back to the inner courtyard. At the bottom she saw Paul turn, then a black shadow shot from the darkness and Paul's body folded to the floor.
A gloved hand encircled her neck.
She was lifted from the last step and slammed against the wall. Her vision blurred, then refocused, and she was staring straight into the feral eyes of Christian Knoll, a knife blade pinched into the bottom of her chin.
'That your ex-husband?' His words came in a throaty whisper, his breath warm. 'Come to your rescue?'
Her eyes stole a look at Paul sprawled across the stone. He wasn't moving. She looked back at Knoll.
'You may find this hard to believe, but I have no complaint with you, Frau Cutler. Killing you would certainly be the most efficient thing to do, but not necessarily the smartest. First your father dies, then you. And so close together. No. As much as I might want to rid myself of a nuisance, I cannot kill you. So, please. Go home.'
'You killed . . . my father.'
'Your father understood the risks he took in life. Even seemed to appreciate them. You should have taken the advice he offered. I am quite familiar with Phaethon's story. A fascinating tale about impulsive ways. The helplessness of the elder generation trying to teach the younger. What did the Sun God tell Phaethon? 'Look in my face and if you could, look in my heart, see there a father's anxious blood and passion.' Heed the warning, Frau Cutler. My mind can easily change. Would you want those precious children of yours to cry tears of amber if a lightning bolt struck you dead?'
She suddenly visualized her father lying in the casket. She'd buried him in his tweed jacket, the same one he'd worn to court the day she changed his name. She'd never believed that he merely fell down the stairs. Now his killer was here, pressed against her. She shifted and tried to knee Knoll in the crotch, but the hand around her neck tightened, and the knife tip broke the skin.
She gasped and sucked in a deep breath.
'Now, now, Frau Cutler. None of that.'
Knoll released his right hand from her throat, but kept the blade firm to her chin. He let his palm travel the length of her body to her crotch, and he cupped her in a tight clasp. 'I could tell that you found me intriguing.' His hand drifted up and massaged her breasts through the sweater. 'A shame I don't have more time.' He suddenly clamped tight on her right breast and twisted.
The pain stiffened her.
'Take my advice, Frau Cutler. Go home. Have a happy life. Raise your kids.' His head motioned to Paul. 'Please your ex-husband and forget about all this. It does not concern you.'
She managed through the pain to say again, 'You . . . killed my . . . father.'
His right hand released her breast and throttled her neck. 'The next time we meet, I will slit your throat. Do you understand?'
She said nothing. The knife tip moved deeper. She wanted to scream but couldn't.
'Do you understand?' Knoll slowly asked.
'Yes,' she mouthed.
He withdrew the blade. Blood trickled from the wound in her neck. She stood rigid against the wall. She was concerned about Paul. He still hadn't moved.
'Do as I say, Frau Cutler.'
He turned to leave.
She lunged at him.
Knoll's right hand arched up and the knife handle caught her square below the right temple. Her eyes flashed white. The corridor spun. Bile erupted in her throat. Then she saw Marla and Brent rushing toward her, arms outstretched, their mouths moving but the words inaudible as blackness overtook them.
PART FOUR
FORTY-SEVEN
11:50 p.m.
Suzanne raced down the incline back to stod. Along the way she passed three late-night strollers to whom she paid no attention. Her only concern at the moment was to get back to the Gebler, grab her belongings, and disappear. She needed the safety of the Czech border and Castle Loukov, at least until Loring and Fellner could resolve this matter, member to member.
Knoll's sudden appearance had again caught her off guard. The bastard was determined, she'd give him that. She decided not to underestimate him a third time. If Knoll was in Stod, she needed to get out of the country.
She found the street below and trotted toward her hotel.
Thank god she'd packed. Everything was ready to go, her plan all along had been to leave after tending to Alfred Grumer. Fewer streetlamps illuminated the way than earlier, but the Gebler's entrance was well lit. She entered the lobby. A night clerk behind the front desk was pounding a keyboard and never looked up. Upstairs, she shouldered her travel bag and threw some euros on the bed, more than enough to cover the bill. No time for any formal checkout.
She took a moment and caught her breath. Maybe Knoll didn't know where she was staying. Stod was a big town with lots of inns. No, she decided. He knew and was probably headed here right now. She thought back to the abbey's terrace. Knoll was after whoever else had been in the church. And that other presence was likewise of concern to her. But she wasn't the one who tossed a knife into Grumer's chest. Whatever he or she saw was more Knoll's problem than hers.
In her travel bag she found a fresh clip for the Sauer and popped it into place. She then pocketed the gun. Downstairs, she stepped quickly through the lobby and out the front door. She looked right, then left. Knoll was a hundred yards away, moving straight in her direction. When he spotted her, he started to run. She bolted ahead, down a deserted side street, and rounded a corner. She kept running and quickly turned two more corners. Maybe she could lose Knoll in the maze of venerable buildings that all looked alike.
She stopped. Her breathing came hard.
Footsteps echoed from behind.
Coming closer.
