In her direction.
Knoll's breath condensed in the dry air. His timing had been nearly perfect. A few moments more and he would have caught the bitch.
He turned a corner and halted.
Only silence.
Interesting.
He gripped the CZ and stepped cautiously forward. He'd studied the layout of the old part of town yesterday from a map obtained at the tourist bureau. The buildings covered blocks interrupted by narrow cobbled streets and even tighter alleys. Steep roofs, dormer windows, and arcades adorned with mythological creatures loomed everywhere. It would be easy to get lost in the warren of sameness. But he knew exactly where Danzer's slate-gray Porsche was parked. He'd found it yesterday on a reconnaissance mission, knowing that she would certainly have a quick means of transportation nearby.
So he started in that direction, the same direction the running footsteps had initially been headed.
He stopped fast.
Still, only silence.
No more soles slapping cobblestone in the distance.
He inched forward and turned a corner. The street ahead was a straight line, the only glow breaking the darkness loomed at the far end. Halfway, an intersection appeared. The lane to the right stretched about thirty meters, dead-ending into what looked like the back of a shop. A small black Dumpster rested just to the right, a parked BMW to its left. It was more an alley than a street. He stepped to the end and checked the car. Locked. He lifted the Dumpster lid. Empty except for newspapers and a few trash bags that smelled of rotting fish. He tried the doorknobs for the building. Locked.
He stepped back to the main street, gun in hand, and turned right.
Suzanne waited a full five minutes before slithering out from under the BMW. She'd wiggled beneath, thankful for her petite size. Just in case, though, the 9mm was ready. But Knoll had not looked underneath, seemingly satisfied the car doors were locked, the alley apparently empty.
She retrieved her travel bag from the Dumpster where she'd stashed it under some newspapers. A lingering odor of fish accompanied the leather bag. She pocketed the Sauer and decided to use another route to her car, perhaps even leaving the damn thing and renting another in the morning. She could always come back later and retrieve the Porsche after this was settled. An Acquisitor's job was to do what his or her employer desired. Even though Loring had told her to handle things at her discretion, the situation with Knoll and the risk of drawing attention was escalating. Also, killing her opponent was proving far more difficult than she'd first imagined.
She stopped in the alley before the intersection and listened a few seconds more.
No footsteps could be heard.
She scooted out and instead of turning right as Knoll had done, she went left.
From a darkened doorway, a fist slammed her forehead. Her neck whipped back, then recoiled. The pain momentarily froze her, and a hand encircled her throat. Her body was lifted, then pounded into a damp stone wall. A sickening smile filled Christian Knoll's Nordic face.
'How stupid do you take me for?' Knoll said, inches from her.
'Come on, Christian. Can't we settle this? I meant what I said back at the abbey. Let's go back to your room. Remember France? That was fun.'
'What's so important that you have to kill me?' His grip tightened.
'If I say, you'll let me go?'
'I am in no mood, Suzanne. My orders are to do as I please, and I believe you know what pleases me.'
Buy some time, she thought. 'Who else was in the church?'
'The Cutlers. It seems they have a continuing interest. Care to enlighten me?'
'How would I know?'
'I believe you know a lot more than you are willing to state.' He squeezed harder.
'Okay. Okay, Christian. It's the Amber Room.'
'What of it?'
'That chamber was where Hitler hid it. I had to be sure, that's why I'm here.'
'Sure of what?'
'You know Loring's interest. He's looking for it, just like Fellner. We're just privileged to information you don't have.'
'Such as?'
'You know I can't say. This isn't fair.'
'And blowing me up is? What is going on, Suzanne? This is no ordinary quest.'
'I'll make you a deal. Let's go back to your room. We'll talk after. Promise.'
'I'm not feeling amorous right now.'
But the words had the desired effect. The hand around her throat relaxed just enough for her to pivot off the wall and knee him solidly in the groin.
Knoll crumpled in pain.
She kicked him once more between the legs, driving the toe of her boot into his cupped hands. Her adversary crashed to the cobbles and she rushed away.
Blinding pain racked Knoll's groin. Tears welled in his eyes. The bitch had done it again. Quick as a cat. He'd relaxed only a second to readjust his grip. But enough for her to strike.
Damn.
He stared up to see Danzer disappearing down the street. His groin ached. He was having trouble breathing, but he could probably still take a shot at her. He reached for the pistol in his pocket, then stopped.
No need.
He'd tend to her tomorrow.
FORTY-EIGHT
Wednesday, May 21, 1:30 a.m.
Rachel opened her eyes. Her head pounded. Her stomach churned as if from seasickness. The stench of vomit rose from her sweater. Her chin ached. She gently traced the outline of a blood pimple, then remembered the knifepoint boring in.
Hovering over her was a man dressed in the brown cassock of a monk. His face was old and withered, and he watched her intently with anxious watery eyes. She was propped against the wall, in the corridor where Knoll had attacked her.
'What happened?' she asked.
'You tell us,' said Wayland McKoy.
She looked beyond the monk and tried to focus. 'I can't see you, McKoy.'
The big man stepped closer.
'Where's Paul?' she asked.
'Over there, still out. Got a nasty blow to the head. You okay?'
'Yeah. Just have one monster headache.'
'I bet you do. The monks heard some shots from the church. They found Grumer, then you two. Your room keys led them to the Garni and I hustled up here.'
'We need a doctor.'
'That monk is a doctor. He says your head's fine. No cracks.'
'How about Grumer?' she asked.
