with his hands and returned his tongue to her crotch.
'Oh, Paul,' she whispered.
'I told you it would not be unpleasant,' he mouthed.
He raised up and prepared to mount her.
Paul turned at the fourth-floor landing and dashed up the last flight of stairs. He was winded, his legs ached, but Rachel was up there and needed him. At the top he saw Suzanne's body, her face obliterated by two bullet holes. The sight was sickening, but he thought of Chapaev and his parents and felt nothing but satisfaction. Then a thought electrified his brain.
Who the hell shot her?
Rachel?
Moaning resonated from down the hall.
Then his name.
He inched his way to the bedchamber. The door was flung back, its top hinge splintered away. He gazed into the semidarkness. His eyes adjusted. A man was on the bed, and Rachel was beneath him.
Christian Knoll.
Paul went berserk and rushed the length of the room, catapulting himself onto Knoll. Momentum rolled them off the bed and to the floor. He landed on his right shoulder, the same one injured last night in Stod. Pain seared through his right arm. He raised a fist and brought it down. Knoll was bigger and more experienced, but he was mad as hell. He swung his fist again and Knoll's nose gave way. Knoll howled, but he pivoted and used his legs to send Paul flying up and over him. Knoll curled himself forward and rolled out of the way, then pounced, ramming a fist hard into Paul's chest. He gagged on his own saliva and tried to catch a breath.
Knoll stood and yanked him from the floor. A fist slammed into his jaw, sending him reeling into the center of the room. He was dazed, trying hard to focus on the spinning furniture and the tall man approaching. Forty-one years old, and this was his first fistfight. Odd, he thought, the sensation of being slugged. Suddenly, the image of Knoll's naked ass on top of Rachel flashed through his mind. He caught hold of himself, grabbed a breath, and lunged, met only by another fist to the stomach.
Damn. He was losing the fight.
Knoll caught him by the hair.
'You interrupted my pleasure, and I do not like being interrupted. Did you not notice Fraulein Danzer on the way in? She interrupted also.'
'Fuck you, Knoll.'
'So defiant. And brave. But weak.'
Knoll released his grip and slugged him. Blood gushed from his nose. The momentum of the blow sent Paul tumbling through the open doorway, out into the hall. He was having trouble seeing out of his right eye.
He couldn't take much more.
Rachel was vaguely aware that something was happening, but it was all so confusing. One moment it seemed as if Paul were making love to her, and the next she heard fighting and bodies being flung across the room. Then a voice.
She raised up.
Paul's face came into view, then another.
Knoll.
Paul was clothed, but Knoll was naked from the waist down. She tried to assimilate the information, making sense of what at first seemed impossible.
She heard Knoll's voice.
'You interrupted my pleasure, and I do not like being interrupted. Did you not notice Fraulein Danzer on the way in? She interrupted also.'
'Fuck you, Knoll.'
'So defiant. And brave. But weak.'
Then Knoll slugged Paul in the face. Blood splattered and Paul rolled out into the hall. Knoll followed. She tried to stand from the bed, but collapsed to the floor. She slowly pulled herself across the parquet toward the doorway. Along the way she crossed a pair of pants, some shoes, and something hard.
She reached down. There were two guns. She ignored both and kept crawling. At the doorway she pulled herself up to her feet.
Knoll was moving toward Paul.
Paul realized this was the end. He could hardly breathe from the blows to his chest, his lungs were constricted, most likely several ribs were broken. His face ached beyond belief and he was having trouble seeing. Knoll was merely toying with him. He was no match for this professional. He staggered to his feet, using the stone banister for support, not unlike the banister from the night before at the abbey high above Stod. He gazed down four stories and felt like vomiting. The glow from the bright crystal chandelier burned his eyes, and he squinted. His body was suddenly yanked back and twirled around. Knoll's smiling face gleamed at him.
'Had enough, Cutler?'
All he could think to do was spit in Knoll's face. The German jumped back and then lunged at him, ramming a fist into his stomach. Spit and blood coughed up as he gasped for air. Knoll brought another blow down across the nape of his neck, slamming him to the floor. Knoll reached down and pulled him to his feet. His legs were rubber. He propped him against the railing, then stepped back and twitched his right arm.
A knife appeared.
Rachel watched through fogged eyes as Knoll battered Paul. She wanted to help but barely had the strength to stand. Her face ached, the swelling on her right cheek beginning to affect her vision. Her head pounded. Everything was blurred and spinning. Her stomach tossed like on a boat on a stormy sea.
Paul's body crumbled to the floor. Knoll reached down and yanked him to his feet. She suddenly thought of the two guns and stumbled back to the center of the bedchamber. She groped the floor until she found one of the pistols, then staggered back to the doorway.
Knoll had stepped away from Paul, his back to her. A knife appeared in the German's hand and she knew there'd be only a second to react. Knoll moved toward Paul, the blade rising. She pointed the gun and, for the first time in her life, pulled a trigger. The bullet left the barrel, not with a retort, but with the muffled pop like when balloons burst at one of the kids' birthday parties.
The bullet plowed into Knoll's back.
He stumbled and turned, then moved toward her with the knife.
She fired again. The gun bucked in her hand, but she held tight.
Then again.
And again.
Bullets ripped through Knoll's chest. She thought of what must have happened in the bed and lowered her aim, firing three more shots at his exposed crotch. Knoll screamed, but somehow kept standing. He stared down at blood pouring from his wounds. He staggered toward the banister. She was about to fire again when Paul suddenly lunged forward, shoving the half-naked German over the top and out into the open air of the four-story foyer. She fell toward the railing and glanced over just as Knoll's body found the chandelier and ripped the massive crystal fixture from the ceiling. Blue sparks exploded, Knoll and glass free-falling to the marble below, a thud from the body accompanying the shattering of glass, the crystal flung about and then tinkling to the floor like the applause that lingered after a symphony's climax.
Then, silence. Not a sound.
Below, Knoll did not move.
She looked at Paul. 'You okay?'
He said nothing, but wrapped his arm around her. She reached over and gently caressed his face. 'Does it hurt as bad as it looks?' she asked.
'Damn right.'
