the Mauser from his hand. It hit the wall and fell onto the bottom step. As Steiner reached for it, Hardt chopped him across the back of the neck and he slumped forward on to his face.
Chavasse jumped down into the corridor, and Hardt gave him a warning cry as a man in a white jacket moved out of the open door of room number twelve and launched himself forward.
He must have been at least six and a half feet tall, with a scarred, hairless head and a face out of a nightmare. As Chavasse tried to duck, hands reached out and fastened around his throat.
Remembering Gisela’s warning, Chavasse decided this must be the terrible Karl. He allowed himself to go limp, and spit in the German’s face. Karl instinctively released his hold, and Chavasse lifted his knee into the man’s crotch.
Karl grunted with pain, but kept on his feet. His left arm lashed out, smashing Hardt against the wall, and with his right arm he reached for Chavasse. Chavasse twisted the arm around in a shoulder lock, exerting all his strength, and Karl screamed. Still keeping that terrible hold in position, Chavasse ran him forward along the corridor toward the head of the stairs. A few feet from the rail, he released the arm and kicked the German with all his force behind the left knee. Karl went headfirst over the wrought-iron rail of the landing.
As his body crunched against the marble floor of the hall, the doors of the lounge were thrown open and a woman screamed. Chavasse paused long enough to retrieve Steiner’s automatic from the floor. Hardt was already at the end of the corridor, pressing the button for the elevator.
As Chavasse arrived, the doors opened and they jumped inside. A moment later, they were running through the cellars to the boiler house. Faintly from the interior of the house came the sound of disorder, and they started across the lawn toward the wall.
Behind them, a door was flung open and there was a cry. As Chavasse entered the bushes, he heard the muted report of a silenced automatic. He slipped the Mauser into his pocket and ran on.
When they reached the wall, Hardt cupped his hands into a stirrup and braced himself. Chavasse didn’t argue. He took the offer and jumped for the top of the wall, Hardt pushing him upward.
His hands clawed across the sacking and as he pulled himself over, glass sliced its way through, pain knifing into him in a wave of agony.
He swung himself onto the roof of the summer house, and then turned quickly and leaned across the sack, reaching a hand down to Hardt. Hardt moved a little way back and then ran forward and jumped. Chavasse caught hold of his right wrist and held on.
As Hardt secured a grip on the edge of the wall, there was a crashing through the bushes below and then another muted cough, as the silenced automatic was fired again at point-blank range.
Hardt started to slip. “He’s got me in the shoulder,” he said. For a moment longer, he seemed to make an effort to hang on. Chavasse desperately tried to pull him up, but it was no use. “Get out of here, you fool,” Hardt grunted, and fell.
As he crashed into the bushes below, there was a cry of triumph from his pursuers. Chavasse didn’t wait to hear any more. He jumped down to the ground from the roof of the summer house and staggered through the bushes toward the path.
He turned out of the gates and ran along the pavement, and the pain in his arms was intense. He wrenched open the door of the Volkswagen and slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.
“Let’s get out of here!” he gasped.
Anna turned in alarm. “What about Mark?”
“Don’t argue—just get this thing moving.”
For a moment, it seemed as if she intended to protest, and then she thought better of it and switched on the engine. A few seconds later, they were turning into the main road and she moved into top gear and drove very fast toward the center of Hamburg.
After a while, she said, “Are you all right?”
He nodded. “I’ve
Chavasse jumped down into the corridor, and Hardt gave him a warning cry as a man in a white jacket moved out of the open door of room number twelve and launched himself forward.
He must have been at least six and a half feet tall, with a scarred, hairless head and a face out of a nightmare. As Chavasse tried to duck, hands reached out and fastened around his throat.
Remembering Gisela’s warning, Chavasse decided this must be the terrible Karl. He allowed himself to go limp, and spit in the German’s face. Karl instinctively released his hold, and Chavasse lifted his knee into the man’s crotch.
Karl grunted with pain, but kept on his feet. His left arm lashed out, smashing Hardt against the wall, and with his right arm he reached for Chavasse. Chavasse twisted the arm around in a shoulder lock, exerting all his strength, and Karl screamed. Still keeping that terrible hold in position, Chavasse ran him forward along the corridor toward the head of the stairs. A few feet from the rail, he released the arm and kicked the German with all his force behind the left knee. Karl went headfirst over the wrought-iron rail of the landing.
As his body crunched against the marble floor of the hall, the doors of the lounge were thrown open and a woman screamed. Chavasse paused long enough to retrieve Steiner’s automatic from the floor. Hardt was already at the end of the corridor, pressing the button for the elevator.
As Chavasse arrived, the doors opened and they jumped inside. A moment later, they were running through the cellars to the boiler house. Faintly from the interior of the house came the sound of disorder, and they started across the lawn toward the wall.
Behind them, a door was flung open and there was a cry. As Chavasse entered the bushes, he heard the muted report of a silenced automatic. He slipped the Mauser into his pocket and ran on.
When they reached the wall, Hardt cupped his hands into a stirrup and braced himself. Chavasse didn’t argue. He took the offer and jumped for the top of the wall, Hardt pushing him upward.
His hands clawed across the sacking and as he pulled himself over, glass sliced its way through, pain knifing into him in a wave of agony.
He swung himself onto the roof of the summer house, and then turned quickly and leaned across the sack, reaching a hand down to Hardt. Hardt moved a little way back and then ran forward and jumped. Chavasse caught hold of his right wrist and held on.
As Hardt secured a grip on the edge of the wall, there was a crashing through the bushes below and then another muted cough, as the silenced automatic was fired again at point-blank range.
Hardt started to slip. “He’s got me in the shoulder,” he said. For a moment longer, he seemed to make an effort to hang on. Chavasse desperately tried to pull him up, but it was no use. “Get out of here, you fool,” Hardt grunted, and fell.
As he crashed into the bushes below, there was a cry of triumph from his pursuers. Chavasse didn’t wait to hear any more. He jumped down to the ground from the roof of the summer house and staggered through the bushes toward the path.
He turned out of the gates and ran along the pavement, and the pain in his arms was intense. He wrenched open the door of the Volkswagen and slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.
“Let’s get out of here!” he gasped.
Anna turned in alarm. “What about Mark?”
“Don’t argue—just get this thing moving.”
For a moment, it seemed as if she intended to protest, and then she thought better of it and switched on the engine. A few seconds later, they were turning into the main road and she moved into top gear and drove very fast toward the center of Hamburg.
After a while, she said, “Are you all right?”
He nodded. “I’ve
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