The Paper Factory (Michael Berg Book 1) by Norrie Sinclair Page B
Authors: Norrie Sinclair
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pulled the door shut. He heard an almighty crash as the big man behind them hit the door at a full run. Michael knelt at the door, his right shoulder a few inches below the handle. He grabbed the handle and pushed upwards with as much force as he could. Strong downward pressure from the other side of the door. The handle shifted downwards.
He got his bearings. He needed help. The doorway they had just exited was part of a convex stone fusillade built into the hillside. He was crouching on a flagstone floor about five meters square. About twenty meters away was a sign signaling that the summit of the toboggan had been reached. A series of green, amber and red lights strung between two poles indicated when it was time to release the brake.
Tereza was running for crest of the hill. How the hell could she do this to him? After getting him into this mess she was going to ditch him to face this killer alone. He watched in disbelief as she disappeared from view. The downward pressure of the steel handle had stopped the blood flowing into his fingers. Hands were in agony, sheet white, numb. Need to run for it.
Michael sensed someone behind him. Flinched, expecting pain. A large wooden post was thrust under his jaw, but instead of connecting with him, it was jammed under the door handle.
“Push it up . Hard.”
Michael drove his body upwards, legs like pistons, the iron handle shifting. Tereza kicked the bottom of the post so that it jammed the handle in its most upright position, ensuring that the door stayed tight shut.
“Follow me.”
They took off across the top of the hill. Wood splintered behind him. They reached the lip of the hill. Three toboggans waited for a green light. The boy in the first toboggan too busy concentrating to notice them.
“ Jump on,” Michael shouted to Tereza as he grabbed the boy round the waist and pulled him off the steel machine.
The boy looked up at him, eyes wide in confusion and surprise. There was little he could do. Tereza jumped on the back and wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist. A jolt of electricity shot through him. Not a good time for romance. He ignored the red light and slammed down the brake lever with his hands. The machine shot forward.
He glanced over his shoulder . A gigantic man, dark clothing, raced across the hilltop. Michael turned and focused on taking the first corner, eased on the brake at the last minute as the toboggan shook on the bend’s apex.
He looked again. Th e giant had jumped onto the next machine. The gun in his right hand had helped him take the toboggan from the young couple now running in the opposite direction.
There was a loud crack. Two more in close succession. Pressure as her fingers clutched his abdomen more tightly. The ride would last for another minute, maximum. If he didn’t think of something soon, this was most likely how long they both had to live.
Michael took three more corners. Their pursuer was no more than fifteen meters behind them. One more corner to go and then a final short stretch to the end of the track. The rail turned back on itself around a wooden hut and wound its way back up the hill.
“We’ll stop suddenly . When I say jump, jump.”
“ My bike’s over there,” she pointed to the car park, a short distance from the bottom of the run.
Michael removed the thick leather belt from his jeans and quickly looped it under a steel bar on the front of the toboggan. He wound it round the bottom of the brake lever and gently lifted the lever to slow their momentum. He glanced back. The other man was ten meters away and closing. Michael would have to time this exactly right for it to work. He hoped the thug behind them would keep his bullets for the end of the run where he thought they’d be sitting ducks.
He slammed on the brake.
“Jump!”
The toboggan shuddered to a halt. He yanked hard on the belt, locking it into place, jumped off the steel sled and
He got his bearings. He needed help. The doorway they had just exited was part of a convex stone fusillade built into the hillside. He was crouching on a flagstone floor about five meters square. About twenty meters away was a sign signaling that the summit of the toboggan had been reached. A series of green, amber and red lights strung between two poles indicated when it was time to release the brake.
Tereza was running for crest of the hill. How the hell could she do this to him? After getting him into this mess she was going to ditch him to face this killer alone. He watched in disbelief as she disappeared from view. The downward pressure of the steel handle had stopped the blood flowing into his fingers. Hands were in agony, sheet white, numb. Need to run for it.
Michael sensed someone behind him. Flinched, expecting pain. A large wooden post was thrust under his jaw, but instead of connecting with him, it was jammed under the door handle.
“Push it up . Hard.”
Michael drove his body upwards, legs like pistons, the iron handle shifting. Tereza kicked the bottom of the post so that it jammed the handle in its most upright position, ensuring that the door stayed tight shut.
“Follow me.”
They took off across the top of the hill. Wood splintered behind him. They reached the lip of the hill. Three toboggans waited for a green light. The boy in the first toboggan too busy concentrating to notice them.
“ Jump on,” Michael shouted to Tereza as he grabbed the boy round the waist and pulled him off the steel machine.
The boy looked up at him, eyes wide in confusion and surprise. There was little he could do. Tereza jumped on the back and wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist. A jolt of electricity shot through him. Not a good time for romance. He ignored the red light and slammed down the brake lever with his hands. The machine shot forward.
He glanced over his shoulder . A gigantic man, dark clothing, raced across the hilltop. Michael turned and focused on taking the first corner, eased on the brake at the last minute as the toboggan shook on the bend’s apex.
He looked again. Th e giant had jumped onto the next machine. The gun in his right hand had helped him take the toboggan from the young couple now running in the opposite direction.
There was a loud crack. Two more in close succession. Pressure as her fingers clutched his abdomen more tightly. The ride would last for another minute, maximum. If he didn’t think of something soon, this was most likely how long they both had to live.
Michael took three more corners. Their pursuer was no more than fifteen meters behind them. One more corner to go and then a final short stretch to the end of the track. The rail turned back on itself around a wooden hut and wound its way back up the hill.
“We’ll stop suddenly . When I say jump, jump.”
“ My bike’s over there,” she pointed to the car park, a short distance from the bottom of the run.
Michael removed the thick leather belt from his jeans and quickly looped it under a steel bar on the front of the toboggan. He wound it round the bottom of the brake lever and gently lifted the lever to slow their momentum. He glanced back. The other man was ten meters away and closing. Michael would have to time this exactly right for it to work. He hoped the thug behind them would keep his bullets for the end of the run where he thought they’d be sitting ducks.
He slammed on the brake.
“Jump!”
The toboggan shuddered to a halt. He yanked hard on the belt, locking it into place, jumped off the steel sled and
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