Текст книги "Заговор мечей"

Автор книги: Джейн Doy Press

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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

“But that changed, didn’t it?” Teren asked.

“Yes. Franz Eisenbein joined our church. He had only recently graduated from seminary, and he was filled with such righteous indignation. He would thunder away at the crowd, teaching them that God wanted what was best for them. Week after week, it was that God had a plan, and God wanted the best for his people, and the Aryans were his chosen race. I thought it was wonderful how he would create such enthusiasm in the crowd. “

Alex snorted. “Of course. Germans are superior. The Aryan race is supreme. Wonderful.”

Teren touched Alex’s arm, but said nothing.

Odbert shifted in his chair, and a look of pain drifted across his face. “I do not think like that anymore.”

“But you did.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

They were all silent for a moment, then Teren prodded Odbert to continue his story. “What happened that made you change your thinking?”

He frowned. “There was violence. Two members of Eisenbein’s youth group were arrested for beating a Jewish boy. He publicly denounced the beating, saying violence solved nothing, but secretly, he was giving money to the young men’s parents for their defense. He also arranged for the victim to be discredited – and the boys were let off with a suspended sentence.

“Even before that, Franz began taking the younger men on weekend trips. He told me they were training weekends, to teach the boys to be warriors of God. I believed him. I even went on one with them. He never spoke about the Jews, or anyone else. Only about the need for a strong German people.” Another sigh. “And I let him lead the church. I was getting old, and I wanted to retire. I became less and less important, and he became the spiritual leader. And he never spoke about Nazis or Jews in public. But in private,” he shook his head, “he became the Fuehrer, all over again.

“That’s when I decided to give him the account, and fully retire. My injury from the war had caused parts of my spine to disintegrate, and I could hardly walk. I saw where Franz was taking the church, but I could do nothing to stop him. So, I retired.”

“Yet, Eisenbein came to see you today,” Teren said.

“He did indeed. He has come several times. I never found the strength to openly tell him he was wrong.”

“Instead,” Alex said, “you gave him money, and power, and the tacit approval to carry on with his neo-Nazi doctrine.”

After a moment, the old man nodded. “Yes.” He looked up at her, “I am just a man, Miss Reed, and not a very intelligent one at that. I believed in Utopia, the dream of the perfect society. I followed one man that promised it, and did not have the strength to argue with another. I am only human, and I will never claim perfection, or any kind of sainthood. I am very aware that the world will never remember either Werner Hoppe or Jurgen von Odbert with anything but disgust.”

“You can change part of that,” Alex told him.

“How?”

“Tell us about Stephen Radcliffe.”

“Ah.” He nodded, leaning back as far as his chair would let him. “Stephen is like Franz, full of fire and righteousness. He has great plans. I worry about what will happen if he succeeds in his quest.”

“What quest is that?”

“He wants to put a friend of his in the White House. He considered running for it himself, but did not, at that time, have the funds and supporters necessary.”

“So, for the funds, he came to you and Eisenbein?” Alex asked.

“No. He went to a man named Radinkov, from Czechoslovakia. Radinkov convinced him that there was a great deal of money to be made selling the weapons from the former Soviet Union. Plus, they could open up new territory to the drug cartels. Radcliffe began setting up deals —”

“Drugs for guns,” Teren said. “And he would send Treville in to oversee them?”

“Treville was in charge certainly, but he never got his hands dirty. Only once did I ever know of him actually showing up at a meeting, and that was six months ago. It seems his regular representatives were killed.”

Teren nodded. They were the people she and Perry had replaced on that fatal mission.

“Stephen met Franz several years ago, and they agreed to work together. Franz gave Stephen names of Nazi strongholds, and Stephen would assist them in acquiring weapons. However, as he was becoming more important politically in the United States, Stephen could not be involved in many of the things that were planned. John Treville became his representative to the meetings with Franz and myself.”

“Is Stephen still a part of the group, or is he more of a figurehead right now?” Teren asked.

“Well,” Odbert was hesitant, “he is respected for his views. But Franz and John both think he is not as committed to doing anything necessary to bring about the white Christian nation he speaks about. Recently, he has angered both of them because he sat down with leaders of the black community. While he says that it was the right thing to do, to make them trust him, John and Franz said it showed weakness.”

Alex sat back down on the couch. “So, Stephen isn’t involved with the assassination plot. Treville is the leader of that group.”

The silver gray head shook, no. “John Treville is a new Martin Bormann. He is not a leader, but a follower. He followed Stephen Radcliffe until Franz said Stephen was not pushing hard enough. Then, he followed Franz. A year ago he met a man whom he called CJ. It is the only name I have ever heard used for this man, and I don’t think even Franz knows who he is. John became a devout disciple of this CJ, and it was he that came up with the plan.”

“What plan?” asked Teren.

“Kill members of the anti-nazi movement in the US. CJ said it would cause a great deal of fear in the American liberals, and that if the liberals fought back, the Nazis would be ready with armed troops.”

“What about law enforcement? Weren’t they worried about that?”

“CJ said it would be taken care of.”

Teren raised her eyebrow at that.

“So, you knew they were going to kill political activists in the United States,” accused Alex, “and you did nothing.”

He shrugged. “What could I do? I was already in this wheel chair. I heard many plans being made.Some of them were carried out, but most were not.”

Alex leaned forward to speak, but stopped when Teren held up a hand. “Stephen signed a money transfer, less than a year ago. It was to a bank account in the name of John Treville and Martin Richmond.”

“John said he needed an operating budget for the plans he and CJ had worked out. Franz, being out of the country at that time, sent a message to Stephen asking him to sign the papers. Stephen did so, without asking what the plans were.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I was listening in on the phone call.” He half smiled. “They think because I’m old, that I won’t know or understand. Yet I know more of what happens than they do.”

“You keep your hand in, more than you say you do.”

“No, Frau Olind. My ears and eyes, yes. My hands, no.”

He and Teren smiled at one another, and Teren realized she was beginning to like this man. Former Nazi, neo-Nazi, whatever, she liked him. Teren had no idea what Alex was thinking, but she felt they could trust the old man.

Which thoroughly surprised her.

“Okay. So, what do you know about CJ?”

“I’m afraid not very much. I have heard his voice on the phone, and he speaks in low tones. He sounds very cultured.”

“Doesn’t give us much to go on.”

“I’m sorry. I have nothing else.”

Alex had leaned back for the moment, content to let Teren take the lead. She was having a hard time keeping her emotions in check.

This was a Nazi. Not a “wannabe,” like others she’d dealt with, but a real Nazi who had saluted Hitler. It gave her the shudders, and she wanted to hate him for it. After all, he admitted to spending time as a concentration camp guard. He deserved to be hated, and more.

But instead, she was actually feeling a tiny bit of affection for the old man, and she didn’t want to.

As her partner and Odbert continued their conversation, Alex looked around the room. There were a few paintings on the oak walls, and several small stone and metal sculptures. Frowning, she stood and approached one, picking it up to look at its base.

“Alex?” It was Teren calling her.

She turned around the sculpture in her hand. “Do you know what this is?”

“Yes,” Odbert answered, “it is a statuette of a woman, carved by an unknown artist of ancient Greece. It is probably between three and four thousand years old.”

“And it was lost during World War II and never recovered.”

“Correct.”

“You have a cache of these, don’t you,” Alex accused. “You’ve had all these items, things that didn’t belong to you, things you should have turned over years ago. Instead you’ve used them to bribe people and pay assassins.”

The old man waited out her short tirade, then shook his head. “You are only partly right. I knew of the existence of the hoard. But it was not mine, and I never saw the treasure itself. Once in a while something would be brought to me, a gift from Helmut. But I never asked him where it was from.”

“Helmut Kirchner?” Teren asked.

“Yes. Josef not only sent money to Switzerland, he diverted a train of treasures that was supposed to go to Berchtesgaden. Instead, it went to an area near the Swiss border. From there, Josef had the items moved to a cave. He moved the cache several times, always keeping the location a secret between himself and his family. Helmut inherited it, unofficially of course. He told Franz Eisenbein of its existence, and the two of them made plans to use the pieces as rewards to people for their allegiance.”

“And that’s how Mather got the chalice that we found.”

“Yes. Treville would call, and request an item. Normally, the call would come to Franz. He would alert Helmut, and the two of them would go to retrieve it. After Helmut’s death, Franz took charge of the collection.”

Alex put the statue down. “And how did Florian Kirchner fit into this? That car accident was faked. He was murdered for some reason. Why?”

“Because he took several pieces of the treasure, and sold them in Zurich. I doubt it would ever have been discovered, or at least not for quite a while. But he took them to the Altbusser Galerie.”

Teren nodded. “And the Altbusser was the place Eisenbein and Treville were using to handle the shipping.”

“Correct. Besides, there were certain items that Treville wanted, but Franz had no intention of parting with. He had the Altbusser make a copy, which would satisfy John. Then the original would be shipped back to Germany.”

“Where is the treasure, Jurgen?” Teren asked.

“I am not positive. I have never been there. However, I have overheard conversations concerning the Baron’s tomb.”

“And what is that?”

“Several miles from here is an old cemetery, the Friedhof der St. Petri Gemeinde. While it was partially damaged during the war, several of the very oldest tombs were left completely intact. There is a tomb of the Baron Von Nievenheim, who died in the early 1800’s. From what I have gathered, Helmut hid the treasure there.”

Teren nodded.

“So, this tomb, nobody from the family is left to tend it? The caretaker doesn’t guard it?”

“No, Miss Reed. The Baron’s family died out a hundred years ago. And if there is a caretaker, I would think that he was well taken care of by Franz and Helmut.” He shifted in his chair again, and grimaced. “I believe that is where the treasure has been hidden, for many years.”

Alex glanced over at her partner. “So, I guess we’re headed to a graveyard tonight, huh?”

“Yep.” She turned back to Odbert. “I asked you earlier about Gerd Heinrich.”

“Yes. I gathered he is a friend of yours.”

“I thought he was, but seeing him here made me wonder. What, exactly did he say?”

“He arrived while Franz was here. We were meeting with several men concerning renovations to the church. When Gerd arrived, Franz dismissed the other men. Then Gerd began asking questions. He wanted to know if we had heard of Werner Hoppe.” He smiled sadly. “I had not heard the name for many years. It was very strange.”

“What else did he say?”

“Nothing. He asked questions. He wanted to know where the church’s money had come from. Franz told him that it came from the charity drives and contributions. Gerd asked why it was in a Swiss account, and Franz denied there was such an account. He asked where Gerd had heard such a lie.”

“And what did Gerd say?”

“He did not answer. Instead, he switched the subject and asked Franz if he was a Nazi.”

“Which Franz denied.”

“Mostly. He admitted that he found Nazi doctrine interesting, but said he had never thought about joining the Nazi party. Which is true, since it hasn’t existed in over fifty years.”

Teren frowned. “It looked like Gerd was arguing with him when they left.”

“I would not have been surprised. Gerd is a good man, who Franz had hoped to eventually recruit to his cause. When Gerd expressed disgust at any and all Nazi principles, I could see that Franz was very upset indeed.”

“I bet.” She breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that Gerd had not betrayed her. Or, at least not entirely.

Alex put a hand on her back, knowing what her partner was thinking. She was glad that Gerd had not proved himself the traitor that Mather had been.

“So,” Teren said, “Is there anything—”

There was a loud yell from another part of the house, and Teren stopped. Her hand immediately went to her gun, and she swore at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Jurgen placed an arm on Teren’s shoulder, and shook his head. He pulled a gun from under the blanket on his lap, and motioned her to get behind the sofa. Both she and Alex did so. Jurgen sat there calmly, his gun in his lap.

The door burst open, and a young man burst into the room, his gun in one hand and a phone in the other.

In German, he asked if the old man was alright, and Jurgen smiled and nodded.

“But the fire needs another log, please.”

Obviously relieved, the guard put down his phone, and tucked his gun into his belt. “Tobias is dead. I found him upstairs with an arrow in his throat. I’ve already called Franz, and he’s on his way here. I’m going to look for Holger in a moment. That bitch might be about to attack.”

“Good.” Jurgen waited until the man finished putting the log on the fire. Then he raised his gun and fired, striking his guard in the back of the head. The body fell forward, knocking over the fire screen.

Teren hopped over the couch and checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one.

“You must leave. Franz is on his way.Before you do, go into my bedroom. It is the first room in the hall as you come in from the front. If you look under mattress, there is a stack of papers I swiped from Franz’s briefcase. I did not have a chance to look at them, so I don’t know if they will help, but they are yours.”

Teren glanced at Alex, who nodded and moved to go past the chair. She stopped and extended her hand to Odbert.

“My name is Alexia Reis. I’m glad we got the chance to meet.”

The old man’s eyes filled with tears, and he gently took Alex’s hand. “I am Werner Hoppe, and the pleasure has been mine.” He held on for a moment later. “I am sorry for your grandparents, Alexia.” They locked eyes for a moment, then Teren tapped him on the shoulder and offered her own hand.

“I’m Teren Mylos.”

Alex placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder as he and Teren shook hands. She glanced at Teren and left the room.

Teren looked at the old man. “Will you come with us?”

Jurgen shook his head. “I’m sorry. I cannot.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Teren said, “he’ll know it was you that killed this guy.”

“By that time it will be too late. You will be gone, and so will I.” He held up a tiny glass vial. Teren had seen them before; she and Perry had each carried one in their luggage.

“Are you sure about this?”

He nodded. Teren did so as well, and squeezed his shoulder one more time.

“Good rest, Werner.”

Teren headed for the door, where she turned around just once.

The old man seemed to be trembling, in convulsions. Then he went limp, his arms falling to his sides.He slumped forward, only a belt holding his body to the chair.

Alex met Teren in the hallway. “Is he coming with us?”

“No.” She gently pulled Alex down the corridor. Near the front door, Alex tugged her arm loose.

“They’ll kill him, Teren, you know they will.”

“He’s already dead. He used a cyanide capsule to kill himself while you were in the other room.”

Alex’s mouth hung open for a moment, then she blinked and closed it.

They walked silently back to the car.

Chapter Thirty-one

Alex and Teren were headed toward the cemetery when a car passed them, going at top speed. Teren recognized it as the one from earlier in the day.

She glanced at Alex, and noticed the younger agent was examining the papers from Odbert’s mattress, her face stoically blank.

Neither of them had spoken of the death of the old man.

“Anything in there?”

“Not much. Mostly church business. Stuff about the renovation and – ” she paused as she held up a envelope, “wait, hang on, here’s a letter from the States.”

“Anyone we know?”

“Can’t tell, can’t see it very well in the dark.”

“How do you know it’s from the US, then?”

“I recognize the stamp.” Alex waited for the car to pass beneath another street light. “Ah, it’s from Washington.”

“The state, or the capital?”

“Capital.” Alex put the letter down and continued looking through the bundle. “I can’t really see anything else of interest at the moment. It’s not easy to tell, though.”

Teren nodded. “Do you want to put them into my duffel?”

“No, I think they’ll fit in my briefcase.”

“With your computer? Alex, that thing’s getting pretty full.”

Alex grinned, even though she knew Teren couldn’t see her in the dark. “I know. That’s what they made expansion straps for.” She reached over the back seat and snagged her case. After releasing the expansion snaps, the papers slid in easily, and she closed the case, depositing it behind her seat.

“Do you know where this cemetery is?”

Teren squinted as a car with a set of bright lights passed them. “Yeah, I know where it is. Or the general area, at least.”

“I wish I had your experience with Europe, Teren.”

It took a moment for Teren to answer. Then she said, “No, you don’t, Alex.”

They were both quiet for several more moments. Teren turned a corner, and Alex could see the outline of headstones through the iron fence they were passing.

“Teren?” Alex’s voice was very soft.

“Yes?”

“Why do you think he helped us?”

There was a heavy sigh from the driver’s side. “I don’t know, Alex. Maybe it was his way of salvaging his conscience.”

“Maybe.” Teren began to slow the car. “You liked him, Teren, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I think I understood him, a little.”

Alex nodded in the darkness. She said nothing more.

Teren pulled the car into a small area behind some trees. Opening up her bag again, she pulled out her infrared glasses, and surveyed the area around them. There were a few red blips, but nothing big enough to be a human. She turned them off, and looked at Alex.

“Ready?”

“For going tomb hunting? Oh, sure, just what I wanted to do tonight.”

Teren smiled, happy Alex was trying to hang onto her sense of humor. Sometimes, she thought, it’s all we really have.

“Let’s go, then.”

They both checked their weapons, and left the car.

It took them several minutes to find the tomb of Baron Von Nievenheim. The squat gray building showed signs of aging, and the statue out front was missing half of his head. Weeds and bushes had grown up around the area, and vines of some kind covered part of the front and side. The inscription on the vault was barely readable, and the dates of the Baron’s life had all but withered away.

“Okay, Teren, we found the tomb,” Alex whispered as she pulled on a set of gloves, “now what?”

Teren stood still, staring at the front wall, her small flashlight trained on the rough stone seal. There was no obvious door, and no lock. There had to be a way in, though.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for the tomb to show me how to get in,” Teren whispered back.

Alex just stared at her. “O-kay.”

She studied the building for a few more minutes, aware of Alex jumping up and down beside her to keep warm. There was something not right about the tomb. Something that just didn’t fit, but Teren couldn’t tell what it was.

Her friend stopped jumping and looked at her. “Figured it out yet?”

“No.”

“What are you looking for?”

Teren sighed and glanced at Alex. “Something’s out of place. I can’t tell what it is. Once I figure it out, it’ll tell me how to get in.”

“Oh.” Alex moved to stand beside her and stare at the tomb. Then she squinted and took a step forward. “Teren, have you noticed that these vines here are the only things around here with green on them?”

The dark woman stared at her. “That’s it. That’s what out of place.” Teren stepped forward and touched one of the vines. “They’re plastic.”

“Who would put plastic vines on a tomb?”

“Maybe someone who wanted the covering year round?”

Alex raised her eyebrows in understanding. Teren moved the flashlight to her mouth and began to feel under the plastic foliage. She followed one particular stemlike piece, and stopped abruptly. Moving it gently aside, she found what she’d been looking for.

A keyhole.

With a smug look at Alex, Teren pulled out her set of picks and went to work. A moment later the tumbler clicked, and a small door, whose dimensions had been hidden by the fake vines, appeared.

Teren took a look around the cemetery. The wind had stopped, and the moon had begun to set. There were the normal night sounds, of insects, and distant dogs barking. Satisfied that they were alone, she motioned to Alex, and they stepped into the tomb.

Teren’s flashlight only illuminated a small area, but it gave just enough light to show that the room was full of wooden crates – not coffins.

Alex lifted the top off one, and peered inside. The crate was lined inside with metal to keep the elements out, and foam padding to protect the contents from damage during moving. The contents of the crate were several wooden frames. Alex gently pried one part way up, and found a portrait of a young woman.

“I don’t recognize this, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was by Renoir.”

Teren had pulled the lid off of another, much smaller wooden box, to find trays of old coins. “Hey, Alex, ever seen a real Roman coin?”

“No.”

“Here’s your chance.”

Carefully sliding the painting back down, Alex glanced towards her partner. “You know this stuff’s worth a fortune.” She picked up the lid and repositioned it on the crate. “We can’t just leave it all here, Teren.”

“I don’t intend to. Soon as we get out of here, we’re calling the BKA.”

“Which is?”

“Bundeskriminalamt. They handle the investigations of all neo-Nazi activities.”

“Good. Are we going to tell them everything we learned from – Odbert?” She hesitated just a moment before saying the name.

“I don’t think so. I don’t think we should even let them know we’re here.”

“Right. So, we’re calling them, and hopping on a plane, right?”

Teren replaced the cover on the box she’d been looking through. “Something like that.”

They spent several more minutes looking at the items in the tomb. Paintings, boxes of statues, and crates of metal works were crowded into the small building. Alex found several items she could identify from the list she’d seen. Teren came across a box of gold coins – all with Hitler’s profile on them.

“So, you want to make that call?”

Teren pulled out her phone and keyed it on. It showed no service.

“Damn. I think the walls of the tomb are too thick. We’ll have to step out.” She shrugged. “Better if we don’t touch too much more anyway.”

“Right.” Alex made her way back around the boxes, and joined Teren at the front door. The taller woman inched the door open, keeping an eye out for anything that might be out of the ordinary. Not seeing anything out of place, she opened it further, and both of them slipped through it.

Teren closed the door and then stripped her gloves off. She stuffed them in her pocket, and led the way back to the car. As they walked, she pulled her phone out again, and turned it on.

Suddenly, she froze. Alex, who’d been following closely, was surprised, but kept her balance and didn’t bump into the taller woman.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“Voices. Get down.”

They each ducked behind a headstone, but not before the voices turned to shouts, and Teren realized they’d been spotted. Cursing herself for not paying better attention, she tried to dial the phone one handed as she pulled her gun.

The first couple of bullets whistled by, but the third hit the tombstone she was hiding behind. There were several more in a row, and she had to shake stone chips out of her hair.

Alex had drawn her weapon, and was returning fire. She saw Teren trying to dial, and allowed herself to hope that help would come soon. Then she crept a little farther away from her partner, hoping to draw fire while Teren made the call. It seemed to be working, as several shots thunked into the stones around her.

Teren heard the phone pick up, but it was a recording, and it only offered a different number for emergencies. Angrily, she cut off the mechanical voice, and tried to dial again. Before she could, a ricochet plunked into the ground near her feet. She realized they were trying to flank her, so she turned, firing rapidly into the stand of trees to her right. She was rewarded by a body falling from them. With a grim smile, Teren turned back to her attackers, grabbing the top of the tombstone with her left hand as she fired with her right.

A moment later she realized that had been a bad move as a stray bullet took the phone from her left hand.

Alex had continued to try to draw attention from her friend, but there were fewer and fewer shots coming her way. Either they were waiting for her to make a move, or they were concentrating on Teren. Either way, she wasn’t staying here, and she rolled across an open space between two graves. There was no shot, so she took to her feet, crouching and heading further into the trees to flank their attackers.

She saw a shadow at the tree in front of her, his gun raised. Not wanting him to alert the others to her movement, she crept up on him, slowly, her gun ready.

A slick spot on the grass made her foot slip just a touch, but it was enough. The man whipped around, and they both froze.

“Alex?”

“Gerd!”

Teren had run out of bullets again, and was trying to change clips, with her left hand bleeding. She managed to load the gun, and turned to fire again. The shots had been coming a little slower, but she was worried, because she’d lost sight of Alex. There hadn’t been a sound from her partner, and she could only hope that the woman was safe.

There was a pause in the firing, and Teren decided to take a chance. She didn’t want Alex to give away her position, in case she’d managed to get around to the side, or even behind them, but she needed to know that Alex was okay.

“Alex? If you can hear me, let me know!”

She waited a moment

“I’m here, Teren!”

The call came from her left. Satisfied her partner was safe for the moment, she rolled that way, showing herself briefly between two granite markers. More bullets kicked up the dirt around her. It allowed her to pinpoint where the gunman was, and she came up firing.

Alex knew Teren was okay. That was the important thing. She and Gerd had worked their way around, and overpowered one man. Another, Gerd had shot, not able to get close enough for anything else. The last one or two appeared to be hidden in a copse of trees, which was partially obscured by a tall statue. It was the last place where the bullets were coming from, and they were all aimed at Teren’s position.

Gerd scooted next to her and whispered in her ear.

“I have a flashlight. I’ll drift to the side and shine it towards them, you should be able to see them, at least partially. You’ll have the better line of fire, so take it, alright?”

She nodded, and he crawled away.

Several moments later, the light came on, perfectly outlining a man in the trees. He tried to step backwards, but Alex’s shot took him off his feet. He dropped, and didn’t move.

Gerd turned off the flashlight. There was no sound but the wind in the trees, and the sudden call of a night bird.

“Teren?” Alex waited for a reply, and when there was none, she felt a cold hand touch her back. “Teren, where are you?”

Still no answer, and she began to work her way through the trees. Finally, she decided to take a chance, and she stepped out from behind them. There was nothing, and she took a few cautious steps towards where her partner had been.

And froze, as a figure rose pointing a gun at her.

“So sorry to end it this way, Miss Reed.”

“Herr Eisenbein?”

“Yes.” She heard the click as the gun was cocked. “You can meet your friend in hell.”

Alex flung herself to the ground as he fired. There was a second gun shot, followed closely by a third. As she looked up, she saw Eisenbein’s body slumped over a gravestone.

“Alex?” Gerd called to her.

“I’m fine. Thanks for the help.” She stood, brushing herself off. “Teren?” This time a soft moan reached her ears and she took off across the small open space.

Teren was laying behind a row of headstones, flat on her back. Her gun was still clutched in her right hand, and her left was leaning against the gray granite.

“Teren?”

Gerd joined her, and turned his flashlight on. Suddenly Alex could see the blood coming from the side of Teren’s head.

“Gerd, get an ambulance.” He was already speaking urgently into the phone.

Alex pulled her jacket off, and used it to help cradle Teren’s head. She used one of the sleeves to cover the wound applying as much pressure as she dared.

“Help is on the way, Alex.”

She nodded, not speaking. Her tears dripped onto Teren’s forehead and she brushed them away.

“You can ride in the ambulance with her, Alex.”

Another nod. Then she looked up at him. “No.” Moving slowly, she drew her gun from her holster, aiming it at Gerd’s chest.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Promise me, Gerd. Promise me your friends are going to take care of her.”

“I promise, Alex. Please, put the gun down.”

“I’m going to trust you, because you helped us. But you’re staying with me. Teren will go in the ambulance, but I have to get our car. And you’re going with me.” She paused. “I swear on my grandfather’s grave, if you betray us, I’ll blow your fucking head off.”