I could have tried to reach for the gun on the floor, but I knew I’d never get to it before Sheng. As for Wilhelmina, my Luger would have sounded like a cannon in that station.
Sheng was now circling me. I had to retreat from his gun on the floor. He couldn’t get to it, either, but he was perfectly content with his new advantage. He expected to cut me to shreds with the stiletto.
Sheng stepped in quickly, feinting with the knife. He was good with it. I avoided a quick hard thrust, but a second assault cut through my jacket sleeve and scratched my arm. The grin was returning to his broad face. He was confident. He made another swipe with the blade and gashed my chest.
Our eyes were adjusting to the dimness now, and I could see the blood dripping steadily from Sheng’s right forearm as he methodically stalked me in a tight circle. He saw the blood on my shirt, too, and his face showed he liked what he saw. He figured it would just be a matter of seconds till he could finish me off.
Then Sheng made his big move. He came in for the kill with a thrust at my belly. I stepped and twisted to one side and chopped down at his wrist with my right hand. I hit him solidly, and the arm was jarred under the impact. Hugo clattered to the floor.
Before Sheng could recover, I turned closer to him and chopped down on his head and neck with the heel of my hand. He grunted and slipped to his hands and knees. I stepped over him to deliver another blow, but he was ready for me. He kicked out with his right foot and knocked me down with a blow on my upper leg.
We both scrambled to our feet at the same time, but I had the edge on him because I was not hurt as badly. I threw a fist at him, but he saw it coming in the nick of time. Despite his bad arm, he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder in a wide arc. I saw ceiling and floor as I reached for him on the way down. I landed on one knee, still holding on to him. With the momentum he had created, I swung him over my back, turning him upside down in the air and landing him hard on his back on the concrete floor. He hit with a loud thud, and I could hear the air punched from his lungs.
I regained my footing as Sheng, out of breath, struggled weakly to his knees. Then I kicked out savagely at his head, and he fell to his side. He tried to make it to his knees again, but I was waiting for him. Just as he struggled weakly to his feet, I took careful aim, chopped down hard with the back of my hand at the bridge of his nose, and connected with a loud crack. Sheng grunted and hit the floor flat on his back. Then he twitched twice and was dead.
I glanced out of the door and saw that the conductors were preparing to start the Orient Express again. After I retrieved Hugo and Wilhelmina, I buttoned my jacket to cover the blood on my shirt, and rushed into the rainy night to the train.
Eight
Soon after the train departed from Pivka, I found Ursula on the rear platform, alone, checking out the ammunition in her Webley Lilliput. She was relieved to see me.
“I saw you get off, and I thought you might have run into trouble at the station,” she said.
I had changed my jacket and shirt so there was no evidence of my run-in with Sheng. “There have been a few developments for me,” I admitted. “Getting ready for Belgrade?”
She smiled a tense smile. “Yes. I am a little anxious about it, I guess.”
“Well, it’s almost one o’clock. I suggest you go get some sleep. We don’t arrive at Belgrade until nine a.m.”
“I will get some rest,” she said. “I promise.”
“Good. I have a little something to do. I’ll see you early tomorrow morning. Are you heading back to your compartment?”
“I think I’ll get some air first,” she said. She leaned over and touched my lips with hers. “Darikeschön for worrying about me, Nick.”
I smiled. “See you later.”
I left Ursula on the platform and walked back through Voiture 7, now the last coach, toward 5, where I hoped to find Eva Schmidt.
I had reached the far end of Voiture 7, when I saw a man headed toward me through the corridor of the next sleeper. It was Hans Richter. He was no longer carrying the radio with him, and his face looked very businesslike. I ducked back out of sight and ran ahead of him, back to my compartment. I unlocked the door and got inside just as Richter rounded the corner of the corridor.
I waited until I heard him pass before stepping back out into the corridor behind him. He was headed toward Ursula who was still on the rear platform. At first I thought it was probably just a coincidence, but then I saw him stop at the end of the corridor, remove a big stiletto knife from his pocket, and snick the blade open. There was little doubt about it: he knew Ursula was there. Apparently he had guessed that she was after him, and was going to kill her.
Richter disappeared around the corner of the corridor. I moved quickly after him, realizing that it would take only a moment for him to kill Ursula if she hadn’t seen him coming and that the clatter of the train would cover any sound he made.
It took me just a moment to round the corner of the corridor and reach the platform door. When I looked through it, I saw that Richter had already grabbed Ursula from behind and was holding the knife at her throat. His other hand was over her mouth, and I could imagine her very wide, fear-glazed eyes.
Richter was speaking to his captive in an arrogant, hard voice, as I eased the door open behind him.
“Yes, I know it’s unpleasant to die. But that is what the Bonn government has in mind for me, isn’t it?”
It was a tricky situation. I could not just kill Hans Richter because Ursula and Bonn wanted him alive. It was important to them that he suffer the ignominy of public trial.
I eased the door shut behind me, pulled out Wilhelmina, and moved up behind Richter just as he was about to draw the stiletto across Ursula’s throat. Then I placed the muzzle of the automatic up against the base of Richter’s skull so he could feel it there.
Richter turned his head quickly, still holding the knife to Ursula’s neck. When he saw me behind him, a look of pure hatred came into his hard, muscular face.
“You?” he exclaimed.
“You had better drop the knife,” I said, nuzzling the Luger up tightly against his skull.
“And what if I do not?”
“Then I’ll blow your face off,” I said grimly, hoping he did not call the bluff.
“Not before I am able to open up this lady’s throat like a ripe tomato. No, I have the advantage here, my friend. If you do not put your gun away immediately, and leave this platform, I will kill her instantly.
“You misunderstand my motive for being here,” he continued smoothly. “I only intended to frighten the lady off. I was not going to actually kill her. Nor will I kill her now if you leave this platform. If you do not, however, I will be forced to sever her jugular.”
Richter was a smooth liar, but not a convincing one. I knew that if I left the platform, I would not see Ursula alive again.
I saw blue eyes look toward me in desperation. I swallowed hard and shoved the Luger even tighter against the base of his skull.
“All right,” I said, “do it.”
Richter glanced at me. “You mean you will let me kill her?”
“That’s right,” I said. “After that, the front of your head will disappear into the blackness out there. Now you decide, Richter. Drop the knife or you’re dead.”
I hoped I sounded convincing. Richter hesitated a moment, thinking it out, evaluating. Then I saw his face change and relax a little. He took the knife from Ursula’s throat and dropped his other hand from her mouth.
I took a long step away from Richter, and he moved slightly away from Ursula. She turned toward him now, breathing hard.