She was just pulling the last crate off the truck. She moved quickly, efficiently. The cardboard crates were bulky but not heavy. She picked one up easily and headed for the van.
Carter slipped in behind her and waited until she dropped back to the floor.
"I told you to stay in Russia, comrade."
Her face registered shock and surprise. With obvious effort she got control of herself and spoke in a small tight voice. "It will make no difference. We have the proof on Conway. If this shipment doesn't go through, he will find a way to get another to us rather than ruin his future."
"I've already figured that. Anna," Carter said, moving toward her as he jacked a shell into Wilhelmina's chamber but left the safety on. "That's why I'll make a deal. I want Conway."
"Oh?"
"That's right. What have you got on him?" She told him, and Carter nodded. "I figured that. We trade. You give me the means to squash Conway, and you can have the Protec boxes."
"Do you think I'm a fool, Carter? Besides, the photographs and confessions are in East Berlin. I don't have them to trade."
"Then I'll just kill you and do whatever I can to get Conway."
She shrugged and stepped to the right, away from the van's open doors. Carter lifted the gun. He wasn't going to fire, he was going to bluff.
He wanted to kill her, but alive she might still be the key to getting Conway.
She read him like a book.
With a rapid movement, she darted around the side of the van and headed for the big double doors.
Jolted by her sudden action. Carter didn't catch her until she was almost at the door. He grabbed her waist with one arm just as their momentum slammed them both into the closed doors.
She was good, and fast — maybe even faster than Carter.
She recovered first, twisted, and jabbed a knee toward his groin. He blocked it with his thigh. She grabbed for the hand that held Wilhelmina, fingers clawing with surprising strength. Her finger jammed his through the trigger guard. But the safety was still on.
Changing tactics, she rotated her hips into his stomach and prepared to throw him. Carter knew from past experience that she was as strong as a man, and fought with quiet desperation.
He blocked the attempted throw and twisted the gun out of her grasp. It was a mistake. She heeled his instep, snapped the back of her head into his face, and clawed at his groin with both hands.
His eyes teared and he felt blood rushing from his mashed nose. A silent scream rose in his choking throat as her squeezing fingers found his testicles.
Involuntarily his hand opened, dropping Wilhelmina to the concrete. Her gasps of exertion turned to grunts as she squeezed harder and dropped to one knee. Like a snake, one hand freed him and darted to the Luger. In the same movement, he saw her flip the safety to «off» and bring the gun upward.
She meant to level the barrel over her own shoulder, and he could see that it was about to work.
He had no choice.
His right arm encircled her throat, and her straining gasps were stilled. The gun was at her shoulder now, and his arm tightened over her throat. Slowly the hand at his groin relaxed, but she still tried to take blind aim with the Luger.
He applied more pressure, and at last she went limp.
He squeezed one last time to make sure, and then let her lifeless body settle to the concrete floor. He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears from his eyes and the blood from his face as he looked down at the still form.
She hadn't moved. His fingers found the carotid artery in her neck. There was no pulse. She was dead.
"I warned you, Anna," he said, and staggered to the doors.
The moment he was outside, he could see Bruchner and Marty Jacobs running toward him.
"Did you…?" Jacobs said.
"She's dead," Carter croaked. "The Protec boxes are on the truck. Load them and her in our car."
He headed for a phone booth on the corner. Behind him, he could hear Bruchner's voice. "Did you get anything out of her we can use on Conway?"
"No," Carter growled over his shoulder. "The son of a bitch is away clean."
It took him five minutes to get through to West Berlin and Horst Vintner. In terse sentences he laid out the last two hours to the SSD man.
"So the only way we can get the bastard is to get our hands on Klauswitz. Call over the wall, and don't tell them sweet Anna's dead. Do tell them we've got her, and we'll trade."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and then what amounted to a low groan. "Klauswitz is on his way over now," Vintner said. "In a box."
"Shit," Carter groaned.
"But don't worry about Conway," Vintner said, his voice almost a whisper. "Lisa Berrington emptied a 9mm Beretta into him in his hotel room a half hour ago."
Carter froze, his mind whirling. He should have known… Hong Kong… her mood… He should have known.
"Were there any witnesses?"
"I thought the same thing," Vintner replied. "But there's nothing we can do. She shot him in front of five people."
Carter didn't even reply. He just dropped the phone back on its cradle and started back toward the warehouse. Suddenly he stopped, lit a cigarette, and changed his mind.
He turned on his heel and began walking into the rain. It was almost dawn, and the light didn't make the streets any less grubbier.