«I’ve lived with that judgment in one form or another all my life, but you’re wrong! You must believe me. You can’t stay here; it’s not safe for you. I can hide you; I can help you…»
«You? How? Through the barrel of a gun? Under the wheels of a car?»
«Please! I know why you’ve come to Geneva. I’m here for the same reason. We’ve got to reach him, tell him before it’s too late. The funds must be stopped!»
The old woman seemed stunned by Helden’s words. Then she frowned, as if the words were a trap.
«Must they? Or must I? Well, I won’t be. I’m going to call out, and when I do, men will come. If they kill you, it means nothing to me. You’re thirty years of a lie! All of you! You won’t reach anyone.»
«Mrs. Holcroft! I love your son. I love him so much … and if we don’t reach him, he’ll be killed. By either side! Neither can let him live! You’ve got to understand.»
«Liar!» said Althene. «You’re all liars!»
«Damn you!» cried Helden. «No one will come to help you. They want you out of here! And I’m not a cripple. This is a bullet in my leg! It’s there because I’m trying to reach Noel! You don’t know what we’ve been through! You have no right to—»
There was a loud commotion from the small building on the waterfront. The two women could hear the words … as they were meant to hear them.
«You’re not welcome here, monsieur! There’s no such woman as you describe! Please leave.»
«Don’t give me orders! She’s here!»
Helden gasped. It was a voice she’d heard all her life.
«This is a private marina. I ask you again to leave!»
«Open that door!»
«What? What door?»
«Behind you!»
Helden turned to Althene Holcroft. «I’ve no time to explain. I can only tell you I’m your friend. Get into the water! Out of sight. Now!»
«Why should I believe you?» The old woman stared beyond Helden, to the base of the dock and the building; she was alarmed, indecisive. «You’re young and strong. You could easily kill me.»
«That man wants to kill you,» whispered Helden. «He tried to kill me.»
«Who is he?»
«My brother. In the name of God, be quiet!»
Helden grabbed Althene around the waist and forced the old woman down to the wood of the dock. As gently as possible, she rolled both of them over the edge and into the water. Althene trembled, her mouth full of water; she coughed and thrashed her hands. Helden kept her arm around the old woman’s waist, holding her up, scissoring the water below.
«Don’t cough! We can’t make noise. Put the strap of your purse around your neck. I’ll help you.»
«Dear God, what are you doing?»
«Be quiet.»
There was a small outboard motorboat moored thirty feet from the dock. Helden pulled Althene toward the protective shadows of its hull. They were halfway there when they heard the crash of a door and saw the beam of a powerful flashlight. It danced in ominous figures as the blond man ran toward the pier, then stopped and shot the light out at the water. Helden struggled, her leg an agony now, trying to reach the boat.
She could not do it; she had no strength in the leg, and the weight of the wet clothes was too much.
«Try to get to the boat,» she whispered. «I’ll head back … he’ll see me and—»
«Be still!» said the old woman, her arms now spreading out in quick, floating motions, easing the burden on Helden. «It’s the same man. Your brother. He has a gun. Hurry.»
«I can’t.»
«You will.»
Together, each supporting the other, they propelled themselves toward the boat.
The blond man was on the dock, the beam of the flashlight crisscrossing the water’s surface in methodical patterns. In seconds the light would hit them; it was moving out like a deadly laser beam. The instant it centered on them, a fusillade of bullets would come and it would all be over.
Johann von Tiebolt was a superb marksman, and his sister knew it.
The blinding beam came; the hull was above them. Instinctively, both women put their faces in the water and surged underneath. The beam passed; they were behind the boat, the chain tangled in their clothes. They held on to it, a lifeline, filling their exhausted lungs with air.
Silence. Footsteps, at first slow and deliberate, then suddenly gathering momentum as Johann von Tiebolt left the dock. And then the crash of a door again, and voices again.
«Where did she go?»
«You’re mad!»
«You’re dead!»
A gunshot echoed through the waterfront. It was followed by a scream of pain, then a second gunshot. And then silence.
Minutes passed; the two women in the water looked at each other under the wash of moonlight. Tears filled the eyes of Helden von Tiebolt. The old woman touched the girl’s face and said nothing.
The roar of an engine broke the terror of the silence. Then spinning tires and the sound of erupting gravel from an unseen drive came from the shore. The two women nodded at each other, and, once more, each holding the other, started for the dock.
They crawled up a ladder and knelt in the darkness, breathing deeply.
«Isn’t it odd,» said Althene. «At one point I thought about my shoes. I didn’t want to lose them.»
«Did you?»
«No. That’s even stranger, I imagine.»
«Mine are gone,» said Helden aimlessly. She stood up. «We must leave. He may come back.» She looked toward the building. «I don’t want to go in there, but I think we have to. There was a set of car keys…?» She reached down to help the old woman up.
Helden opened the door and instantly closed her eyes. The man was slumped over the counter, his face blown off. For a moment the image of the mutilated head of Klaus Falkenheim flashed across her mind, and she wanted to scream. Instead, she whispered. «Mein Bruder…»
«Come, child. Quickly now!» Unbelievably, it was the old woman who spoke, giving the order with authority. She had spotted a ring of keys. «It’s better to take their car. I have one, but it’s been seen.»
And then Helden saw the word, printed clearly in a heavy crayon on the floor beneath the dead man.
«No! It’s a lie!»
«What is it?» The old woman grabbed the keys and rushed over to the girl.
«There. It’s a lie!»
The word on the floor was written hastily, the letters large.
NACHRICHTENDIENST
Helden limped toward it, sank to her knees, and tried to rub the letters away, her hands moving furiously, the tears streaming down her face. «A lie! A lie! They were great men!»
Althene touched the hysterical girl’s shoulder, then took her arm and pulled her off the floor. «There’s no time for this! You said it yourself. We must leave here.»
Gently but firmly, the older woman led the younger out to the drive. A single light was on above the door, creating as much shadow as illumination. There were two cars—the one Althene had driven and a gray automobile with a license plate wired to the bumper. She guided Helden toward the latter.
And then stopped. Whatever control she had managed to summon was shattered.
The body of her red-haired pilot lay in the gravel. He was dead, his hands tied behind his back. All over his face—around his eyes and mouth—were slashes made by the blade of a knife.
He had been tortured and shot.
They drove in silence, each with her own agonizing thoughts. «There’s an apartment,» said Helden finally. «I’ve been given directions. We’ll be safe there. A man has flown in from London to help us. He should be there by now.»