Arshak shut down the engine and extinguished the lights.
We got out of the Unic and came around to the rear and stood shoulder to shoulder looking back at the villa, maybe seventy yards away.
I said, very low, “Hang back in the dark till I finish with the guards at the gate.”
I took one big breath of air and puffed it out.
I crossed the road to the tree line and approached the villa low and quick. Just before the penumbra of streetlight I drew back into the trees and eased up and took a good look.
Thirty yards away two armed men flanked the entrance. In order to silently take them both out I had a single-shot Winchester with a minimum of seven or eight seconds between rounds. And the guy on the left was only partially visible from my present angle. I could go deeper into the woods and come forward from tree to tree till I had a hidden, straight shot at both of them. Play the sniper. While the second Hun figured out why his comrade just fell down, I might be able to reload and take him out before he knew how to react. But maybe not. Maybe he’d throw off some generalized field-of-fire shots right away. Or he could duck out of sight.
I thought of a better way; better for Lucine.
I had an open, direct look at the guard on the right. I retreated into the dark and then out to the verge of the road. I collected the three largest manageably throwable stones I could find, ranging in size from chicken egg to baseball. I crept back to my previous just-out-of-the-light position, which was about even with the near end of the villa wall, and I waited for the two men to have their faces turned away from my direction. Then I stood up straight and squared around to the wall and I threw the middle-sized stone over and into the grounds, hoping to hit something that would make a sound.
I watched the two men.
They lifted their heads, but it wasn’t clear they’d heard anything.
I threw the egg-sized stone into the same general area. And then, immediately, the largest one.
This time I had their attention.
They looked back into the villa grounds.
They exchanged a quick word and the man on my left disappeared.
I pulled the hammer back on my Winchester and held my shooting arm straight down and I strode forward into the light, keeping the weapon out of sight.
I took two quick, long steps and a third before the remaining guard turned his face to me.
I was a German officer heading his way out of the night. The guard’s rifle was coming off his shoulder, but slow. I was fast now, striding. The guard was crazy confused, trying to figure me out. Should he salute or should he raise his rifle and stop me?
Another stride.
This would be an easy shot now.
I drew my hand from behind me and lifted the Winchester and the guard’s eyes went wide and he was rushing the rifle off his shoulder and I had the Winchester on him and I squeezed off a round and there was almost no kick at all and there was no recognizable sound, just a faint hiss and rush, and the center of the guard’s chest bloomed and sprayed and he flew back and his rifle clattered into the gate and already I was dodging to the left out of immediate sight — the other guard must have heard, was surely turning now and would soon be looking for me — and I grabbed the lug and slid the bolt and popped the cartridge case and I stuck a fresh round into the breech and I could hear the other guard running, he was almost at the gate, and I took two steps into the street so I could have an angle on him, as I closed the bolt and pulled back the hammer, doing this with my back to the entrance, the Winchester hidden from view, relying on my uniform and my back to delay the guard, and I heard the Hun scuffle into the open behind me and I lifted my left arm and pointed to the woods.
“It came from over there, Sergeant,” I said, looking at him over my shoulder, and he was hesitating, he was turning his face the way I was pointing and I kept my eyes on him and I was already swinging my right arm across my body and under my left arm and I squeezed off a round that caught him in the left side of the chest, maybe straight into the heart because he went down heavy, like he was gone instantly.
I squared around to the entrance. But I didn’t move. The two guards were very still. The two guards were dead. I breathed deep and I let it out. I reloaded the Winchester as if there was no one lying on the ground before me. As if I had nowhere to go. If I’d reloaded in seven seconds a few moments ago, this was a leisurely fifteen. And I wondered if other eyes had been watching the entrance, from inside the house.
Apparently not, as I waited there in the road. No sound whatsoever came from behind the wall.
I had to expect more resistance inside the villa, but I figured I could at least get to the front door without drawing fire.
I pulled my Winchester’s hammer and cocked it. I liked this tough guy who nonetheless knew how to keep his mouth shut when he chewed.
And Arshak appeared beside me.
He must have followed me to the edge of the light.
He didn’t say a word.
I didn’t say a word.
He nodded.
I moved off quick, crossing to the entrance and stepping between the dead guards and through the open gate. The villa was done in a toned-down Italian style with no Renaissance frills. The basics but tastefuclass="underline" two stories elevated on a terrace with a low-pitched, wide-eaved tile roof, a central court, and an arcaded, ground-floor loggia. The place was all white stucco tainted yellow in the electric light like dog piss in snow.
I went up the steps and across the courtyard, moving quietly and with my Winchester held low. I passed into the shadow of the loggia and approached the front door, which showed light within, and now it was time — since I’d not caught anyone’s attention — for me to act a little suspicious.
I crouched and spanked past the first set of windows to the left of the door. I pressed back against the wall and then gave just enough of my face to the glass to see inside.
I was looking down a wide, central grand hall that stretched from the front door to a far set of veranda doors. The hall was lit by dim-burning electric faux-torches on sconces, and outside, at the far end, I could dimly see the columns and arches of a corresponding Bosporus-side loggia.
I looked to the right, closer to the door, and I flinched back.
But they did not see me and I needed to watch them: two more German guards, one tapping a cigarette halfway out of a pack and letting the other take it. The second soldier said something and headed for his post at the rear of the villa.
The first German began to turn in my direction and I pulled back. I waited a few moments. I peeked again. He was sitting on a stool, just inside the front door. I glanced the length of the hall. The second guard was outside, closing the veranda doors behind him.
I kept low and crept away from the window and moved a couple of paces out of the loggia. Then I turned and approached the house again, doing nothing to muffle my steps.
I was a German officer. And as far as these house guards knew, I’d been admitted by the entrance guards.
I stood before the door, and I lifted my left hand and knocked very lightly.
I heard a stirring inside.
Perhaps they knew to expect someone.
The door began to open and I backed two steps away and raised my right arm.
I told myself that if there were any way to reliably knock this man out and keep him out till I rescued Lucine, I would do that.
The door opened and the guard’s face was shrouded in shadow and I was glad for that and he had not unshouldered his weapon — they were indeed expecting visitors and they were not expecting trouble — and I squeezed the Winchester’s trigger and he flew back and landed hard on the floor, his body thumping and his rifle clattering.
I stepped out of the sight line of the door and reloaded the Winchester and cocked the hammer.