They didn’t have time to wait and see which direction the sentry would go. They poked their heads around the corner, seeing the German beneath the fire escape, lighting up another cigarette then leaning against the wall. Adler took the penlight flashlight from his pocket, then clicked it on and off once, signaling Grant, who stood ready, holding the .45 with both hands in front of him, his elbows close to his body. He turned and faced Adler and the alley, poised and waiting.
Adler stuck the light around the corner and aimed the tiny beam along the ground, tracking a path toward the German whose eyes fell on the light. He blinked and threw the cigarette away, fumbling with the strap of the Uzi, finally pulling it from his shoulder. He started walking, when the light suddenly disappeared. He stopped in his tracks, staring at the ground then lifted his head, looking into the blackness of the field beyond, uncertain whether to proceed, but then he tried to reassure himself it was probably nothing. There hadn't been a single sighting of anyone near here, let alone any attempt to try and attack or break into the flat or lab. He hesitated, but knew he had to investigate. With the Uzi clutched in his hands, he started cautiously forward. The quiet was almost deafening. He swung the Uzi slowly from side to side, trying to cover both buildings, not knowing what to expect. He was less than eight feet from the corner when a black form swung out from behind the building on his left. Stunned, his reaction was only quick enough to raise the Uzi. The last sound he heard was a muffled “putt.”
Grant and Adler rushed to the dead German. Each grabbed an arm and started dragging the body beyond the building to the edge of the field. Adler pulled the clip from the Uzi then rolled the German over, face down. Grant quickly scanned an area close by, quietly asking Adler, "See any camouflage?"
"Behind you," Adler answered immediately, spotting something over Grant's shoulder. He ran about fifteen feet, lifted a rusted piece of crumbled sheet metal, carried it back then covered the body. Only the bottoms of the German’s shoes were left exposed.
Grant motioned with his head toward the building then took off, Adler right next to him. Jesus, Grant thought, where the hell is the trail of bodies going to end?
Not surprising, the basement door was locked. Grant pulled a case from his vest, removing a lock pick. Adler pulled double duty, holding the flashlight and standing guard. Grant manipulated the instrument inside the lock like an expert burglar, finally hearing a click.
Adler entered first, shining the beam of light ahead of him. Grant was right behind him, closing the door silently. "Nine o'clock," Adler whispered. He aimed the flashlight on what looked like a rectangular wooden box. "Trap door?" They moved cautiously toward the box. Grant knelt down on one knee, running his hand along the edge of the wooden frame, lifting one edge. Adler leaned over, shining the light down through the folding stairs. "Look familiar?"
"Yeah." He reached for Adler's flashlight, searching for some kind of switch. Finding it, he stood up and handed the flashlight back to Adler who started to close the lid. "Leave it," Grant said. "In a little while, it won't matter who knows we've been here. Let's go." At the top of the steps, they confronted another locked door. Christ! Grant again removed the lock picks. He swung the door out just enough to poke his head through the opening. His eyes had adjusted fully to the darkness, and he spotted the stairs just to his left. "Clear," he whispered. He led the way up the stairs to the first landing. Standing by the front door, Adler pressed an ear to it. They both listened for any sound, but there was only silence.
Grant moved to the next flight of stairs, as Adler stuck close. Almost in unison, they stared up toward the second landing, the outline of the apartment door in sight — their final objective. With adrenaline pumping, they ascended slowly, one step at a time, staying close to the wall, their weapons cocked and ready.
Karl Breite stood at the entrance of the kitchen, with a Luger gripped in his hand. He drew back the hammer, while never taking his eyes from the partially opened bedroom door. The children were quiet again after nearly thirty minutes of fussing. He made the decision to dispose of the woman first, then the children. He breathed in deeply, knowing he had no choice if he wanted to survive. Steiner would make good on his promise. Breite's only consolation for what he was about to do was that he'd make sure they didn't suffer.
A kerosene lamp sat near the edge of the folding table, its flame barely giving off enough light to cast shadows in the kitchen. Breite pictured in his mind the position of the cots and where the woman and children were. Deciding he couldn't take the chance and maybe miss the targets with first shots, he carried the lamp and put it down on the floor near the bedroom entrance. He turned up the wick. He stood in front of the door and began to push it open with his foot, his weapon secure in both hands. The cots were directly opposite him, the sleeping children coming into view as the door opened. He took a slight step to his left as he entered the room, preparing for the other cot to come into view. He started to pull the trigger when suddenly, out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of someone lunging at him from behind the door. He began to swing the gun around when an excruciating pain shot through his chest, just below the sternum, the instrument of death being forced up at an angle, plunging into his heart. A reflex action caused his finger to squeeze the trigger.
Grant and Adler were at the front door when the shot rang out, sounding like a cannon in the empty building. Screams from the hysterical little boys made Grant's blood turn cold. "Oh, Christ! Go! Go!" he yelled.
Without hesitation, he and Adler fired at the lock then kicked in the door. Adler rushed in at a forty-five degree angle to the right, sweeping the room with his .45 as Grant came right in behind him. The children's screams were earsplitting. Adler searched the living room. "Clear!"
Grant pulled open the closet door, also confirming, "Clear!" He headed for the kitchen entrance, close behind Adler. A kerosene lamp on the floor outside the bedroom still burned, casting eerie shadows across the floor and wall. Adler took a position near the door's opening, Grant opposite him. Grant nodded. Adler reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open but something blocked its movement. The screams from the little boys had turned to pathetic cries. Every once in awhile one of them would choke and start coughing, then the crying would resume.
Adler tried to see inside the bedroom. All that was visible were a man's legs, his upper body hidden behind the door. Adler stood up and looked at Grant, moving an index finger across his throat. They had to make their move now.
Grant motioned that he'd throw his body weight against the door. Adler took a deep breath and nodded. Grant slammed his body against the door with full force. Adler rushed into the room. For one split second, there was complete silence. The twins stopped crying, shocked for a second time. But seeing two strangers, dressed completely in black was too much for the little boys, and they screamed.
Both men ignored them, keeping their guns ready and their senses on alert. A quick look around the room told them it was clear. In unison they looked down. "Jesus," Adler mumbled.
The man's body had been shoved across the floor from the force of the door, but it was the first time they noticed the woman. She was laying half under the man's upper body. No movement or sounds came from either one. Blood was pooling on the floor between both bodies. Her blond hair was draped across her face, the long strands showing streaks of blood. A metal nail file was embedded in the man's chest just below the sternum. His Luger remained clutched in his hand.
She nearly made it, Grant thought grimly. He opted not to have Adler bring in the kerosene lamp. His immediate thought was to try and block the view from the boys. He shook his head slowly. "Get the kids and get the hell out."