Jake knew that the Polizei would have to drive up the mountain from St. Anton, some 15 kilometers by road, so he went in the other direction, toward Germany. He could be near the border in ten minutes. As he got higher on the mountain, he saw the blue and white lights from a couple Polizei cars making their way up the mountain road to the gasthaus. Jake guessed they would first go to the room and find out what happened. By then he would be long gone.
The man next to him started to stir, so Jake swung a backfist, hitting the man in the face and knocking him out again. Blood rolled down the man’s face, down his right arm and down his right leg. Jake would have to stop across the border before this guy went into shock. He needed some information.
The border between Austria and Germany sat on the top of 2500 meter mountains here, with no way to cross. The road ahead would come to a small town and Jake would have to go left or right. Left and Jake would skirt the border and eventually be able to continue north and cross the unguarded frontier into Germany. Go to the right and Jake would head toward Garmisch-Partenkichen, Germany, or he would be able to backtrack toward Innsbruck before crossing into Germany. He went to the right.
A half hour later, convinced he wasn’t being followed, Jake pulled down a deserted country road and stopped. The man to his right had been semi-conscious a few times during the night and woke with swirling eyes now. Jake got out and rounded the car, opening the front passenger door and stooping down to the Serb still strapped into his chair. His dark eyes shifted toward Jake, unknowing.
“All right,” Jake said, “we’ve determined already that you speak English. Now you’re gonna tell me who hired you.”
The man licked dried blood above his lip but didn’t say a word.
Jake shook his head. “This can go many different ways. But in the end you’ll either die from shock or loss of blood, or you can die…in a different manner. Best case scenario? You tell me what I need to know and I drive you to the hospital in Innsbruck.”
The man sniffed. “You’re dead already. You just can’t see it.”
“Good. You can speak. I thought you might be dumb and stupid. Now…how do you want this to go?”
Still no answer. Great. Why in the hell do they all take the hard way? Jake pushed in the cigarette lighter and waited. The man’s eyes looked at the lighter and then to Jake, who yawned.
The lighter popped and Jake took it out and shoved it immediately into the man’s neck, bringing a loud scream and the man stretching his body against the restraints. The smell of burnt hair and flesh tweaked Jake’s nostrils. It was the one smell he really hated.
“This is just the beginning,” Jake said. “We can stay here all night until the battery runs out.” He shoved the lighter back into its slot and waited for it to pop again. “But once I start using this on your dick you’ll tell me what I need to know. I’ll guarantee it.”
When the lighter popped, the man jumped but still didn’t answer. Jake looked at the wound on the man’s forearm, where Jake’s bullet had struck the bone, leaving a nasty mess. With one swift motion, Jake grasped the lighter and shoved it into the wound that was seeping blood. The pain brought another scream from the man, instant sweat from his face, and then the guy passed out. Damn it. The pain was what Jake wanted, but he had pretty much cauterized the arm wound. He returned the lighter to its slot and thought of another method. Maybe his pocket knife would be enough. He pulled it out, unfolded the three-inch blade, and checked for sharpness. Not up to his normal standards. Good. That would work better.
Jake slapped the man a couple of times to wake him. When he finally responded, his eyes cast a dark glare on Jake, who waved the knife close to the Serb’s eyes. Most men feared a few things from torture. First, that they would do something to his dick or nuts. Another great fear is that someone would screw with the eyes. Nobody wanted to go blind.
“Now, my friend, I’m sure you can see the gravity of your situation. I can poke one eye out, you scream and still don’t tell me what I want to know, and then I take your second eye. From there I can go to your cock and balls, taking one at a time. Now, I think you must have read somewhere that I will do what I’m telling you. Then I’ll leave you up here with no clothes, bleeding to death and no reason to really live anyway. That’s the hard way. And what does it really matter if you tell me the name of your boss?”
“He’ll kill me.”
“There we go,” Jake said, “we’ve narrowed the field to only half of the world’s population. We know it’s a man. Continue.” Jake ran the knife along the bottom of the guy’s right eye.
The Serb let out a labored breath. “I don’t know his name.”
Shaking his head, Jake sliced the man just below the eye, bringing instant blood and pain as the man pulled his head away from the knife.
“Now, that was a lie and you know it,” Jake chided.
This time the man said through clenched teeth, “Gunter Schecht.”
Jake couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “Gunter Schecht,” he repeated. “That’s impossible.” Impossible because Jake had shot the man, putting a bullet in his forehead many years ago in Berlin, Germany. “What did he look like?”
“I never saw him,” the Serb said. “The word got out about a bounty on you, so we made it known we were available. I’m sure we’re not the only ones. A million Euros is a lot of money.”
Not if you’re dead. “How did you get in on the action?”
“A website.” He gave Jake the web address. “From there they call you. I have no idea how they found my number. I didn’t give it to them. But they found me.”
“There are better ways to make money,” Jake assured him. “Trying to kill me is not one of them.”
“I see that now.”
Jake unlashed the guy and pulled him from the car, shoving him into the ditch, where he fell into low ferns and immediately grasped his shot knee.
“Now what?” the Serb asked.
“If I let you go I’m guessing you’ll just come after me again. Am I right?”
The man hunched his shoulders. “My knee must get fixed. Just like yours.”
So the man did know something about Jake. “And then what?” Jake pressed. He aimed his .40 cal auto at the man’s chest.
“That’s a lot of money.”
“At least you’re honest,” Jake said. “So why shouldn’t I just shoot you right here?”
“You should. I would. But then they will keep sending men after you until you’re dead. You can’t get away from fate.”
Okay, honesty could go too far. What the hell should he do? It’s not like he could just shoot an unarmed man. The guy had made a bad choice taking this assignment, but he had no way of knowing that. Jake backed up to the car, opened the driver’s door, and reached under the seat, collecting the Serb’s silenced gun. Then Jake threw the gun a few feet away from the man.
The Serb’s eyes shifted toward the gun.
“Pick it up,” Jake ordered.
“You’ll shoot me before I have a chance.”
“Maybe. But you’ll get more of a chance than you gave me back at the gasthaus.”
“You weren’t in the room.”
“You didn’t know that.”
Jake could see the calculations running through the Serb’s mind. Reach for the gun, roll to the side, raise the gun, and fire. As the man did just what Jake thought he would, Jake stepped quickly to his right, narrowed his profile and heard one puff just as he fired three times. The man crashed to the grass. Jake stepped carefully toward the man, his gun ready to fire again. But it wasn’t necessary. Two bullets had struck the man’s chest, and the third had hit the center of the man’s neck, snapping his spine. The man was dead before he hit the grass.