Алистер Маклин - Prime Target

‘And I’m striking up a friendship with a nice German boy in the front seat of a cop car,’ Sabrina said. ‘What happens after today? Is Wolff going back to Austria?’

‘He stays here until blue eyes is in custody. The wheels are turning. The police will be looking for him soon, so it won’t be long.’

A hundred metres from the hotel, Einar Ahlin was standing by his Opel, using a foot-pump to inflate a tyre he had manually deflated as soon as he stopped.

Erika sat in the front of the car, behind the steering wheel, coping with a new level of stress. On the way across the city, tailing the Mercedes through heavy traffic and along narrow back turnings, Ahlin said he had decided she could no longer simply pay for his services, she had to be practical in her condemnation of the Jugend von Siegfried. She must stick with him.

She wound down the window. ‘What are you going to do now?’

‘Wait to be inspired,’ he said, watching the hotel. ‘I think we can move closer.’

He finished inflating the tyre, put the pump in the boot and got in beside Erika. She drove along past the front of the hotel. There was no sign of the big Mercedes.

‘God,’ Erika said suddenly. ‘It’s her.’

Ahlin looked at the car they were passing. Sabrina was perfectly visible, sitting in the front with the police driver.

‘Now do you understand about omens?’ Ahlin said. ‘Stop the car!’

Erika drew in to the side and braked. Ahlin jumped out and walked back to the police car. Erika watched him in the rearview mirror.

‘Lunatic,’ she murmured.

There was a strong impulse to run, but she knew it would never work. He would find her, and she didn’t want to think what he would do then.

‘Out!’ Ahlin snapped, jerking open the driver’s door of the police car. ‘Out now! Out!’

The young officer scrambled out and as he straightened up by the open door Ahlin hit him on the side of the head with the barrel of his revolver. The officer dropped without a sound. Sabrina had the other door open when she felt the pressure of the gun in her back.

‘Come out slowly,’ Ahlin said. ‘Very slowly.’

She slid across the seats and got out. As she did, a police armoured vehicle appeared and drew in at the side of the hotel, near the entrance to an alley running behind the building. Two men carrying rifles and wearing dark combat suits got out. Almost at once the vehicle moved off and disappeared round the corner.

‘Who are they?’ Ahlin said. ‘Tell me or I’ll shoot you.’

Sabrina told him they were the reinforcement guard for Andreas Wolff.

‘Go across. Speak to them. Improvise. Understand?’

Sabrina brought up her arm sharply, almost knocking the gun from Ahlin’s grip. He held on to it and simultaneously grabbed her hair. He tugged once, hard, making her yelp.

‘Try anything like that again,’ he muttered, ‘and I won’t bother with warnings, I’ll shoot you. Now speak to those men, and remember I’m right at your back.’

She crossed the road, waving to the marksmen. Ahlin walked three paces behind her.

‘Are you going up to Herr Wolff’s suite?’ Sabrina asked the marksmen in German. ‘Perhaps I can show you the way.’

They stared at her, scowling, puzzled.

‘You must forgive her,’ Ahlin said, pushing her ahead of him, smiling, emanating charm. ‘She talks without thinking.’

When he was close enough he shoved Sabrina aside, knocking her down. He brought forward his revolver, pushing it in a marksman’s face.

‘Drop your guns,’ he hissed. ‘Do it now!’

They dropped the weapons. In a single sweep Ahlin hit one man in the face with his revolver, breaking his cheekbone, and swiped the other across the chin with the butt. Both men went down. Almost casually, watching Sabrina scramble to her feet, Ahlin crouched and hit each man on the temple with the chamber of the revolver.

‘Help me,’ he told Sabrina, waving the gun.

He stood by, keeping the gun trained on her as she dragged one unconscious man then the other into the alley behind the hotel.

‘Now I’m going to become a police sureshot,’ Ahlin said. ‘And you’re going to be my pretty helper, yes?’ He pointed to one of the marksmen. ‘Strip off his combat suit.’

Eight minutes later, as Mike sat watching through his peep sight, he saw the main door of Wolff’s suite swing open and a police marksman come in. Only one.

‘Better than none…’

He continued to watch as the marksman said something. The others in the room, Wolff and his two bodyguards, turned and stared at him.

Several things happened in rapid order. The two Austrians were on their feet, reaching for their guns. Wolff leaned across his work table, picked up three or four optical storage disks and pushed them down the front of his trousers. The police marksman levelled his submachine-gun and shot the two bodyguards. As they fell, one of them smearing the wallpaper with his blood, the marksman grabbed Andreas Wolff by the shoulders and head-butted him in the face. Dazed, Wolff let himself be dragged to the door.

Mike couldn’t get a clear shot in. He grabbed the rifle and ran, taking the stairs to the ground floor three at a time. He got outside in time to see the police Volkswagen scream away from the kerb. A woman was at the wheel. In the back Einar Ahlin was just visible. He appeared to be tying Andreas Wolff’s hands.

Sabrina called out. Mike turned and saw her kneeling on the pavement at the side of the hotel. Her hands were bound behind her back. Blood ran from a wound on her arm.

Mike eased her to her feet and undid the cord on her wrists. ‘He shot me when he came out,’ she panted. ‘Nearly missed. I never knew I could roll so fast.’

Mike held her close. ‘I don’t want to sound callous,’ he said, ‘or uncaring, but there’s no time to pamper you right now.’ He looked up and down the quiet street. ‘I didn’t expect him to kidnap Wolff. I have to get after them.’

‘Do something for my arm and I’ll come with you.’

Mike took a handkerchief from his pocket and folded it in a strip. He wrapped it round her arm, tied a secure knot, patted her shoulder and pronounced her cured.

‘Or as good as.’ He shouldered the rifle. ‘Now come on. We’ve got to steal something faster than a police Volkswagen.’

For an hour after clearing the Berlin city limits Erika Stramm drove steadily north-east, keeping to main roads, only making diversions when the traffic became heavy and slowed her down.

‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ she told Einar Ahlin. ‘The police could pull us over any time.’

‘The police will be looking for this car in the city,’ Ahlin said. He was still in the back seat, sprawled beside Andreas Wolff, who sat awkwardly, his hands taped behind him. ‘That is why I showed you the fast route out. The police would presumably throw up road blocks, but I’ve timed measures of that kind in a number of cities, Erika. It takes a minimum thirty minutes just to get three blocks in place. We were out in eighteen minutes. Ergo, the police are wasting their time, which is always a soothing thought.’

‘They won’t just be looking for us in Berlin,’ Andreas Wolff said. ‘This little kidnap merits a nationwide alert.’

‘Again, an unwieldy thing to implement,’ Ahlin said. ‘But facts and figures have no place in this. My instincts are what matter. My instincts and the way I use them to sustain my run of fortune.’

‘In my view,’ Wolff said, ‘you should put yourself in the hands of a competent psychiatrist.’

Ahlin sat forward. ‘It is stupid to confuse mental hyper-acuity with mental disorder,’ he said.

‘I never do that,’ Wolff said. ‘You’re mentally disordered. There’s no doubt about it.’