Tom Wood - The Enemy

Victor remained silent.

‘He’s buying explosives,’ Georg said after a few seconds. ‘A gun, stuff like that.’

‘Interesting.’ Krausse raised his eyebrows at Victor and nodded. ‘Are they for your mother too?’

‘She likes to stay active.’

Krausse laughed and his men joined him, guns lowering a few inches. Victor watched the guy with the shotgun turn to one of the others and shake his head in disbelief. The shotgun barrel angled down a fraction.

Krausse looked back to Georg. ‘Where the hell did you find this guy?’

‘He found me.’

‘Figures. Just how much explosive is he buying?’

Georg shrugged. ‘A reasonable amount.’

Krausse smiled at Victor. ‘Then knowing Georg, you’ll be paying an unreasonable amount for it.’ He looked at one of his men. ‘Take his cash.’

The man who approached Victor was about the same height — an inch or two over six feet — but bigger at the neck, shoulders and especially waistline. His face was hard, serious. He stank.

‘You packing?’ he asked as he came closer.

Victor said, ‘Not unless you count my coffee.’

In the edge of his vision, Victor caught Georg glancing his way. Victor didn’t glance back.

The gunman lowered his weapon as he approached. ‘Just keep your hands where I can see them.’

He patted Victor down with his left hand. Not as thorough as Georg’s muscle, but thorough enough. The man took the stack of money from Victor’s hand and held it up for Krausse to see. He half-turned away from Victor to do so. Victor waited a second and took a small sidestep to the right.

Krausse didn’t look happy. ‘That’s not a lot of money.’

Before anyone could respond, a cell phone rang. Victor approved of the ringtone: Water Music by Handel. Krausse struggled to pull it from the pocket of his suit trousers. He looked at the screen for a moment before denying the call.

‘I hate these things. They rule your life,’ he said, putting it back in the pocket. ‘Now, you were about to tell me where the rest of the money is.’

Victor didn’t say anything. He glanced at the other three of Krausse’s men. They weren’t as stiff as they had been when they first arrived. They looked in control, relaxing more as time ticked by. Comfortable.

‘He was going to take me to it after he’d collected the stuff,’ Georg explained.

‘Now he can take me instead.’ Krausse looked at the guy with the money. ‘Count it.’

His back to Victor, the man put his gun into the left pocket of his jacket and started thumbing through the notes.

‘Do I get to keep the goods I’m here for?’ Victor asked.

Krausse said, ‘I told you that you’re funny.’

‘What if I say please?’

Krausse laughed, turned to his men with a look of amused astonishment. They smiled or shrugged back at him, guns as close to their waists as shoulders. Victor took another small sidestep. The one counting the money now blocked his line of sight to the two with handguns to his left. And vice versa.

Victor spoke to Krausse without looking at him. ‘Are you sure you won’t reconsider?’

‘Oh, I’m quite sure,’ Krausse said.

‘Then you leave me no choice.’

Victor squeezed the coffee cup in his left hand. The lid popped clear and he reached inside, drew out a black folding knife, extended the blade and drove it into the lower back of the man in front of him.

He stiffened and screamed, dropping the money. Victor let go of the knife, grabbed the gun from the man’s pocket, and pointed it at Krausse’s head before anyone could react.

The man with the knife in his back groaned and sank to his knees. For a moment no one else moved or spoke. Hundred-euro notes floated to the floor.

Victor’s gaze flicked between the three other gunmen. Their guns were back up and they were anxious, looking from him to Krausse and back again, waiting for orders. No one looked like he was stupid enough to shoot while Victor had a gun on their boss, but he couldn’t be certain.

Krausse slowly clapped. ‘Impressive performance.’ He glared at Victor. ‘Bravo.’

Victor glared back. ‘You should see what I do for an encore.’

‘Then let’s not go there.’

‘We don’t have to,’ Victor said. ‘I just want what I came here for.’

The man with the knife in his back tipped forward and fell on to his side. He lay in a foetal position. Blood pooled on the floor around him. Victor had stabbed him between the spine and left kidney. A potentially mortal wound, but he could be saved if treated soon. Victor hadn’t wanted to kill him outright in case it inspired one of the others into seeking some kind of foolish vengeance resulting in them both getting killed. These guys were likely friends and he wanted them more concerned about helping the wounded man than anything else.

Georg’s own guys were out of Victor’s field of view but he could see Georg in his peripheral vision; while predictably nervous with the change in circumstances, she was far from panicking. Victor hoped all three of them would have the intelligence to stay out of proceedings.

Having a gun pointed at his brains didn’t seem to have much effect on Krausse. His smile was gone but he was calm, annoyed more than scared.

‘So how are we going to do this?’ he asked.

‘Start by having your men drop their weapons.’

Krausse shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘I won’t tell you twice.’

Krausse nodded as though he had expected that exact answer. ‘You’re fast, my friend, but both you and I know you’re not fast enough to shoot me and all my men before getting killed yourself. You’re not the suicidal type, are you?’

‘Not lately.’

‘Good. And I know if I so much as try to tell my men to fire you’ll kill me before I finish the sentence.’

‘Before you finish the first word.’

‘I believe you,’ Krausse said. ‘So it’s a stalemate and we’ll all keep our guns.’

Krausse wasn’t the threat, his thugs were, but he was right, they were too spread out to risk shooting at. If they weren’t, Victor would have shot them all already.

He said, ‘I’m going to leave the money where it is and then I’m going to walk out of here. You’re going to let me.’

‘What about the other half of the money?’

‘It’s in a trashcan on the corner of the street where Ballindamm meets Alstertor.’

‘Then we’re done.’

‘Not quite. Where’s the equipment?’ Victor asked Georg.

Georg was silent.

‘Tell him,’ Krausse ordered.

Georg’s voice was quiet, defeated. ‘It’s in a van nearby. I’ll take you to it.’

‘No, no, no.’ Krausse shook his head. ‘You stay here. We haven’t finished.’

‘You’re going to get all the money,’ Georg said. ‘Just go.’

‘You double-crossed me, Georg. And this isn’t even the first time. I know about that deal you did for those Munich fuckers without me. What kind of a man would I be if I let such disrespect go unpunished? That’s the reason I came here, so we could discuss your betrayal,’ Krausse explained. ‘Tell him where the van is and give him the keys. You’re not going to need them again.’

‘No.’

‘Tell him.’

Georg straightened, defiant. ‘No.’

‘Tell him, Georg, or I’ll let my boys work off some of their frustration on you until you feel like cooperating.’

‘ Fuck you.’

Victor knew what was going to happen in the silence before Georg pulled a gun. When she did, Victor was already moving, gaining half a second head start over the others. He dived behind a nearby stack of crates a moment ahead of one of Krausse’s men opening fire. The loud report from the handgun echoed around the warehouse.