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Authors: Mario Reading

The Third Antichrist (47 page)

BOOK: The Third Antichrist
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He found the ideal observation spot in the central bedroom on the third floor of the house. With the shutters open he had a double-view across part of the lake and down the valley to the first blind corner. Nothing approaching the lodge from either the front or the sides could hope to get by unseen – and the back of the lodge was protected by the lake. The storm had gentled a little in the past half-hour, and now the moon’s reflection on the recently settled snow lit up the surroundings like a sports arena prior to shutdown.

Sabir grunted and hurried back downstairs. He ducked inside the armoury. Yes. There it was. An IOR 10x56 hunting scope. Pointless attaching it to his rifle – without zeroing in and matching to the rifle it was as good as useless. But he could use it in lieu of binoculars.

Alexi poked his head out of the room in which Yola was doing her cooking. Behind him, Sabir could hear the sound of raised voices and laughter.

‘Come on, Damo. Don’t be a killjoy. Come and have a drink with us. Supper’s going to be ready soon. You need to wet your whistle first.’

Sabir clambered back upstairs as if he hadn’t heard. If they’d all conveniently forgotten about Crusader Andrassy, Mihael Catalin, and the failed attack on Radu and Lemma, he hadn’t.

 

75

 

Abi squinted through the Lada’s windscreen. Markovich was in the back seat and his subordinate, Trakhtenberger, was driving. ‘What’s that? Up ahead. Covered in snow.’

Trakhtenberger stopped the car. So far, the Lada Niva’s four-wheel drive had made short work of the slope leading up to the pass. The snow might be fresh, but it hadn’t yet started to drift.

‘It’s a car.’

‘Switch off the headlights.’ Abi tried to wind down his window, but nothing happened. ‘Open your window, man.’

Trakhtenberger tried his window. Same thing. ‘We need to silicone-spray them. They stick sometimes when it’s really cold. I was meaning to see to this before we started out, but I forgot.’

Abi cursed all amateurs and their amateurishness under his breath. ‘Switch off the engine.’

Trakhtenberger made a face. But he did as he was told.

‘Can you hear it? The engine of that car is still running. Is that Andrassy’s Simca?’

Markovich sucked at his teeth. ‘I think so. From the little I saw through the snow it seemed the same colour. But why is it pointing downhill? According to your theory they should have been heading up the valley.’

‘It’s obvious that they’ve had an accident. Probably slid down the slope and spun round. And now the idiots can’t see us because of the snow piled up over their windscreen.’ Abi threw open the Lada’s door. ‘Take your pistols. Then get out and cover me.’

Markovich leaned forwards and touched Abi on the shoulder. ‘We can’t shoot anybody up here. It would be madness. The army comes through all the time.’

Abi shrugged Markovich’s hand away. ‘Who is talking about shooting? This is the perfect spot for a car accident.’ He tapped the place on his sleeve where he concealed his fighting baton. ‘We take them and we beat them to a pulp. But we leave them half-alive. Then we shove them back in the car and tip them over the edge of the cliff. It works. I’ve done it before. Quite recently, actually. By the time the car finally settles, the bodies inside have passed through the equivalent of a cement mixer. No clues. Nothing. Just minced-beef patty. That must be a thousand-foot drop over there.’

Markovich swallowed. For all his seniority in the Crusader hierarchy, he had never killed a man before. Neither, it seemed, had Trakhtenberger, whose hands were shaking where they held the steering wheel.

Abi rolled his eyes. ‘You both stay tucked up in here then. I’ll do the deed. Just don’t get any clever ideas about bolting with the car, or I’ll hunt you both down just like I’ve done with them, and to hell with who your master is. Do you understand me?’

Both men nodded. They seemed relieved to be off the hook.

Abi ducked out of the car. Fifty yards separated him from the Simca. He could hear the breathy mutter of the exhaust through the declining sough of the wind. He began to regret the loss of his brothers and sisters. At least with them you knew where you were. They had all been killers. Every last one of them. They’d have had Sabir’s car surrounded before Abi had even mouthed the order.

Keeping his back to the cliff face, Abi side-stepped towards the car. He cocked the semi-automatic when he was twenty yards short of his target. There was no earthly chance of anyone hearing the double-click of the slide over the noise of the engine. And if they hadn’t caught the flash of the Lada’s headlights through the windscreen five minutes before, it meant that they were probably dozing anyway. This would be a piece of cake.

When he got close to the car he ducked down and manoeuvred himself alongside the passenger door. He grasped the handle and gave it a light tug. If it didn’t give, or was locked, he had decided to fire through both front windows, making sure that the spent bullet exited through the far window and didn’t fall into the Simca. That would be enough to give him access. He could clean up the glass later.

The door gave.

Abi threw it open and faced into the car, straight-arming the pistol ahead of him with both hands extended.

Nobody in there.

He threw open the back door.

The back seat had been taken out.

He reached across and switched on the interior light. There was blood and fluid on the floor of the rear seat-well.

Abi bent forwards for a closer look. No. This wasn’t arterial blood. Nor was it the quality of blood you saw from a flesh wound. Abi had considerable experience of both. This blood was mixed with mucus.

So Radu’s wife was either on the verge of having her baby or had already had it? An unfortunate thing to have to do in a snowstorm. But why had she – and the others in her party – abandoned a warm car for the freezing cold outside?

Because they had found somewhere better to make for, that’s why.

Abi walked out into the centre of the road. Sledge marks. Clear as day. He turned round and glanced back towards the car. An abandoned sledge was upended against the snow wall, its guide rope cut. So where had that bastard Sabir found two sledges? A sledge shop?

He switched off the Simca’s engine and shut all the doors. It wouldn’t do to have an empty tank when the car finally hit the valley bottom. A fire would answer all their prayers.

He motioned to Markovich to come up and join him.

Markovich looked relieved when he realized that no one was inside the Simca.

‘Look there. Sledge marks. And here. Look at the cut rope. They obviously found they didn’t need two sledges to make a caravan.’

Markovich nodded. It was clear that he didn’t understand quite where Abi was going with his observation.

‘Are there any houses up here?’

‘Houses?’

‘Ski lodges, then? Hunting lodges? Army barracks?’

‘There’s a private hunting lodge. At least I think so. It used to belong to the President. It’s up near the lake somewhere.’

‘How far is the lake?’

‘How should I know?’

‘How indeed?’ Abi motioned to Trakhtenberger to bring up the car. ‘They’ll be up there. You can count on it. Snug as rats. Are you a good terrier, Markovich?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Are you good at unearthing rats?’

Markovich shook his head. He no longer cared what the Frenchman thought of him. This whole situation had turned into a nightmare, and he wanted out of it. But the Frenchman had a pistol. The man scared him witless. Markovich glanced at Trakhtenberger. Trakhtenberger looked scared too.

Markovich climbed into the back of the Lada and hunched forwards over his knees. He thought about his wife. The meatballs and dumplings she had doubtless cooked for supper would be cold by now, and his wife would be dozing in front of the television. He laid his head on the seatback in front of him and wished he was at home.

‘Drive, Trakhtenberger, drive. Take us to General Secretary Ceausescu’s private hunting lodge.’

 

76

 

Yola brought Sabir a plateful of stew and a glass of red wine. ‘They’re all drunk down there. It’s getting very rowdy.’

‘Celebrating the baby?’

‘Celebrating the baby.’

‘One can’t begrudge them, I suppose. How is Lemma?’

Yola smiled. ‘She is sleeping. Despite all the noise. One sometimes forgets how young she is.’ Her expression darkened. ‘It has been a bad time for her. She has been forced to carry many of the weights that were meant for me and my baby. The attack. The kidnap of Radu. Being taken away from her home. I feel bad about this.’

‘It’s hardly your fault.’

‘I know this. It does not stop me feeling bad.’

Sabir walked to the window.

‘Why are you looking? Nobody will find us up here.’

Sabir glanced back at her. ‘Do you really believe that?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t.’ He brought the telescopic lens up to his eye and checked out the valley. ‘The Corpus want you dead, Yola. Both you and your baby. They’ve more than proved that already. And now they’ve brought Catalin into the equation, things can only get worse. And it’s all my fault. Because I flagged you up to them with my big mouth.’

‘What are you going to do with that rifle? Shoot them? Or will you eat them with your big mouth?’ She was smiling.

Sabir didn’t respond. ‘I’ll shoot them if necessary. If I see them before they see me, that is.’

Yola hitched her shoulder at the door. ‘You’re angry about the others, aren’t you? You think this celebration is premature? That they should be watching, not drinking?’

‘I’m watching.’

She shook her head. ‘You haven’t eaten your stew.’

‘Leave it with me. I’ll finish it later.’

She cocked her head to one side. ‘You are thinking of the woman, aren’t you? The one you lost?’

‘I think about her all the time.’

‘There are other women, you know. All you need are eyes to see.
O d
ž
ukel kaj piravel arakhel kokalo.’

Sabir groaned. ‘Alexi does that to me all the time, Yola. It’s very irritating. What does it mean?’

Yola pretended to write on her palm. ‘It means “a dog that is prepared to wander will always find a bone”.’ She clamped the hand unexpectedly to her stomach and gave a grimace. ‘I’m sorry. He surprises me, sometimes, when I am least expecting it.’

Sabir raised an eyebrow. ‘He? Did I hear right? Have you just acknowledged you are actually expecting a baby?’

‘You know that well enough.’ Yola rolled her head sheepishly. ‘Recently, he seems to be kicking me all the time.’

‘May I feel?’

She shook her head. ‘No. You shouldn’t touch me. I may pollute you.’

Sabir threw up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Yola. Sometimes I think I’m beginning to understand you and your people. That I’m slowly getting my head around this concept of
romanipen
. And then you blindside me again.’

‘Damo, listen. Even mentioning what is going on with me is bad. I should not have done it. Even words can pollute.’

‘Yeah. Yeah. Dumb of me.’

She moved up beside him. She hesitated for a moment and then reached down and took his hand. Gently, she laid it on her stomach.

BOOK: The Third Antichrist
6.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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