[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Maybe, he thought, she's one of us.
Egon still couldn't really believe that Kluge had finally shared his power with
him. For a moment, he thought back to the night that Jurg had been killed, when
Egon had been sure that his own death was only a matter of time a short time.
He had taken the Jew's body back to the apartment as ordered, not daring to
disobey. When he got there, Kluge had been waiting outside in the shadows.
Together they had wrapped the dead man in the tarp in the back of the van, and
then Kluge, tossing the body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, had carried it
up the stairs to the apartment.
Inside, Kluge had placed the old man's body in the hip bath and then turned
on the shower, making sure the spray was focused on the dead man's leg. Then,
reaching into his coverall pocket, he had produced an old-fashioned straight razor
and flicked it open, staring at its blue and gilded blade in the half-light of the
apartment.
"Come here, Egon."
The voice had been dispassionate but commanding. In his soul, Egon felt he
was about to die, but he was unable to offer any resistance. Despite the total dread
that encompassed his very being, he managed to walk over to where Kluge stood in
the semi-darkness, just outside the bathroom.
Only the pale light of the single streetlamp down on the sidewalk below
found its way into the apartment through the one tiny window in the sitting room.
Staring at Kluge, Egon watched as he slowly unzipped his black coverall to the
waist, exposing the smooth white flesh of his chest.
Lifting the razor in his right hand, Kluge pressed the blade against his chest
until the steel corner suddenly punctured the skin. Pulling downward on the
polished bone handle, Kluge made an inch-long incision in his chest above his
heart.
Egon watched with horrible fascination as the blood welled up around the
blade and trickled down Kluge's chest like a rivulet of blackness in the shadow-
light of the apartment. As Kluge's hand took the blade away, letting it fall to the
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floor, the distant hissing of the shower seemed to drown out any other sound save
Kluge's soft voice.
"Come here, Egon."
Clutching Egon's head between his hands, Kluge forced Egon's mouth over
the wound on his chest. "Drink."
Egon sucked at the wound, his mouth filling with Kluge's hot blood. He
swallowed, the hot, salty fluid clutching at his throat. He sucked harder,
swallowing more of Kluge's blood, feeling himself growing weak at the knees.
Kluge sensed his impending collapse and put one of his arms under Egon's armpits,
holding him up. "Drink," he commanded again.
Egon obeyed, and it became an almost sexual euphoria. Finally, when Egon
thought he could bear no more, Kluge pushed him away and let him collapse
boneless to the floor, at the same time retrieving the straight razor.
Walking into the bathroom, Kluge carefully wiped the handle clean of any
fingerprints, then dropped it into the tub by Stucke's feet. Still a little dazed, Egon
watched as Kluge returned to the darkened sitting room, pulled shut the bathroom
door, then turned and looked at him, smiling slightly as he placed his hand over the
cut on his chest and pinched it closed, holding it between his thumb and forefinger
for a few seconds while he stared at Egon. When he let go, it had stopped bleeding,
although an angry red welt remained where the wound had been. Egon simply
could not summon up the will to move.
Kluge zipped up his coverall, then leaned over and pulled Egon to his feet.
Half-dragging him by the wrist, he took him downstairs and out to the van. Shoving
him behind the wheel, he stared hard into Egon's eyes. "Go back to the warehouse
and collect Jurg's body. Take it out to the country and dump it."
Egon nodded.
"Any mistakes, and you'll wish you had died with him. Understand?" Kluge's
voice was as clear as ice water.
Egon nodded, wide-eyed, but Kluge leaned closer to grasp his bicep again.
"Do you understand, Egon? Say it."
"Yes, Master," Egon managed to whisper.
"Excellent." Kluge released him and smiled. "And Egon "
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Click here to buy
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"Sir?"
"Get rid of the hair?"
Egon nodded without speaking, any thought of disobedience gone forever,
and started the van. . . .
Sitting opposite the woman Kluge had sent him to meet, in the noisy beer
hall, Egon found himself reflecting that it all seemed like it had happened a
hundred years ago. He wondered what it would be like in another hundred years,
when he would still be twenty-two. How old would the woman be?
The waiter brought two plates of wurst and sauerkraut, along with two steins
of beer, and set them down in front of the oddly matched couple. They consumed
the meal in silence, and after paying the bill, the woman handed Egon a slip of
paper with an address on it. Egon nodded; he and the woman both got up to leave.
«» «» «»
Outside, a black BMW pulled up in front of the beer hall and parked under
the "No Parking" symbol. Grinning, his two stainless steel teeth flashing in the light
of the streetlamp, Eberle tossed a POLICE VEHICLE sign up on the dash.
"Come on, John," he said. "Now I'm going to treat you to some real Austrian
food."
The two men got out of the car and headed inside. Past an entry vestibule, the
huge, low-ceilinged room was filled with long tables crowded with students
drinking to excess and all talking at the top of their voices. Scattered around the
edge of the room were smaller tables, and in the very back, obscured by the blue
haze of cigar and cigarette smoke, were half a dozen booths.
"This way," Eberle shouted, to make himself heard above the din. "I've
reserved us a booth in the back."
Grabbing Drummond by the elbow, he steered him down a half-flight of
stairs and past the noisy tables of students. As they approached the booths, a short, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
Maybe, he thought, she's one of us.
Egon still couldn't really believe that Kluge had finally shared his power with
him. For a moment, he thought back to the night that Jurg had been killed, when
Egon had been sure that his own death was only a matter of time a short time.
He had taken the Jew's body back to the apartment as ordered, not daring to
disobey. When he got there, Kluge had been waiting outside in the shadows.
Together they had wrapped the dead man in the tarp in the back of the van, and
then Kluge, tossing the body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, had carried it
up the stairs to the apartment.
Inside, Kluge had placed the old man's body in the hip bath and then turned
on the shower, making sure the spray was focused on the dead man's leg. Then,
reaching into his coverall pocket, he had produced an old-fashioned straight razor
and flicked it open, staring at its blue and gilded blade in the half-light of the
apartment.
"Come here, Egon."
The voice had been dispassionate but commanding. In his soul, Egon felt he
was about to die, but he was unable to offer any resistance. Despite the total dread
that encompassed his very being, he managed to walk over to where Kluge stood in
the semi-darkness, just outside the bathroom.
Only the pale light of the single streetlamp down on the sidewalk below
found its way into the apartment through the one tiny window in the sitting room.
Staring at Kluge, Egon watched as he slowly unzipped his black coverall to the
waist, exposing the smooth white flesh of his chest.
Lifting the razor in his right hand, Kluge pressed the blade against his chest
until the steel corner suddenly punctured the skin. Pulling downward on the
polished bone handle, Kluge made an inch-long incision in his chest above his
heart.
Egon watched with horrible fascination as the blood welled up around the
blade and trickled down Kluge's chest like a rivulet of blackness in the shadow-
light of the apartment. As Kluge's hand took the blade away, letting it fall to the
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
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P
m
m
Y
Y
e
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Y
Y
r
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B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
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r r
floor, the distant hissing of the shower seemed to drown out any other sound save
Kluge's soft voice.
"Come here, Egon."
Clutching Egon's head between his hands, Kluge forced Egon's mouth over
the wound on his chest. "Drink."
Egon sucked at the wound, his mouth filling with Kluge's hot blood. He
swallowed, the hot, salty fluid clutching at his throat. He sucked harder,
swallowing more of Kluge's blood, feeling himself growing weak at the knees.
Kluge sensed his impending collapse and put one of his arms under Egon's armpits,
holding him up. "Drink," he commanded again.
Egon obeyed, and it became an almost sexual euphoria. Finally, when Egon
thought he could bear no more, Kluge pushed him away and let him collapse
boneless to the floor, at the same time retrieving the straight razor.
Walking into the bathroom, Kluge carefully wiped the handle clean of any
fingerprints, then dropped it into the tub by Stucke's feet. Still a little dazed, Egon
watched as Kluge returned to the darkened sitting room, pulled shut the bathroom
door, then turned and looked at him, smiling slightly as he placed his hand over the
cut on his chest and pinched it closed, holding it between his thumb and forefinger
for a few seconds while he stared at Egon. When he let go, it had stopped bleeding,
although an angry red welt remained where the wound had been. Egon simply
could not summon up the will to move.
Kluge zipped up his coverall, then leaned over and pulled Egon to his feet.
Half-dragging him by the wrist, he took him downstairs and out to the van. Shoving
him behind the wheel, he stared hard into Egon's eyes. "Go back to the warehouse
and collect Jurg's body. Take it out to the country and dump it."
Egon nodded.
"Any mistakes, and you'll wish you had died with him. Understand?" Kluge's
voice was as clear as ice water.
Egon nodded, wide-eyed, but Kluge leaned closer to grasp his bicep again.
"Do you understand, Egon? Say it."
"Yes, Master," Egon managed to whisper.
"Excellent." Kluge released him and smiled. "And Egon "
a
a
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T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
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Y
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B
r r
"Sir?"
"Get rid of the hair?"
Egon nodded without speaking, any thought of disobedience gone forever,
and started the van. . . .
Sitting opposite the woman Kluge had sent him to meet, in the noisy beer
hall, Egon found himself reflecting that it all seemed like it had happened a
hundred years ago. He wondered what it would be like in another hundred years,
when he would still be twenty-two. How old would the woman be?
The waiter brought two plates of wurst and sauerkraut, along with two steins
of beer, and set them down in front of the oddly matched couple. They consumed
the meal in silence, and after paying the bill, the woman handed Egon a slip of
paper with an address on it. Egon nodded; he and the woman both got up to leave.
«» «» «»
Outside, a black BMW pulled up in front of the beer hall and parked under
the "No Parking" symbol. Grinning, his two stainless steel teeth flashing in the light
of the streetlamp, Eberle tossed a POLICE VEHICLE sign up on the dash.
"Come on, John," he said. "Now I'm going to treat you to some real Austrian
food."
The two men got out of the car and headed inside. Past an entry vestibule, the
huge, low-ceilinged room was filled with long tables crowded with students
drinking to excess and all talking at the top of their voices. Scattered around the
edge of the room were smaller tables, and in the very back, obscured by the blue
haze of cigar and cigarette smoke, were half a dozen booths.
"This way," Eberle shouted, to make himself heard above the din. "I've
reserved us a booth in the back."
Grabbing Drummond by the elbow, he steered him down a half-flight of
stairs and past the noisy tables of students. As they approached the booths, a short, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]