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In my heart of hearts, I believed it was our best shot at getting her to safety.
As for me?
I didn’t give a fuck about me.
Whatever it took to keep her safe, I would do without question.
Having convinced Lucia, I set about the second part of the plan.
I needed a blind – something to conceal my movements from Zollner while I shot at him.
So I crawled into the bedroom, pulled the sheets off the bed, and crawled back into the den.
A row of French windows faced the forest. They started about a foot above the floor and reached almost to the ceiling.
It was one of those windows that Zollner had shot a pane out of earlier to get our attention.
Now it was my turn to get his attention.
I crawled into the kitchen… reached up and pulled out the drawer with all the cutlery… and then crawled back to the French windows.
I drove knives through the bedsheet into the walls, basically using them as pushpins. When I was finished, the cloth covered the bottom half of the windows.
Then I cut out a dozen small holes in the bedsheet – big enough for me to see through with my hunting rifle, and low enough that I could comfortably aim through them while lying on the floor.
The sheet was white, which wasn’t ideal – it would reflect any light from the moon behind the clouds.
But the cabin’s interior was completely dark, and the woods outside weren’t much better. Zollner would have an extremely difficult time seeing anything in the shadows.
He would be able to see the muzzle flash each time I fired – but that would only help him see where I’d fired from.
Which meant I would have to move immediately each time I fired.
If he was using a night-vision scope, hopefully the muzzle flash in the pitch black would overload the optics and blind the fuckin’ asshole.
“O-ho, creating a hunting blind, are we?” Zollner called out with a cheerful laugh. “The gazelle turns the hunter’s tactics back on himself! Very clever! I guess this means the shooting will commence shortly, ja?”
I didn’t answer him – but he continued to talk.
“I’ve thought about it some more. To forestall any bloodshed, I’ll sweeten the deal further. I’ll tell you where I will deliver Fräulein Fioretti once she is in my possession. That way, you can come after her and rescue her. I don’t care what you do after I’ve been paid. I am supposed to deliver her someplace very close to Venice itself. Die Insel der Toten – how do you say it – the Island of the Dead, ja?”
I looked over at Lucia. “What the hell?”
“He means the Isle of San Michele,” she whispered. “It’s an island cemetery for all of Venice. Nona’s palazzo is across the water from it.”
Zollner kept talking. “There is a church on the island. I will deliver the Fräulein to your cousin there, at which point I will be paid and leave. You see? I have told you everything! Give her to me, then follow on our heels and rescue her once I’m gone. I do not care as long as I get paid.”
“Why don’t I just pay you triple whatever Aurelio’s paying you, and then you go away?” I shouted.
Zollner chuckled. “Ah, if only I could… but my reputation would be ruined! I would never be hired for another job again! No, I really must insist that you hand over the Fräulein.”
“Then I really must insist you go to HELL.”
Zollner sighed theatrically. “Is that your final answer?”
When I didn’t reply, he said, “So läuft der Hase! In German, that means, ‘So runs the rabbit.’ It’s along the lines of, ‘That’s the way the cookie crumbles.’”
“God, he never shuts up,” Lucia whispered.
