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“Mr. Kropp. You never cease to surprise me.”
I stopped. I slowly pulled the gun out of my pocket and held it loosely in my left hand, more to comfort myself than anything else.
“To have come this far, with so little experience and even less intelligence . . . I salute you, sir.”
“Where’s Natalia?” My voice sounded small and tinny, almost like a little kid’s.
“Here.”
His voice sounded right by my ear. I whirled around and saw them coming toward me, Natalia in front of him. He held the back of her neck with his left hand. In his right he held a tapered dagger.
They stopped about twenty feet away and Mogart smiled.
“I
’m glad to see you have taken care of Mr. Arnold,” he said, nodding toward the gun. “I never cared for that man.”
Natalia’s eyes were dry, but very red; she must have been crying. Her dark hair was tangled around her face and there was a large bruise near the hairline.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, cutting her eyes at Mogart. I said, “I brought the Sword, Mr. Mogart. Let her go.”
“First the gun, yes? It’s hardly necessary, Mr. Kropp, and you might make a terrible mistake. You might strike the wrong person.”
I thought about it. If I refused, he might stab Natalia before I had a chance to get off a shot, a shot that would probably miss. But I’d still have the Sword and he knew if he killed her there’d be no reason for me to let him live. But that didn’t really matter to me, since Natalia would be dead.
I threw the gun and it slid across the smooth floor into the shadows.
“Very good,” Mogart said. “Now, the Sword, please.”
“Let her go first.”
He laughed. “My, how bold we’ve become! But boldness, Mr. Kropp, can never be a substitute for intelligence.”
The dagger pressed into Natalia’s side. Her eyes went wide and she cried out, “Kropp!”
Mogart said, “Decide now, Alfred Kropp. Throw down the Sword or watch her die.”
Natalia was just one person and, like Mike said, what was one person when the whole world was at stake? If I refused to give him the Sword he’d kill Natalia; if I gave him the Sword he would probably kill her anyway and my sacred vow—and the only vow I ever made—would be broken.
I knew whatever decision I made would probably turn out to be wrong, as wrong as every decision I had made since this whole thing started. I kept screwing up and then just kept coming back for more. Maybe to fix it I needed to decide what the best thing to do was, and then do the opposite.
Looking at Mogart, I realized the plain truth was that he wasn’t my greatest enemy. My greatest enemy was the fifteen-year-old homeless loser holding the Sword of Kings.
“Choose, Mr. Kropp,” Mogart said softly.
I chose.
I tossed the Sword toward him. It clattered to the ground about halfway between us. I expected him to throw Natalia to the floor and dive on the Sword, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t even looking at the Sword; he was looking at me and I got that sinking feeling I had in Uncle Farrell’s apartment, right before Mogart rammed the Sword into his body.
“Don’t, Mr. Mogart,” I pleaded. “You don’t need to do that now. Don’t hurt her, please.”
“Oh, Mr. Kropp,” Mogart answered. “After all that has happened, have you learned so little?”
And with that he plunged the dagger into Natalia’s side.
49
