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Baldur Wass produced a small black handgun from his pocket. He pointed it not at Ferdie, but at Aiden. “Clumsy,” he said with a slow smile. “Been wondering about you. Were we moving too fast for your people, our little…what do they call us…splinter group? Why? Because we want to get the job done now, and not wait for the old order, the plodding old Fatherland Front, to make its move?”
They were still ignoring Elena. She saw a couple of long-stemmed wineglasses on the table. She moved very slowly toward them, and toward Aiden.
“Keep away from me,” Aiden said softly. “You’ll only get in the way.”
She kept moving, as if to be closer to him.
“Very touching,” Ferdie said with a raw edge to his voice. “Not like you to let a clinging woman stop you, Anton.”
Ferdie was watching Aiden. So were the other two men, waiting for him to move or try to talk himself out of it. Wass, with the gun in his hand, was the closest to Elena.
She picked up the glass slowly, as if looking for water in it. Or better, wine. Then, in one move, she struck it against the table and it smashed into jagged, dagger-like edges. Without more than glancing at it, she lunged at Baldur Wass, aiming for the wrist of the hand holding the gun. She caught flesh. Immediately, there was streaming blood.
Wass gave a high-pitched shriek and dropped the weapon.
Aiden dived for it, catching it as it hit the floor and exploded with an ear-splitting shot.
Elena glanced at the far wall and saw how the bullet had buried itself in the plaster.
The door to the passage burst open and Gabrielle stood there with a short-muzzled gun pointed at Ferdie. Wass was ashen, blood gushing out of his slashed wrist. Marek was trying to stem the flow.
“Come on!” Gabrielle said to Elena, then to Aiden, gesturing toward the door. “We’ve got to get out of here—now!”
“Where?” Aiden demanded. “There’s no way, except through the club.”
“Follow me!” she ordered.
“They’ll corner us,” Aiden replied. “Better to fight.”
“You can stay and fight if you want to,” Gabrielle said in a low, clear voice. “I’m taking Elena with me. It’s narrow, but she can make it.”
“She’s scared of heights,” Aiden said. It was true.
“She’s still got my dress!” Gabrielle replied, raising her eyebrows and smiling. “Do as you damn well want.” She turned to Elena. “Come on!”
Ferdie made a move toward her.
Gabrielle raised her gun. “I’m a very good shot,” she said levelly. “I can shoot you where it will not kill you, but you might wish it did. Want to try? I’ve nothing to lose if I do, but a lot to lose if I don’t get away. Come to think of it…” She lifted the muzzle to take a perfect shot at his crotch.
Aiden looked at Marek. “Shut Ferdie up before he talks us all into a gunfight.” As if Marek had agreed, Aiden walked over to Elena. “Go with Gabrielle. I’m coming right behind, when I’ve made sure these idiots don’t come after us. Wass will be useless, but Ferdie just might try.” He put his right arm around her, and she felt him push a folded piece of paper into her dress, at the side so it was under her arm. The list? No time to look now.
Elena was shocked when Gabrielle shot Ferdie, the bullet grazing his shoulder, enough to hold him from climbing up to the roof. Then she swung round and went straight out the door without looking to see if anyone was following her into the passageway. There was nothing she could do if they had.
Elena went after her. She should have been shaking with fear at the thought of scrambling along the roof’s edge, but she was not. Aiden was right: she was afraid of heights, but her real fear was falling off the roof in sheer paralysis and letting them all down.
She followed Gabrielle out of a trapdoor at the end of the corridor and onto the roof. She could only just see her in the dark, no more than a dense shadow ahead.
“Go straight after her, follow her,” Aiden said from behind. “Stay in the middle, then if you freeze, I can at least prod you forward.”
“I’m not going to freeze!” she lied. She could already feel herself losing control. Her stomach felt sick. She was dizzy, and she had not even reached the ledge. She tucked Gabrielle’s dress up around her waist and tied the flowing skirts into a bunch, then caught up with Gabrielle.
“Don’t let the bastards beat you,” Gabrielle whispered. “My father always used to say that!” Then she stepped out onto a ledge less than a foot wide and walked along it, as if she did it every day.
“Please, God!” Elena whispered into the near darkness, then followed after her.
CHAPTER
15
