Intrigue in Geneva Episode 9
–
No. He had witnessed a calculated, cold-blooded murder. A shudder of fear ran through him.
The pianist made a decision. He threw his cigarette butt into the snow and shut the door. He returned to the dining room, poured a large brandy, drank it down in one and waited with the other staff for the arrival of the police.
* * *
A police inspector had questioned him for over an hour. He had apologised profusely but it had all happened so quickly. He wasn’t able to recall the number plate of the car or give an accurate description of the woman or of the German couple, who had vanished just before the police arrived. The shock had been terrible—surely the inspector could understand that.
* * *
Anton frowned as he concentrated on the road. The snow whipped faster, flakes spinning and bouncing, hitting the windscreen unrelentingly. The wipers were set on high speed and swung backwards and forwards, losing their fight to sweep the snow aside. The weather forecast had been remarkably accurate, Anton thought despondently. Visibility had decreased markedly in the last hour. He glanced in the rear view mirror. Now he had two injured operatives on his hands. This would slow them down considerably.
Anton turned to Sami and growled in Hebrew, “What the hell happened back there?”
Sami twisted in his seat to look at Dvora, then turned back to Anton and grunted in pain. “I don’t know, but something terrible. She’s never lost her nerve before.”
Dvora stirred as she heard their voices. Familiar voices. She forced herself to raise her head and blinked slowly. The back of her skull throbbed. What had hit her? She touched the back of her head lightly with the tips of her fingers. It felt wet and sticky. Immediately she recalled the horror of the restaurant, and the German tourist pretending to fire a gun at her. Except that he wasn’t a German tourist.
Her stomach clenched and churned.
“Stop the car. I’m sick,” she groaned.
Anton braked and swerved onto the side of the road. Before the car had come to a halt, Dvora opened the door and lurched out into the night air. She retched and then vomited the wine and the remains of the dreadful meal into the gutter. She sank to her knees in the freezing slush. The cold brought on a violent shivering fit. Anton leapt out of the car and pulled her roughly to her feet.
“Dvora, we have to go. Get in the car.”
She nodded and allowed herself to be helped back into the back seat. Sami opened a thermos of tea and poured a cup, handed it back to Dvora.
“Drink it.”
Dvora obeyed, and felt the warmth of the liquid hit her stomach.
Anton pulled back onto the road. His cold blue eyes flicked to the rear view mirror and he asked, “Is he dead?”
