THE GREEN KING (part 45)
----------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------
The Photographer
from Salzburg
And now it was
in the heart of old Salzburg, parked once again, with no one in it. But the
licence number was the same, and it had the same scratch on the front right
fender.
Reb crossed the
square, with a blank look on his face, but suddenly appearing rather awkward
and limping more than before.
He was about
two hundred and fifty yards from the bell tower.
He reached it
twenty-five minutes later.
The passageway
was dark and narrow; without even reaching, Reb could have touched the arch. He
walked about thirty feet, going by dark shop, before he saw the painted sign,
black on a white background, rather clumsy: K.-H. LOTHER – ART PHOTOGRAPHER. As
he pushed the glass door, he set off the high-pitched tinkling of a small bell.
He entered a low room, the walls and ceilings of which were uncovered stone. On
either side of him were large wooden counters, but there were empty, as were
the recessed shelves.
A voice, coming
from a back room, said: ‘I am here.’
All the way in
the back, a cloth curtain covered the frame of a door. Reb drew it aside and
walked into the next room. He found himself face with four men, one of whom
immediately pressed a gun barrel against his left temple.
‘Don’t move and
don’t scream.’
He recognize
two of the men; the very ones who had been in the front seat of the military
ambulance. He identified the third one from the description Emma Donin gave him
at Reichenau: Epke. He had never seen the fourth one. They asked him where he
had been and why it had taken him so long to arrive from the Old Marked square,
which, even if one was on foot and limping, was only two or three minutes away.
TO BE CONTINUED
____________________________________
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar