THE GREEN KING (part 51)
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The Photographer
from Salzburg
‘Burn this
stuff,’ said Epke.
The two other
men, the false ambulance men, began pouring gasoline on the trunks after
shooting off the padlocks.
‘So, my dear
Lothar,’ said Epke, very softly, ‘we wanted to start our own personal
collection?’
The shot came
almost immediately, hitting Lothar right in the mouth. The impact from the nine
– millimeter fired point-blank threw the photographer backwards. He fell on one
of the trunks the men had set on fire.
‘Let him burn
with it,’ said Epke. ‘Now, your turn, kid. Why don’t you tell me all about this
letter?’
He raised the
barrel of his Luger and pressed it between Reb’s eyes. That gesture probably
cost him his life. Through the pane of the little window, the MPs misunderstood
its meaning. They opened fire, with a machine gun. At least two blasts ripped through
Epke, just when the yellow and blue flames the gasoline vividly lit up the
room. He collapse on Reb, which explains, not with standing the hypothetical
good aim of the marksman, the fact that Reb wasn’t hurt except for a scratch on
his right shoulder.
As for the
other two men, one tried to escape and was shot down on the threshold of the
door with the chimes. The other one fought back, after he had thrown against
the window the can of gasoline he was holding, which immediately caught fire.
Hidden by the thick smoke coming from the smouldering trunks, he managed to
hold off, by himself and for several minutes, the arrival of the policemen.
For nothing. He
reappeared in the form of a living torch, and was mercifully finished off.
Reb was dragged
outside, roughly at first, but was shown a little more consideration after the
intervention of a French officers. He was covered with blood, although the
blood was not his. Questioned by the Frenchman and his Austrian interpreter, he
gave only vague, meaningless answers, staring at them with his large grey
hallucinatory eyes.
TO BE CONTINUED
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I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
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