The Ludwig Conspiracy(11)

“Have what?”

“You know what I mean. Do you have it?”

Steven hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “I . . . I think so,” he said. “In my briefcase on the table. Although I don’t know—”

“Is there a back way out?” the woman interrupted.

Steven pointed to the bookshelves on the back wall. “There’s a little door beside the toilet, out into the backyard. Do you really think that . . .”

Just then the man’s deep voice spoke up again outside. “Listen, Herr Lukas, we can always do it another way. Last time we only searched your shop. Next time we’ll burn it. All that paper—what do you bet it’ll burn so bright that they can see for miles around? So how about it? Think of the money you can earn. One . . .”

“We have to get out of here,” the woman beside him hissed. “And don’t forget your briefcase.”

“Two . . .”

Steven swore quietly. He didn’t get the impression that the men out there were joking. If he gave them the little treasure chest, they would presumably leave him alone. And they’d also just offered him twenty thousand euros. Twenty thousand! That would pay the rent until the Easter after next, maybe even longer. He wouldn’t need customers. He could keep his own company in the shop. His eyes went to the briefcase on the table.

“Two and a half . . .”

“Don’t do it,” the woman whispered, obviously reading his thoughts. “You don’t think they’ll just hand you a few euro bills and let you go, do you? They killed my uncle, and they’ll do the same to you. Faster than you can say Principal Decree of the Imperial Diet, my antiquarian friend.”

Steven looked nervously at the barricaded display window. He could see the outlines of two broad-shouldered figures on the other side of it. One of them took a small black object that looked suspiciously like a pistol from under his jacket.

“Three!”

“For crying out loud, what have I gotten myself mixed up with here?”

Steven snatched up his briefcase and ran for the back door with the unknown woman. At the same time, he heard the bookcases along the wall fall to the floor with a crash behind him, and someone climbed through the wrecked window.

They’re going to torch my books. My beautiful books.

Audrey Hepburn hauled him out into the backyard, which was full of garbage cans, bicycles, and old junk, and surrounded by the high walls of buildings. An old neighbor stared curiously down at them over the geraniums in his window box. Bavarian folk music came from a radio nearby. To their left was the wall, as tall as a man, between his and the neighboring property. A paper-recycling bin overflowing with newspapers stood beside it.

“This way,” the strange woman called, hurrying toward the wall.

With catlike agility, she hauled herself up onto the bin, climbed the wall, and the next moment she had disappeared. Hesitating, Steven looked around. When he heard footsteps coming, he heaved himself up on the recycling bin, too, cursing. A brief glance over the wall showed him another yard beyond it, with a broad entrance leading into the street. It was at least six feet to the ground.

“Come on, jump,” the woman urged him. She was already on her way out of the yard. “They’re right behind us.”

Steven could hear shouting behind him now. He closed his eyes, then spread his arms wide, jumped down to the asphalt of the yard next door, stumbled, and ran to the exit, clutching his briefcase close to his body. When he was finally out in the street, the woman closed the double doors after him with a metallic clatter. Next moment there was loud hammering at the doors inside the yard.

“We’ll take my car.” The strange woman ran out into the street. “It’s just around the corner. I only hope you don’t suffer from claustrophobia.”

She made for a yellow Mini Cooper, and opened the door. Then she took off her dark glasses for the first time. The green scarf had slipped back, revealing a sternly pinned-up chignon. Steven put her age at somewhere in her late twenties.

She really does look like Audrey Hepburn, he thought. Or Eva Marie Saint in North by Northwest. Only I’m no Cary Grant.

“Get in. I’ll take you to my place. You’ll be safe there.” The stranger’s eyes twinkled at Steven. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unlike those guys behind us.”

“Only if you promise to tell me what all this is about,” Steven said breathlessly.

“I promise. But first we’ve got to get out of here.”

He could still hear the furious hammering on the door in the backyard. Audrey Hepburn slammed the car door, turned the ignition key, and stepped on the gas.