The old man’s feet scrabbled for purchase on the floor, but before he could gain steady ground, Gernot flung the doctor against one of the supporting columns. Old bones met a hard concrete pillar. There was an audible crunch. Amhurst gasped and fell over, gripping his ribs and wheezing for breath.
Gernot turned away — Amhurst already forgotten — and strained to see better in the dark basement. Everything was backlit by the windows above and the shadows played tricks with his eyes, fooling his brain into perceiving threats that weren’t there.
It didn’t take long for him to realize the waiting game had begun. There was only one way out — the staircase, which would become a kill box. The windows were too high and too thick to consider using. Gernot looked at the iron giant that stood like a hulking specter in the middle of the room. With no power to run it, and testing still a ways off, he couldn’t use it to escape. His watch was the only feasible exit strategy — for him.
He could see a little better now, so he went to one of the tables, knelt behind it and used a hand to cover the illumination of the watch face lest it reveal his location. If that happened, the story would be over before it started.
Pressing the knobs quickly, he toggled the display until it read ‘LOC1’ in bright LCD lettering. This was his route out of here. Satoshi was loyal, but he would have to fend for himself. Gernot would have liked to kill the man outright; he could have used him as bait to draw out the American — if it was the American. Or perhaps there was another one?
Gernot’s hand hovered over the button, a hairbreadth away from leaving this time and place. No! He wanted — needed — to see the stranger’s face. He had to stop this intruder from interrupting the time sequence he’d worked so hard to preserve.
But it had been many repetitive months since Der Attentäter had killed someone new. Until now, it had just been the defenseless bag of bones that was Amhurst and his own comrades. Would he be out of practice?
A noise to his left. Or maybe his mind was creating imaginary sounds. It wasn’t important. Gernot curled his fingers around the edge of the table and flipped it over in one sudden motion.
Glass beakers and metal pots smashed, chemicals hitting the ground in a liquid rush of lethal combinations. Flames erupted in an instant, and the room flared into light. The sudden burst assaulted his eyes and he almost missed noticing a figure in black standing in front of him.
The man was holding up one arm to block out the heat and light of the flames. With his other, he held a pistol. But before he could pull the trigger, Satoshi slammed into him. The gun dropped as he attempted to brace his fall.
Satoshi’s fists flew down on the man in black, but he blocked most of them with effective defense moves. Gernot’s yakuza of the bōryokudan even had to move deftly to avoid an elbow from the intruder. Satoshi rolled to the side and came to his feet while the other man sprang up at the same moment.
Satoshi reached back and pulled out his twin wakizashis — traditional Japanese swords that were two feet in length.
The man in black altered his posture, readying himself for the lethal blades. This stranger knew how to fight.
Gernot remembered the gun that had fallen and glanced away from the skirmish in front of him, searching for the weapon. There! He lunged for the gun, and scooped it up. But he he fired too quickly, his depth perception off in the darkened lab. Still, the man was hit a little off center, causing him to spin as he dropped.
But not for long. To Gernot’s amazement the man staggered back up. The shot should have ripped through his insides, but it appeared to have only winded him. Son of a bitch! The man had body armor beneath his clothes.
Satoshi rushed forward, one weapon aloft. “Don’t!” Gernot called out, closing the distance between them. The Asian pulled back, but held his wakizashis at the ready.
Now it was easy to see the man’s face in the shimmering light of the flames burning harmlessly on the concrete floor.
It can’t be! Gernot hid his shock as he realized that it was the cop from the diner — in 1986. How could he be here in 1948?
“Well, I guess I can believe anything. Mr. Tannor, we meet again.”
Tannor had recovered from his instability and he stood straight now, eyeing Gernot with open hostility. “I’ve never met you before, but I’m pretty sure if I had I would have killed you then.”
“You don’t remember our little chance meeting? Bad business about your boss dying. Then again, that bullet was meant for you. I see now why they wanted you dead. You are most resilient.”
Tannor said nothing to that.
“Hand over the watch,” Gernot ordered. With an extra timepiece, he might not have to kill Satoshi after all, and the Asian could join him in the leap back. This interruption was proving to be an interesting and beneficial turn of events. He watched with smug satisfaction as Tannor began disengaging the clasp of his watch.
Suddenly, a harsh whining noise screeched off the walls of the underground lab. Gernot started in surprise, his eyes snapping around in search of another member of Tannor’s group. He saw no one, and had a frantic millisecond of confusion before he realized the high-pitched ringing came from the weapon in his own hand.
Gernot tried to fling the gun aside, but it was too late — an explosion ripped his right hand away. He screamed and fell, clenching his bloody stump and watching in horror as blood pulsed from the wound. He pulled his arm close to his body in a pathetic attempt to stop the blood loss. He didn’t even feel the shards of hot metal that seared into his face and burnt his clothes.
Satoshi’s eyes bulged with shock from seeing Gernot covered in his own blood and clinging to a stubby wrist, but he recovered quickly and moved to attack Tannor. The cop was already on the move, leaping over objects to evade the dangerous swords Satoshi wielded.
Gernot slid on his back to get away from the action and bumped against the table he’d overturned. Flames were shooting up from the other side. He saw that the meteorite was on the concrete floor a few feet away. It had broken into two pieces; one was as large as a coconut, and the smaller chunk was the size of a golf ball.
He leaned against the table, gasping for breath and trying to evaluate the situation. He needed to find something to use as a tourniquet or he would bleed to death right here.
A loud banging sound erupted. Gunshots? Was Satoshi down? He was running out of time. In desperation, Gernot released his hold on the stump of his right hand and grabbed the larger fragment of the meteorite. He dragged the rock over to him and pulled it onto his lap.
He heard the crack of shattering glass — but something about it didn’t fit in with the sounds of fighting. It came from his far right, where just seconds ago he’d heard Satoshi and the American tussling.
And then Amhurst was beside him, hands coming down with something aimed at his stomach. Gernot reached out on instinct, bringing his left hand up to defend against the attack on his right side. He fended it off, but the pain in his injured arm was now searing through his whole body and he was quickly losing strength. Going into shock felt imminent.
When Amhurst raised his arms again, Gernot was unable to protect himself in time. A broken beaker slashed down into his gut. Gernot screamed. Amhurst twisted the crude weapon ravenously, tearing into Gernot’s intestines. Gernot flung his left arm out in wild reaction, knocking the frail and still wheezing doctor aside.