Finally they disappeared behind the fence. His neck hurt from being turned at such an unnatural angle, Radu had to relent and leave the dancing girls behind him. When they parked in the garage, the sudden silence deafened him.
“Come on. Out you go,” Heinz ordered him, holding the door open for him to slide from the high position of the seat and land his feet firmly on the cement outside. Briefly he dared look up at his new father who just leered at him.
“Radu! Hurry! Come see your new home, dear!” Greta called from the front door of the house.
Night had almost swallowed the entire sky, leaving little visible to him, but he did notice that the front garden looked much like the park in Cluj where he used to sit by the pond. At least that made him feel a little better about the strange surroundings in the strange country. In his pocket he clutched the tarot card, the last thing he remembered stealing in his own country; then he made his way to the house to join his new, somewhat dominant mother. Radu wondered why she had not asked for it back yet. Perhaps she had forgotten about it, he hoped, or maybe she had decided to let him keep it.
They ascended what felt like a thousand steps up the stairs, where the railing was carved from white stone, smoothed to perfectly shaped balusters. Their form entertained him as he passed, the repetition of their fat bellies and ornate feet replacing one another with each step he took behind Greta.
“There is your room,” she smiled as they reached the top of the stairs. His bedroom was at the end of the long wide corridor. Radu waited for her to take him there, but she appeared to be preoccupied by something urgent and motioned for him to go ahead. He raced down the long hallway towards the open door with its white wood and golden handle.
Greta punched in a number. While she waited for the call to be answered she sat at the top of the stairs, overlooking the foyer and the staircase. From her lookout she could see Radu’s room and the whole of the corridor while also being able to survey the ground floor and anyone coming up. It was safe to talk. She was alone for now.
“Where is this Cleave now?” she asked under her breath and listened to a brief report. It was not a pleasing revelation and she scowled. “You are moving too slowly, you fucking imbecile. I had a check done on this man and believe me, Markus, he has survived many ordeals that would have been the end of most other men. Do not underestimate his intelligence or his ability to disappear. He is an award winning investigative journalist who has buried many so-called untouchable people in high ranks and you should move swiftly and mercilessly against him,” she growled through her teeth as quietly as she could.
Heinz entered through the front door below and she quickly moved away from the balustrade to conceal her presence there so that she could complete her call this time.
“Listen, I want that camera. I want that evasive rat on a slab before he destroys this entire venture that I have carefully designed over the past months, do you hear me?” she almost shouted to convey the seriousness of Sam Cleave’s demise. “I don’t have time for this shit, Markus. I don’t have time for anything except locating the deck. Without it there will be no point in pursuing this end. Now, I have to go. Do not call me with bad news.”
Chapter 14 — When Nina was Late
It was quiet in the entire ward as midnight came, where Sam pretended to be asleep. He had refused an IV just a few hours prior, feigning a severe headache to the grouchy charge nurse who always looked at him as if he was a puppy that just pissed on her carpet. Even the pills they gave him for the migraine were now crushed and flushed after he palmed it under the watchful eye of the sour old witch. Sam thought of her as a Mother Superior of some rigid, PMS-afflicted order where men like him were castrated for Christmas.
He knew his time had already run out, given the chain of events of the past three days. If they got to Mueller, they were on their way to kill him and he had to get dressed and sneak out immediately. What aggravated his situation was that he was alone in a room with the living dead man, who would not do as much as clap his teeth together to make alarm should Sam be attacked by an assassin. The only consolation was that Nina had the camera with her now and that they could do nothing to stop the information from leaking, even if they killed him.
Stealthily Sam put on his shoes in the dim hallway light spilled that spilled over the shiny floor to light his way. The locker door creaked loudly as he winced, pulling it slowly open until he could get his hand in to retrieve the warm black knit sweater Nina left him. Every bit of camouflage helped for him to escape the certain death that awaited him if he stayed here.
He hoped Nina had gotten in touch with his best friend, Patrick, by now. As soon as Paddy would get his hands on those photos many people in high places would fall from their thrones. Being a newly appointed agent at Britain’s elite secret service organization was a great step forward for Patrick Smith. There he could chase international perpetrators who used to elude him when he was just a detective chief inspector in Edinburgh.
But for now Sam had his own ass to worry about. Nurse Clara Mueller had already warned him and he had to heed her words, because, if these animals were willing to torture her family for his whereabouts, they would most certainly work the plan through to the end — camera or no camera. Since the incident Sam had not had time to even follow up on the speculation about the party he was with, or if their next of kin even knew of their despicable deaths. He made a mental note to check the missing persons reports once he was safe.
He could hear two nurses talking in hushed tones at the ward’s reception desk at the entrance of the corridor where the double doors bore the large red letters of a sign — AUSGANG. With the nurse’s station situated right before the Exit sign, Sam knew that he had to get them away from there to get out. His only alternative would be to wait until they do their rounds, which, with his luck lately, may just be too late. What a shame it would be if he was killed while waiting for a pretty German nurse to go and take a piss.
Sam had to think quickly. He looked around the room to see if there was anything he could use to draw them away, but of course it could perhaps lead to his own discovery, so he had to misdirect them somehow. But how? Feeling an inkling of panic stirring inside him for the waste of precious time, Sam ran his hand through his hair in frustration. One of the night nurses was the miserable old Mother Superior and one of her trainees. They would be tough to convince to let him leave and telling them that his life depended on it would not exactly persuade them either. He would probably end up in the psych ward then.
What can I use? I’ll clog the toilets and send them into a panic to call maintenance while I slip out, he thought in amusement. Or no, I’ll cause a power out and slip out before the generators come on. Maybe I should just throw old Methuselah out of his bed and when they come to help, just fetter them with his IV tubing…
Then it hit him. Methuselah!
Sam snuck over to his bed where he had laid his thick sweater and he pulled the pack of cigarettes out like a wad of cash. As quietly as he could he approached the old man’s bed. He did not know his name, which made it a bit awkward, but he had no time for social embarrassment.
“Excuse me,” he whispered evenly. Nothing. He stood a little closer and repeated his summoning, this time with a tad more force behind his voice. Nothing.
Should I poke him? Sam pondered.
A heavy hand slammed down on his arm in the dark of the room and Sam jumped and was barely able to suppress a scream as his heart exploded from fright.