The Other Son (37 page)

Hector curled up as much as he could and seemed to understand his fate. He wasn't going to get out of there alive.

“Take Lothar and get out of here, now!” he cried.

Then more bullets hit the car, still not reaching Hector. It was unlikely to stay that way, Sophie knew that. The snipers just needed to find the right position.

“Can you get up and run?” she asked Lothar.

A car windshield exploded above her. A bullet flew past from behind, brushing against her hair and thudding into the tarmac.

She froze, unable to move at all.

Aron lay with his sniper's rifle on the roof of a building on the other side of the multistory garage, opposite Leszek and Hasani. He was higher up than they, had a better view, and was searching the buildings around the garage through his sights.

The man who had shot Hector was hidden in a church tower. Aron told Leszek and Hasani to fire in that direction. They blew him to pieces. But it was too late, Hector was hit, and they had revealed their positions. After that it was almost impossible to find the Hankes' men. They were intelligently deployed and kept moving, trying to get closer to Hector. The Hankes had the upper hand, and Aron had to change his aim many times, as well as his location. Every second, every shot fired, could mean the difference between life or death.

But now he abandoned his primary task for a while to carry out the second thing he had planned for, without anyone else's knowledge.

Aron switched off his radio, made himself unreachable. He lay there stretched out on his stomach, his eye glued to the telescopic sight, examining the car behind which Sophie was hiding, and found her head.

He breathed out, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle lurched, the car window exploded. He couldn't see Sophie, didn't know if he'd hit her. He kept the rifle aimed at the car, waiting for her to show herself.

Aron switched the radio on again. Leszek's voice in his ear.

“
Come in, One, come in, One! Require assistance! Number Three shot. Unable to hold them.
”

Aron aimed his sights at the rooftop opposite and saw Leszek disappear from his post. Aron swung the rifle to the left. Through the telescopic sight he could see Hasani lying flat on his stomach beside his rifle, blood everywhere, badly shot up, dead.

“One here. Must have been interference,” Aron said into the microphone.

Leszek's voice, breathless.

“
I'm getting out of here, I'm going to try to reach Hector.
”

Aron looked toward the roof of the garage again. He could see firing around Hector's location. He couldn't see the gunmen. Quickly he tried to find Sophie. She wasn't visible anywhere.

A car came driving up the ramp at high speed, a Subaru. Aron looked at the driver through the sights.

Jens Vall.

Sophie was lying down. A car was heading up the ramp fast, its engine revving hard. It stopped, doors opened.

She felt her panic growing. Her stomach clenched. There was a shrill screech as the car reversed at high speed behind her, rounded a corner, hit some parked cars, and dragged them with it. She glanced out quickly.

Jens's Subaru was heading toward her with its hatchback door open. Sophie didn't think, just stood up and threw herself into the trunk; the seats were folded down and she rolled forward, hitting her shoulder but without feeling any pain. Jens carried on in reverse, toward Lothar. He did the same as Sophie, and threw himself in.

“Keep going back!” Lothar yelled.

Jens hesitated.

“Do as he says!” Sophie cried.

Shots hit the car.

Jens reversed at high speed toward Hector and crashed into the shot-up wreck. Hector was lying there, curled up.

Lothar lay on his stomach; Sophie held on to his legs and he reached out a hand to his father.

Hector grasped it and pushed off. Lothar dragged him into the car, then screamed something to Jens, who accelerated forward at high speed.

Hector was lying half inside the car as Jens aimed for the downward ramp. Bullets were still slamming into the roof and sides, shattering the windows. Each moment seemed endless.

Jens swerved onto the ramp, got under cover, and kept on going down at high speed.

“Albert?” Sophie shouted to Jens.

“He's not here. No one is…just shooters.”

Koen de Graaf was dressed as a bicycle courier. He'd been following the drama from his position on the top floor of an office building.

Koen was feeling the after-effects of the smack. He worked well like that. His emotions were contained, the world was soft and manageable. Everything had gone well to start with. Then he had lost control, both of the situation and of his men.

Hector's men had stayed well away from their boss. Koen had been counting on the exact opposite—that because they knew Hector, and Hector alone, was the target, they'd try to protect him as closely as possible.

Instead Hector had stood there alone, with the woman and the boy. One shot seemed to have hit him. But that wasn't enough.

A car had burst in on the situation. Sucking up Sophie, Lothar, and Hector like a fucking vacuum cleaner.

Koen's gunmen had opened fire on it, but it had disappeared down the ramp.

Koen scratched his cheek hard, watching developments with deep concentration. When he realized they weren't going to stop the car, he left the office, took the elevator down, walked out, and went around to the back of the building. His bicycle was parked there. It was pale blue, with drop handlebars and studded tires—very advanced, and very fast.

He zigzagged between the cars, cycled through the middle of a traffic jam, went through red lights, rode on the sidewalk for a while, predicting other people's behavior. Heroin was made for cyclists….

He had studied in this city. The University Hospital was up ahead. That was Koen's only chance. He took it.

Jens forced his way through the traffic in the shot-up car. It was too light, too everyday. People were staring at them. He called Mikhail on his phone.