17.
There’s comes a scream that’s
followed by a dreadful silence.
A dead silence.
When I peer out the door’s safety
glass, I see a man lying on the corridor floor in a pool of his own blood. It’s
the uniformed guard who until moments ago, had been operating the monitors. I
see another man come around the corner, walking at a stride and gait that seems
as if he owns the joint. It’s the hairless man from the train. Einhorn, the IAA
man. He must have gotten away from the police and followed us here on the same
train. How he managed to dodge the Milan police and make the train, I have no
idea. I only know that he is here. Here now. He’s got an automatic gripped in
both hands, combat position, and he’s approaching the door with it.
I take a step back as he raises the
weapon up, tr
