Free Krysalis: Krysalis by John Tranhaile Page B

“Ready?” he mouthed.
    Anna nodded. A quick look up the banisters, and she was running.
    David called, “Anna! Is that you?”
    She had nearly reached the front door. But if she went out that way, David, she realized, might see her, and follow.
    Hide.
The cellar.
She raced on, passport clutched to her breast, until she reached the stairs to the basement. At the bottom she stopped and raised her head, listening. Above, all was quiet. What could David be up to …?
    Gerhard, meanwhile, had folded up the Krysalis file and stuffed it into an inside pocket of his overcoat. Now he moved silently to the windows to position himself behind one of the wall-length drapes. From there he could keep an eye on both the study door and the street below. Still no sign of Anna.
    He took his Colt .45 out of another pocket and silently checked the magazine. Seven rounds. This gun had not been fired for a long time; there were traces of rust on the breech. Gerhard stared at it, conscious that sweat had broken out on his forehead. The shot would make a noise. A lot of noise.
    Barzel made him keep a weapon always ready; but this would be the first time he’d had to use it.
    He tried to swallow, couldn’t. He was afraid of the gun.
    Where the hell was Anna?
    He’d deliberately chosen to send her on ahead, almost as a decoy, because if either of them was going to be caught he wanted it to be Anna, and if the worst came to the worst he might be able to use her interception as cover for his own escape. But she hadn’t runinto David and she hadn’t left the house. He stared down into the street. Empty.
    What would Lescombe do next? Where would he go?
    Gerhard wiped away the sweat with the back of his gun hand. The Colt weighed heavily in his palm; the jerky movement all but caused him to drop it. He was shaking. Would he be able to pull the trigger?
    Footsteps overhead.
    Gerhard stared up at the ceiling, trying to map David Lescombe’s movements. A door closed. That meant
… what did that mean?
    Someone was coming downstairs. Gerhard’s throat ached as if with tonsillitis. Now the steps had almost reached the study door. Now they were outside, on the landing.
    Now they had stopped, and silence filled the house.
    Gerhard tried to release the safety catch. It was stiff from disuse. He jabbed at the lever, accidentally knocking the gun barrel against the wall. The noise of metal meeting plaster sounded impossibly loud; breath forced itself between his teeth in a gasp. Another second and he’d be gibbering. He clenched his lower lip between his teeth and somehow managed to stop the shakes.
    “Anna,” he heard David shout. “Anna, where are you, love? Come on, darling, stop playing games!”
    The safety catch was off, the Colt ready to fire. Gerhard raised the gun until it was pointing at the door. But he couldn’t hold it steady. He squeezed even further into the embrasure, and held his breath. A hand rattled the door knob. Movement in the street simultaneously dragged Gerhard’s gaze downward. Anna had emerged onto the pavement and was running toward his car. Then the study door opened, and Gerhard convulsivelytightened his grip on the gun, refocusing all his attention on the room.
    “Anna!” Very loud …
“Anna!”
    A long pause. From where he was standing, Gerhard could not see whether David had actually entered the room. What if he crossed to the window?
Suppose he looked out and saw Anna in the street!
    Gerhard closed his eyes. By now he was shaking so badly he’d become terrified of dropping the gun, the floor was parquet, no carpet to deaden the sound, Lescombe couldn’t fail to hear
that.
But if he tried to move …
    The study door closed. More footsteps … now outside, on the landing. Gerhard let out all the breath in his lungs.
Move!
    He tiptoed to the door, opened it a crack. David was upstairs again. Gently, gently … out the door, close it … listen, wait … silence.
    Gerhard bent to take off his shoes. Next second he