Canceled Czech by Lawrence Block

Author:Lawrence Block
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller
ISBN: 9780451194046
Publisher: Jove
Published: 1983-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

I shook hands with Ari and Gershon and Haim. Zvi came out to join us and asked if I’d had trouble with the guard. None, I told him.

“I have another plan,” I said. “I think I can get the old Slovak butcher to cooperate with us. It will be easier that way than if we have to drag him screaming and kicking.”

“But how?”

“I’ll pretend I’m a Nazi come to rescue him.”

“You, a Nazi? He’ll never swallow it.”

“It’s worth a try. Listen.” I lowered my voice. “There’s a guard at the head of the stairs. I’ll go up there and take care of him, then I’ll get Kotacek out of his cell. As soon as you hear me on the stairs, all of you go limp. Collapse, fall down as if you’re unconscious. I’ll parade him right through here and out. As soon as we’re out of here, take up your positions again. Give us five minutes, and then join us at the house.”

“You think it will work?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Good luck.”

I went to the left rear corner of the building. The spiral staircase was there, even narrower and more winding than I had pictured it. I climbed an infinity of steps and flung a salute to the guard at the top.

“What are you doing here?”

“Who were you expecting? Adolf Hitler?”

The guard laughed. “Come to relieve me? I wasn’t due for relief for another hour. What time is it, anyway?”

“The schedule’s changed. You didn’t hear?”

“I never hear anything. I just watch this bastard sleep.” He looked at me. “You’re new here?”

“My first week of night duty.”

“Dull as hell, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Say, what’s that?”

“Where?”

“There…”

He looked, and I used the pipe. It continued to surprise me, the ease with which a man could be rendered unconscious. The guard dropped without a sound. I fumbled through his pockets for a key to the cell, found it, opened the door, and maneuvered him inside. I didn’t bother to tie him up or gag him. I would lock him in the cell on the way out and that would keep him out of harm’s way.

The cell was small, barren, unpleasant. At the rear, below the tiny window, Kotacek lay sprawled on a sagging cot. He was sleeping with his mouth open. He was even uglier than his pictures—a wide face of sagging skin, pockmarks around the nose, a majority of teeth missing. He was sleeping in his clothes, a gray shark-skin suit with wide lapels that had been too long out of a cleaner’s hands. His body odor wafted up from the bed at me. He reeked.

There was no time to spare, but at first I couldn’t move. I could only stand at the side of the bed looking down at him. You’ve been rescued after all, I thought. It was impossible. It took a Nazi nymphomaniac and a quartet of Stern Gang assassins, but we’ve got you just about out of this little fix, Mr. Kotacek. Though right now I’m hard put to explain why any of us bothered.

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