A voice called impatiently from upstairs and Muller appeared on the landing. ‘For God’s sake, hurry, boy!’ he shouted, and then he saw Kane.
He pulled a Luger from his pocket and fired one wild shot that ricocheted from the wall, causing them all to duck instinctively, and then he turned back into his study and slammed the door.
Kane moved cautiously up to the landing and flattened himself against the wall. He reached over quickly and tried the door. It was locked. Jordan and Jamal crossed to the other side and they waited. Muller made no sound.
Kane nodded to Jamal and the Somali moved forward silently, fired a long burst that shattered the lock, and kicked the door open. He jumped back to the shelter of the wall, but Muller made no move. After a moment, Kane peered round the corner into the room. It was empty, and in the far wall, another door stood open.
It gave on to a back stairway and he led the way, moving cautiously down into the darkness. The door at the bottom was closed, and when he opened it, he found himself standing in the garden.
‘Do you think he’s still there?’ Jordan whispered.
Kane nodded. ‘He must be, I locked the gate, and he’s too small to get over that wall without help.’
A bullet sang through the bushes and dunted against the wall a few feet away. They crouched down and Jamal moved in beside them.
‘Don’t be a fool, Muller,’ Kane called. There are three of us and we’re well armed. You don’t stand a chance.’
Somewhere, a bird, disturbed by the unaccustomed noise, lifted through the bushes, and there was an uneasy fluttering from the doves that perched on the roof of the house nightly.
‘We’d better split up,’ Kane told Jordan softly. ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere. But for God’s sake, don’t start any indiscriminate firing. You might get me instead of Muller.’
Jordan grinned. ‘I’ll be careful.’
Jamal moved away to the right and Kane started to crawl forward. The ground was wet with dew and he got to his feet and stood in the shadow of a fig tree, acutely aware of every sound. And then another shot was fired and Jordan cried, ‘He’s making for the gate, Kane! Head him off!’
Kane moved forward quickly and came out on to the path as Muller appeared some twenty or thirty feet away. The German ran to the gate and vainly tried to open it as Jordan emerged from the bushes and joined Kane.
The German turned to face them, despair in his eyes. He held the Luger close against his right thigh and Kane lifted the sub-machine gun. ‘Don’t be a fool.’
Muller raised the Luger and fired, and Jordan seemed to catch his breath sharply and stumbled sideways into
Kane. Muller raised the Luger again, and Jamal stepped out of the bushes and fired a burst that drove the German back against the gate.
Jordan’s face was twisted with pain and Kane could feel blood trickling across his hand as he supported him. He called to Jamal and the Somali lifted Jordan in his arms and carried him back towards the house.
Kane was about to follow, when Muller groaned. He hesitated and then walked down to the gate and dropped to one knee beside the German. His eyes were open and glazed with pain, and his chest seemed completely shattered.
Kane leaned down and said urgently, ‘Muller, can you hear me? Where are the others?’
But he was wasting his time. Muller’s eyeballs retracted and blood erupted from his mouth. His head fell to one side and he lay still.
Kane stayed there for a moment, thinking, and then he dragged the body off the path into the bushes and unlocked the gate. He went back up the path to the house.
Jamal had stripped Jordan’s shirt from his body. The bullet had caught him beneath the left breast, but a close examination showed that it had been deflected by a rib, scoring a deep groove in the flesh, which bled freely, but was not otherwise dangerous.
As Jamal tore the shirt into strips and quickly bandaged the wound, Jordan opened his eyes. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said. ‘You’ve still got Skiros to think about.’