Kristof Kranz bellowed like the proverbial bull! “You’re dead! You’ve been dead for fifty years!” He was seeing a ghost! Was he going mad?
The seconds flew by. The auction was over.
Dead silence flooded the room as all eyes turned to look at the wrinkled, skeletal figure holding a World War II Lugar. He had been tall. Now he was stooped. His bald, head resembled a naked skull. He was dressed in an old SS Uniform from the war. He must be 90 years old.
Kranz’s body shook; his frightened eyes seemed to pop from his head; his voice a mere croak! “Your mutilated body was dumped at our door in a sack! You were dead! You left us to starve to death!”
The old man said nothing; just glared at his son. He finally spoke; the words a whisper. “You wanted me dead. Your own father. Your jailhouse mobsters killed the wrong man. My best friend. We worked together. I switched clothes and cut him up some to save myself. Now it’s your turn.” He fired the Lugar through the crowded room hitting Kristof between the eyes before he turned toward the door and stalked out.
“So what happens now?” barked John.
Jerry opened his mouth to speak just as Claude burst through the door and trained his gun on Sabine. “Anybody move and I’ll kill her,” he growled.
“The show’s over, Claude. You can put your toy away and go home.”
Jerry moved to help Claude back through the door when the angry spy pulled back the hammer. The crowded room full of people turned to stone.
“It’s okay, Claude. We won and you lost. It’s just another game.” Jerry’s tone was quiet and soothing.
Claude wasn’t buying. “This bitch needs to be taught a lesson and I’m just the one to do it!” A touch on the trigger was all it would take. The silence of death stalked the cluttered room.
The computer chirped. Claude jumped! “What’s that?” he yelled, as his eyes twisted frantically around the room.
Taking a chance, John spoke in a weary voice to the rattled gunman. “Put the gun down. I’m sure there’s a bottle of booze around here somewhere. We could all stand a drink.”
The air was tense and the computer chirped.
“Let me have the bitch. I’ll take her and go.”
No one moved.
Jerry had gradually moved toward the door when Peter left. In the confusion of the chirping computer he took a flying side pass at the enemy agent’s legs. Claude went down, the gun went off and John was on him in seconds. He wrestled Claude’s arms in a hammer hold, taking pleasure in the pain he was inflicting on this cruel man. Smoke filled the air and the ceiling sported a large jagged hole in one corner.
Sabine moved toward the chirping computer and let a little smile tease her lips. “I guess we bought ourselves a liter of uranium,” she quipped.
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