Dead at First Sight

6 Monday 24 September

The goddam camper van finally moved off. The Audi had pulled over just past Lena Welch’s front door. Had he missed anything? Andreas Vogel, sweating profusely and feeling nauseous, opened the Passat’s door and stumbled out. A passing taxi missed him by inches.

Trying to pull himself together, he straightened up, unsteadily, supporting himself against the side of the car. Just in time to see a dark shape high above him, falling.

Plummeting from the balcony of the sixth-floor apartment. Her apartment.

There was a dull thud like a fallen sack of potatoes. Momentarily detached, as if observing a scene in a movie, he saw the motionless body of a woman impaled on railings directly beneath Lena Welch’s balcony. Before he could even gather the energy to run over to her, he saw the driver’s door of the Audi open, a wiry black man jump out holding what looked like a large blade, glinting in the street lighting, run over to her, grab her face, slice with his blade and sprint back to the car, clutching something in his hand. As he reached the vehicle, the front door of the apartment building opened and another man, much more powerfully built and wearing red shoes, raced out and across to the car with something bulky under his jacket.

Within seconds the Audi was pulling away.

Vogel hesitated. Then he got back into the Passat and drove after them. They drove straight through a red light and he was forced to jam on his brakes as a stream of traffic passed across in front of him. It was a full two minutes before the lights changed and he could accelerate. He drove recklessly fast for some distance, but there was no sign of the Audi. For ten minutes he drove around, searching up and down side streets, feeling no better.

He gave up and headed back to his apartment, cursing. And wondering just what the accomplice with the large blade had done.

He’d find out soon enough, he figured. Shit.

He’d failed. He swore loudly, shouting at the windscreen. He didn’t do failure.