Splinter

63

Just as Marc got down there, his brother’s head slammed into a garden lamp post. He must somehow have managed to escape from the car and wrench the assailant’s gun from his grasp. It was lying half a metre away beside an ornamental shrub, and its owner was preparing to kick Benny in the kidneys as hard as he could.

Marc had no idea if it was the motorcyclist or another of Valka’s henchmen. He wasn’t wearing a balaclava and, from the back, he looked too bulky for a motocross enthusiast.

Benny had failed to get back on his feet and was trying to crawl out of the danger zone on all fours. To no avail. His assailant kicked him in the crotch from behind and he jack-knifed. Then the man bent over him.

Meanwhile, Marc had tiptoed around the car, which was now minus its windscreen. He was only two metres from the pump-action shotgun with which the thug must have shattered the perspex. He was about to make a dive for it when the beefy figure swung round.

‘Think I’m stupid?’ the man said with a laugh.

Marc raised his hands. Now that he had a full-face view of his brother’s would-be killer, he recognized him at once.

‘Hello, Valka.’

He was even fatter than he remembered.

‘Well, if it isn’t our worthy social worker! This is just like old times.’

With a supercilious grin, Valka checked the magazine of the pistol he was holding. Unlike the pump-action lying beside the bush, which needed reloading after the last shot, Benny’s automatic had plenty of rounds in it.

‘A shame you ran out on the band because of that slag of yours.’

‘Since when do you do your own dirty work?’ said Marc. Although his breath was steaming, he didn’t feel the cold wind blowing across from the lake. Fear was warming him from within.

‘Ever since your brother tried to fuck a fucker,’ Valka retorted, aiming a kick at Benny’s unprotected face every time he said the F-word. Strangely enough, Benny was shielding his stomach with his arms but not his head. Blood was oozing from his mouth and nose.

‘Ah, so you’re an Eddie Murphy fan,’ Marc said quickly, before another kick could land.

Valka stopped short. ‘What?’

‘That was a quote from a film: “Never try to fuck a fucker” – something like that. It comes from Trading Places, but never mind. You should be in the movies yourself, Eddy.’

Valka grinned. Then he looked down and addressed himself to the human bundle at his feet. ‘To think this smart aleck put you in the nuthouse!’

‘Get stuffed!’ croaked Benny, spitting out a front tooth.

From far away came the sound of a barge hooting as it made its way downstream to Glienicke Bridge. Marc looked round. The gardens in this area were so big the houses couldn’t be seen from the road. No one would come to their aid and the pump-gun in front of him was just a useless lump of wood and metal. Valka was three car-lengths away; he would empty an entire magazine into Marc’s chest before he’d covered half that distance.

Marc knew this as well as Valka, who didn’t even trouble to aim the pistol at him. He knelt down with the metal toe of one cowboy boot only millimetres from Benny’s right eye. Then he grabbed him by the hair and lifted his head off the gravel until his own mouth was close to Benny’s blood-stained lips.

Valka jammed the muzzle of the automatic under Benny’s chin. ‘Okay, Benjamin, ready to die?’ he asked quietly, sounding like the psychopath he was.

To Marc’s horror, his brother just nodded – wearily, like someone resigned to his fate. Then he said something to Valka in a whisper so soft that it was carried away by wind whistling in the trees. Saliva flecked with blood trickled down Benny’s chin. For some strange reason, his eyes conveyed something akin to profound gratitude before he shut them.

‘All right, you maniac,’ said Valka, ‘go to hell!’

And then, just after Marc had decided to court certain death rather than stand there idly, Valka did something altogether illogical.

He gave Benny’s cheek an affectionate pat. Then he straightened up, flung the pistol away as far as he could and, without a backward glance, strode off down the drive to the gate.