Apocalypsis 1.03 Thoth Read Online Free Page A

hole.«
    Again, they pulled the hateful wet bag over his head and led him out of the room. After the repeated »treatments,« Peter was shaky on his feet. The muscles in his arms and legs were hurting from the spasms he had suffered during the waterboarding. One of the Americans held him on his left side, the other one on his right, and behind him he heard the clicking sounds of high heels. Peter was surprised that they hadn’t tied up his hands. This meant they wouldn’t be going far. Not a good prospect.
    The path led over a few narrow stairs and then through some kind of outdoor corridor. Peter could hear neither voices nor traffic noise and he assumed that they had been holding him somewhere in the outskirts of the city. A cool breeze. A door was opened in front of him. The clicking of the high heels moved past him, and he heard the creaking of a car door nearby. A sliding door.
    A van.
    This was his only chance.
    As his muscles tensed, his conscious mind stopped and he went on autopilot. His reflexes took over, motor skills that his body had learned years ago. Despite the fact that he had not used them since then, his body remembered each and every one of them.
    In one fluid movement, Peter bobbed his head to the left and broke the nose of the man next to him. Then he swung around and rammed his head into the face of the man on the other side, breaking his nose, too.
    The two men by his side gave loud groans and for a brief moment, Peter’s hands were free. But the men were CIA and well-trained. Despite their pain, they reacted immediately and grabbed him again. Peter, still blinded by the bag over his head, clutched the arm of the man to his right and then he spun around again, without letting go of the arm. He heard the dry snapping sound of the breaking bone and a muffled scream. At the same time he kicked the other man between the legs.
    »Don’t move!«
    Where is she?
    Peter expected her to be armed but – like everything else – this was not a conscious thought. He tore the bag from his head and crouched down, just as he was hit by a punch in the stomach that took his breath away.
    You’re too slow!
    Peter warded off the second blow and the third, and by now he had recovered his breath and delivered a sharp blow to the neck of the man in front of him. The agent slammed against the van and collapsed, gasping. From the corner of his eye, Peter saw that the second American was struggling to his feet again. Then he suddenly felt cold steel at the back of his head.
    »I said, don’t move!«
    Still no conscious thought in his mind. Yet Peter knew that she would not shoot. He was still of too much value to them for her simply to gun him down.
    So he spun around again and struck her in the face with his elbow. Simple rule: whether you’re an old man, a woman, a cripple or a child – if you hold a gun to my head, you are my enemy.
    The bullet hit the side of the car, right next to him. The sound of the blast reverberated in his ear and momentarily deafened him. But this was just one more thing that Peter barely noticed. He grabbed the woman and wrenched the gun out of her hand, and then he hit her again and pushed her away from him. By now, the second American was back on his feet and getting ready to attack him again. Peter grabbed the gun from the ground and aimed at him. The American froze.
    »You don’t have a hope.«
    »The key.«
    Slowly but surely, reality crept back into his consciousness and he began to notice details of his surroundings. An industrial area. A huge parking lot for trailers. Warehouses. An old brick building. A fence, bushes and a street. All badly lit. Peter saw that Alessia Bertoni and the man with the broken arm were struggling back to their feet, moaning. It was time to hit the road.
    »The key! … THE KEY!«
    »In my purse.«
    »You get it. And you two – over there!«
    None of the three reacted.
    Peter aimed at the man who was standing in front of him and shot him in the leg.