Eden's Gate Read Online Free

were lax. So many were going over to the west. Nobody cared any longer, but nobody knew when another crackdown would come.”
    â€œIs that what this is, a case of mistaken identity?” Speyer asked. Blood ran down his cheek but he made no move to try to stanch the flow. “You think that I was a German border guard?”
    â€œI never said that,” the old man said calmly.
    Speyer pursed his lips, realizing his stupid mistake. “I thought I heard—”
    â€œKapitän Helmut Speyer. The East German Secret Police, Stasi. Just happening by that night.” The old man shook his head, the memory obviously painful. “You shot and killed my son and wife while I was atop the wall trying to help them over. Then you took my fourteen-year-old Lisa and offered to trade her life for mine.”
    â€œYou took yours, obviously, though I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    â€œI took mine because the West German police were right there and pulled me the rest of the way over. I had no choice. And by the time I could get to a place where I could see, you and she were gone.”
    Speyer shook his head. “I was never there—”
    â€œI saw the records,” the old man shouted. “You raped her first, and then you gave her to the guards who raped her until she was dead.”
    â€œNo,” Speyer said.
    â€œOh, yes,” the old man said. His finger tightened on the trigger.
    Bill Lane fired two shots, the first catching the old man in the left armpit, spinning him around, and the second catching him in the heart. His hand went to the fatal wound which erupted in a spray of blood as he fell to the floor, dead.
    Â 
    The sudden silence in the barroom was deafening. The bartender’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit, man, you shot him.”

    â€œI didn’t like the odds,” Lane said. “Besides, I know the crazy old bastard. He tried to come after me in Washington a couple of months ago.” He slipped off the bar stool, and cocked an ear to listen. So far there were no sirens. “So what’s the story, folks? Self-defense?”
    â€œWho are you?” Speyer demanded.
    â€œLet’s just say that I’m a friend,” Lane said. “And as of this moment I’m a murderer, unless you can help.”
    Speyer helped his wife down. “Get the car and bring it around back, Liebchen . And hurry, would you please?”
    Gloria gave Lane a worried look, then gathered her purse and left.
    â€œWhat happened here, Willy?” Speyer asked the bartender, but keeping an eye on Lane. “Was it an accident?”
    â€œWhatever you say, Mr. Sloan.”
    â€œOkay, we have about two minutes, maybe less,” Speyer said. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”
    â€œLike I said—” Lane had begun when the muzzle of Sergeant Baumann’s pistol touched his temple.
    â€œMr. Sloan asked you a question.”
    â€œDo you trust the bartender?” Lane asked casually.
    â€œThat doesn’t matter. You just have to trust that I’m not going to pull the trigger if you piss me off,” Baumann said.
    â€œJohn Clark. Until a few years ago I worked for South African Intelligence. I’m a freelance now.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” Baumann asked.
    â€œLooking for a job.”
    â€œWorking for me?” Speyer said, surprised.
    â€œI’m good at what I do.”
    â€œKilling old men?” Speyer asked.
    â€œShit,” Lane said, flinching. It was enough to throw Baumann’s concentration off. Lane grabbed the sergeant’s pistol, twisted it out of his hand, and stepped aside as he brought his own gun to the man’s face. “Actually I do pretty good disarming stupid people, too.”
    â€œSon of a bitch,” Baumann swore.
    â€œActually my mother was a saint, and I’ll thank you to remember that in the future, or I’ll take you