Chapter 8

Written by: Griffin

Sabine sprang out of the launch and onto the pier, her long hair blowing in the breeze. She extended a hand, and John made a pretty good attempt at a leap.


“Good work with the clothes, Sab.” She caught an approving look. There were new black sneakers for aching feet, though he had to disguise a limp. The smart navy-blue jacket hung well over a pure cotton business shirt.


Treptow Park was trying to be gay in the bright afternoon sun, but could only manage a forlorn look. The famous amusement park was too derelict, and the Russian monument too sterile. She saw the silhouette of the defunct ferris wheel a good way ahead. They walked quickly past a tour group from Japan, and then past a family on a blanket on the lawn, a well-dressed couple with a four-year-old.  She thought, “We are trying to save people like that from Kristof.”  Then said to herself, “Keep focused, girl, this is no time for sentimentality.”


She was feeling resentful that they had been persuaded to come to this crazy place. Kristof had three million reasons why they should not  reach their objective today. Anyone could be their enemy.


At that moment, John muttered, “Look, we are sticking out like a sore thumb. Time to split up.” He gestured with this head over to a white gravel path with sycamore trees, fifteen metres to the left.


Sabine was now traveling with her hand on the gun nestling in its shoulder-holster. They were headed like a platoon towards the Insel der Jugend, where they would meet their contact with secure communications with the auctioneer. The scene felt unreal, after the closeness of the Marienkirche chamber. She touched her face. A drop of the acid had fallen on the back of her left hand. There would be a scar there.


She saw John stumble and fall. Her heart pounded. “They’ve got him,” she thought. The gun was out. But he was just stiff and ungainly from the sessions in the concrete room.


“Fräulein Hessing.” The man beside her had a charming smile and a steely grip on her gun arm. Sabine did not recognise the dustman with the cart from earlier in the day.


“I am sorry for this, but ….” He had a strong jaw, and dimples. A lock of hair fell over his tanned brow.  She knew there was no way out.


At that moment, a bullet shattered the man’s skull. Although she was a seasoned operator, Sabine was shocked, seeing a face explode six inches from her eyes. He crumpled to the ground. She bent over the body, her mouth open, gasping. There was no doubt about it, he was dead.


John was a good shot, even from flat on the ground. People were looking. She heard a siren. There was blood on her face and down her front.


“Go, go,” shouted John, half erect already. He was reloading. “Our friend Claude is back there.”


Greg Rochlin (AUS)


Wow! Things keep going to hell in a handbasket for these two, but at least their still together. Two more chapters to find out if they make it out alive. Great work, Greg. Thanks for stepping in.
Love it. What I am beginning to get interested in is the different styles that each writer brings to a serial. Nice touch with describing the actual surroundings and places. Good story-line Greg and congrats to Annette's first posted chapter as our new Serial Manager. What a team.
Indeed. Action packed and great to get the reference to the opening story. Well done Annette and thanks Greg. You are a terrific story teller. I'd love to see a starter from you. I'm truly worried about what I can do to follow your chapter as we are having to draw it to a!.