"The big doors are probably locked, but there's a side entrance that's always open." She paused. "Do what you want. But I guarantee you it's quicker than going around."
"All right"—he nodded, a quick bob of his beefy neck— "you lead the way."
What she really was thinking about was the rocks and trees covering that back route. This German blimp escorting her would be no match if she simply took matters into her own hands and made a dash.
Why not? It was a desperate move, but this was a desperate moment.
"Wait . . ." She bent over, as though to tie a shoelace, and when she came up, she was swinging. Schindler was tired, and perhaps because of that he was caught completely off guard, staggering backward. It was the moment of disorientation she needed. She grabbed at the Uzi, hoping to wrench it from his grasp. He may have been surprised, and overweight, but he had lost none of his dogged Stasi tenacity. His one-handed grip tightened on the weapon as his other hand flew up to defend his face.
Now she had one hand on the breech of the automatic, and with the other she reached out and seized the muzzle. It was the leverage she needed to swing the butt of the metal stock up against his jaw. The blow caught him with his mouth open, smashing his lower lip against his teeth and slicing his tongue.
He emitted a moan and yanked the Uzi away with both hands.
But now Calypso Andros was already stumbling through the brush, up the hill and into the fog.
Schindler felt his bleeding lip as he recovered his balance, and he fleetingly considered just taking her out with a quick burst, nice and simple. Though Number One had insisted she be returned alive, he told himself he was mad enough he didn't care. He wanted to kill the bitch.
But the second he took to make that calculation proved to be crucial. She had gotten into the heavy brush that ringed the hill farther up.