Too Pretty For The Hills Page 13

  ''She’s here! We got her!''

  ''For the love of god! Leave me alone!''

  ''We mean you no harm, Dora,'' the man said, spitting on the ground.

  ''What did I ever do to you?'' she cried from inside the shed.

  ''Step away from the door! I’m kicking it in!''

  ''You bastards! You fucking bastards!''

  ''I’m kicking it in, you hear?''

  The old wood gave in easily, revealing a crammed makeshift bedroom, probably built for a farmhand.

  There was indeed a person inside, only it wasn’t Dora. It was the farmer. He was lying naked on an old mildewed matress, a wet dress wadded up under his head. His voice was squeaky and girlish:

  ''Just leave me alone! Please!''

  When he saw the dumbstruck look on their faces, he couldn’t distort his voice any longer, and he burst out laughing in a shrill guffaw.

  24

  By the time they started looking for the tractor, Dora, now wearing the farmer’s pajamas, had already abandoned it in the bushes a safe distance off.

  As she’d been walking out of the barn some ten minutes earlier, she had never felt happier for her rather boyish figure. The tractor had proven to be quite managable, although it helped that the farmer had started it up before coming to meet her in the little room in the back of the barn to give her his long johns and the baseball cap. Everyone had taken him for a simpleton, a country bumpkin, and so no one took any special notice when they saw what they thought was him leaving, the cap of the hat pushed down to hide the face underneath.

  Following his instructions, Dora was now on foot, hurrying along a dark dirt road through the brushwood. She heard vehicles in the distance but they weren’t growing louder. By the time they’d found the tractor, she would be long gone - or so she hoped.

  She thanked her lucky stars she'd managed to stumble upon one of the few good townspeople, though she knew full well she wasn’t out of the woods yet - literally.

  By now it had stopped raining and stars were finally appearing in the night sky, when she suddenly ran into someone stepping out of the blackness, startling her.

  ''Pssh, don’t shout! You’re Dora I take it?''

  The man standing there in the moonlight looked remarkably like the farmer.

  ''And those are my brother’s long johns. Yep, they even stink of him.''

  He was much better groomed than his brother and judging by his breath, he must have brushed his teeth at some point. There was even a scent of a deodorant on him, along with considerably better attire.

  ''Always the pretty ones,'' he said. ''I’m Theodor, Kasimir’s brother. He called and woke me up, but he didn’t exactly give me a lot to work with. Still, I reckon we haven’t got much time.'' He turned and stepped into the bushes, impatiently gesturing Dora to follow.

  ''What do they want with me?'' she moaned as she caught up with him.

  ''To end up just like all the rest of those women, I’m guessing.''

  ''So they didn’t get burried under an avalanche?''

  ''What avalanche? Never heard of no avalanche up here. That what they told you?''

  ''So what really happened to them?'' Dora said, ignoring his question.

  ''I couldn’t tell you for sure. It’s been happening for about a year now. A bunch of local girls and some tourists, all women. Some turned up dead and the others simply disappeared. These are sinister people you got mixed up with. But we’ll get you out. And afterwards, I hope for your sake you’re smart enough to never come back here again, you hear? Can’t trust anyone out here.''

  They arrived at a shed behind a house. It was open and a long black vehicle was inside. Only when the man pushed it out did Dora realize it was a hearse.

  ''I run the mortuary service. Some of them women came through to me. And I won’t describe the state they were in.''

  He opened the trunk and began rummaging through it.

  ''Hop in, Miss, time’s a-wasting. No, no, not there. In here.''

  She approached and froze. It was a coffin.

  ''You’re kidding, right?''

  ''I’m afraid not,'' he said. ''Once we’re on the road down to Palzau, it’ll be smooth sailing but before we can get there, we need to take the one right through Graufirst, no way around it. And I think it’s fair to say they’ll be keeping their eyes peeled. They won’t let you leave, do you understand?''

  ''But won’t they stop the car and check the coffin?'' Dora asked meekly, her eyes riveted on the shabby wooden box.

  ''Could be. But it’s the only chance you’ve got. Look, Miss, I’m risking my life here doing you a favor. And this old thing may not look like much,'' he added, patting the car, ''but it packs quite a kick if you make it gallop.''

  She was on the horns of a dilema: she either had to trust this complete stranger or return to running blindly through the woods, risking another encounter with God only knew who or what. In the end there was only one thing to do. She climbed into the coffin.

  Theodor said something in an encouraging voice, though Dora couldn’t make out what exactly, and then she heard him secure the lid with some type of cable, the sound of which sent a claustrophobic shock wave up her spine. Then she heard the trunk slam shut and the front door open. The car engine revved up, and she felt the hearse reversing and turning, along with her stomach.

  ''You doing okay back there?''

  The sounds of radio drowned out her answer, which was just as well.

  The hearse picked up speed and then slowed down again. Soon, Dora had lost all sense of time. She felt as if she'd been in that box for a week.

  ''Sweet Marry and Joseph, it looks like the whole town’s up!''

  She wished he hadn’t said that, and she struggled not to think about all those evil people roaming the dark streets, looking for her. The stench of the farmer’s long johns filled the coffin and she started to gag.

  ''So far so good,'' the update came, as Dora felt the hearse make a right turn. ''If we just keep it nice and easy and don't draw attention, I think we’ll be just fine!''

  She thanked him with an inaudible squeak, though it was not clear to her how driving around town late at night in a hearse could fail to raise eyebrows. She was beginning to get motion sickness but she didn’t care. It was worth any ordeal to leave this hellish village behind. She swallowed back the sick.

  ''Okay, I think we’re good,'' Theodor’s voice said at length, palpably relieved.

  ''Really? You mean it?''

  Dora started crying of sheer gratitude and relief.

  ''Yes, a couple hundred feet and we’ll reach the ...'' He went quiet mid sentence. ''Shit,'' he said nervously. ''There's a road block up ahead! Mutherfuckers!''

  ''What do we do now?'' Dora cried.

  ''They’ve barricaded the exit. No way we’re getting through without them searching the car. I think I’ll just turn off here nice and easy.''

  Suddenly Dora felt the car accelerate sharply, and she heard the tires screech as the coffin hit the side of the trunk.

  ''They’ve seen us!'' Theodor exclaimed. ''They’ve seen us!''

  Another sharp turn, and Dora screamed. They drove over a bump in the road and her head was thrown against the inside of the lid. Then gun shots started ringing out.

  ''Fucking hell! They’re shooting at us!''

  Sure enough, she heard bullets piercing the sheet metal and smashing the windows. She pounded the lid with her fists, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Another bump in the road, and the car started changing direction. It suddenly felt like they were driving on a bumpy but soft surface, the terrain slowly ascending. It was grass. They were slowing down and the engine started lugging as if the gear was suddenly too high. It gasped for the last time and then shut off. The hearse rolled a little further and then came to a stop.

  ''Why the hell did you stop?'' Dora cried.

  No response.

  ''Are you still there? Theodor?''

  She tried again in vain to force the li
d open.

  ''Open! Open, you stupid ...'' she hissed, desperately pounding the wood. But her weak, tired arms and the fact that there wasn’t much room to work with left her trapped and waiting helplessly in the dark. She was a sitting duck.

  Suddenly someone popped the front door open.

  ''Yeah, he’s done.''

  ''Check the back. He was running for a reason.''

  She held her breath and clung to the last hope she had left - that they wouldn't check the coffin.

  She heard the trunk pop open and after a few yanks on the wooden lid it came undone and she was blinded by several flashlights.

  ''It’s her!''

  A pair of hands reached in and pulled her out, and she saw Theodor in the front seat, his head tilted to the side, blood splattered over the cracked front windows.

  ''You fuckers! Fucking fuckers, I swear to God you’ll all burn in hell!''

  A little procession of villagers, some with lanterns, others with flashlights, were waiting down by the road. Their faces rapt, they remained still as Dora was carried down the street screaming.

  Then she was forced into the back of a van. She kicked the door furiously, cursing and pleading, but to no avail.

  The drive that followed was pure agony. She knew she was going to be killed, but in what manner and why was still a mystery. Bruised, weeping, a bandage on her hand, her long johns wet, and her life passing before her, she regretted how naive and carefree she'd been. She thought about how she would never see Katja, or any other familiar face back home, again.

  The end was near.

  25

  At last, the van stopped. Dora wiped her tears and felt her way to the door, her fists and teeth squeezed, prepared to make one last break for it.

  She heard the lock click. As the door started opening, she kicked it with all the force she could muster, knocking one of the men backwards into the mud. She jumped out and attempted to flee into the shrubbery, but someone grabbed her and pulled her back.

  ''Whoa now! Settle down, Dora!''

  She froze as she recognized the voice. It was Nicolaus, the purported tutor, his hand still bandaged up to the elbow from their last run in.

  ''You!''

  ''She broke my fucking nose,'' the other guy bellowed, picking himself up and holding his nostrils together.

  ''Let go of me, you psychopath!'' Dora hissed. ''You won't get away with this! People know I’m here! They know and they’re coming!''

  ''Help me, Fritz, will you? She’s a fiesty one.''

  ''Don’t I know it.''

  They dragged her to a cabin. It was cool inside; the windows had been boarded up, and an icy-cold blue neon light was flickering up on the wooden ceiling. Two more men were there waiting for her.

  They tied her to a chair with plastic strips. She watched helplessly as she was placed in front of a small, cube-like table with an odd-looking plant on it, next to which was a large envelope.

  One of the men walked to the other side of the table, leaned forward on it and stared down at Dora through thick glasses. He had a bronze buzz-cut with thick and uneven stubble growing around his mouth, and he was chewing gum.

  ''So here we are,'' he said, the blue neon light reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. ''That man that drove you back there in his coffin. What was that all about? Where was he taking you?''

  Dora just stared at him.

  ''Talk to me, Dora.''

  ''You killed him!'' she snapped angrily. ''He tried to help me and you killed him!''

  The man looked over at his compatriots and someone muttered something that sounded like ‘shit’.

  ''How did you escape the Dietrichs’ house earlier tonight?''

  No answer.

  ''You said something about someone coming to rescue you. Who exactly were you referring to?''

  ''My friends! And they’re bringing the police with them!''

  He was looking at her with a searching gaze, the glasses making his eyes look bigger than they actually were.

  ''I very much doubt any police will be appearing any time soon. But friends of yours we will have to contain in due course.'' He sat down on the side of the table, attacking the chewing gum with a certain unsettling fervor.

  ''Why are you doing this?'' Dora said. ''What could you possibly gain from doing this?''

  ''Believe it or not,'' he replied, ''I’m actually on your side. We’re on your side. Let me introduce myself. My name is Friderik Mallek, Deputy Director of the Spezialpolizei Berlin.''

  His hand twitched as if he intended to go for a handshake before remembering Dora's hands were tied.

  ''Spezialpolizei Berlin,'' Dora repeated blankly.

  ''That’s right. My men and I have been running a covert sting operation here in Graufirst since February.''

  ''Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?'' she snapped.

  ''Far from it. But I wouldn’t have much of a reason to make this up, would I? We've got you, after all. If we wanted to harm you, don't you think we would've done it by now?''

  ''So what, then?'' she growled. ''Are you going to drug me again instead and send me back to the Dietrichs?''

  ''No, that's not our intention,'' the man replied. ''It would be rather difficult for you to return there. Those two are dead, as are their children. Actually, if you want to get technical, they weren’t really theirs, but that’s neither here nor there.''

  He reached for the envelope and pulled out a number of oversized matte photos. As he lay the first four out on the table, Dora felt like she was going to be sick again.

  The photographs were of four different women, each photographed post-mortem. All four were naked, lying in dirt or on grass, their faces bruised and swollen. Bizarrely, however, their bodies otherwise appeared unharmed.

  ''Kidnapped, raped, beaten. In that order. All died from brain trauma or internal hemorrhaging and were dumped in the woods.''

  Dora swallowed audibly as more photos were spread in front of her.

  ''We were informed by the Kleineohren police, who have jurisdiction here, that apparently there is a serial killer on the loose in Graufirst and the local sheriff’s department is helpless. Quick strategic decisions were made and the first segment of our undercover team arrived, yet the killings not only continued but actually increased in frequency after we showed up. Six more girls, two in April and four more in May.''

  One of the photos was too much for Dora to look at for more than a second.

  ''Some animal,'' Detective Mallek explained, noticing her reaction. ''We think it was a bear. Plus that body was discovered late.''

  Just then, she realised vaguely that she might have looked something like that herself right about then.

  ''The victim profile is clear enough. Women, all of them in their twenties, thirties. Very pretty - at least until he gets through with them. We don’t get shit from forensics. Takes them forever to analize anything we find anyway, which isn’t a lot to start off with. In June, we upped the number of our guys to thirty-three. It’s one of the biggest and deepest sting operations ever conducted in Europe, and still no luck.''

  ''I don’t believe you,'' Dora said.

  ''Fourteen women so far. And this is the last one.'' Detective Mallek placed another picture in front of her.

  ''This ... You did this! You and the rest of these goddamned people!''

  ''Dora, use your head,'' he said, an octave above his usual monotone. ''Why would we be doing this and then brag about it to you?''

  She tried to jump up, but only managed to make the chair she was strapped to tip sideways and crash to the floor.

  ''Fucking Christ,'' Detective Mallek said, now fully murdering his chewing gum. He took off his glasses and rubbed his visibly dry, tired eyes, while someone picked Dora back up.

  ''It’s a sting operation, and you’re a part of it. Ever since these women started to disappear, people have either moved away or boarded up their houses and kept their daughters under lock and key. You know all those boarded up houses
you see all over Graufirst? They belong to the residents that decided to stay. You were told those people were Gypsies as a safety measure to prevent you from talking to them or wanting to hear them out, and to explain their behavior and the appearance of their property. They take to the streets at night, hoping that chanting will drive whoever’s been doing this away. Plus the graffiti, drawn for the same purpose. Like I’d need to put down my gun and pick up a dreamcatcher instead, whisper to the spirits of my ancestors for aid.''

  Someone in the back of the cabin let out a chuckle.

  ''They don’t mix well with us, though, let me tell you. Most of the people you saw outside their homes are undercover police officers, some are bureau agents, and there’s even a small number of what you might call extras. Those ‘Gypsies’ persistently tried to warn you ever since you came here, hoping to make you flee before you ended up dead yourself. The so-called Dietrichs were our agents too, stepping in and assuming the identities of the old residents that left. In fact, the majority of those chosen for this operation were selected for their at least vague resemblance to the original homeowners. The idea was not to cause any commotion and spook the killer. Though I suspect we’re past that point now and it doesn’t even matter any more, not after what happened today anyway.''

  He spat his gum into a tissue and put a fresh piece in his mouth. The packet said ‘Nicotine gum’.

  ''Because most local women were either under voluntary house arrest or gone, we had to outsource for them in the end, so to speak, under the pretense of our agents looking for help with babysitting or similar chores. A bit dodgy, I admit, but whoever this killer is, he has a nose for sniffing out female undercover agents. You see, Miss Dora, you are actually the second girl we’ve used as bait. We lost the first one in a fluke when we let our guard down and she bolted the same way you did. Unfortunately he was there and snatched her up like an eagle snatching a baby lamb.''

  One of the men walked over to a coffee machine that was sitting on an old chest of drawers. ''Would you like some coffee?'' he asked. Dora just stared at him.