The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

enough that he kept coming back. It wasn't just baiting him, was it? It could
not have been just an act. Herr Manstein was a discerning philanderer. He had so
much experience, and he only frequented the most skillful whores. Tell me,
Petra, how did you acquire so much skill? Did you practice beforehand with
Günther – or with others? All in the name of revolutionary justice, of course,
or revolutionary Komaradschaft, nicht wahr? You are a worthless slut, Petra.
Even whores have morals, but not you.
'And your beloved revolutionary cause,' the detective sneered. 'Doch! Such a
cause. How does it feel to be rejected by the entire German Volk?' She stirred
in her chair at that, but couldn't quite bring herself . . . 'What's the matter,
Petra, no heroic words now? You always talked about your visions of freedom and
democracy, didn't you? Are you disappointed now that we have real democracy –
and the people detest you and your kind! Tell me, Petra, what is it like to be
rejected? Totally rejected. And you know it's true,' the investigator added.
'You know it's no joke. You watched the people in the street from your windows,
didn't you, you and Günther? One of the demonstrations was right under your
apartment, wasn't it? What did you think while you watched, Petra? What did you
and Günther say to each other? Did you say it was a counter-revolutionary
trick?' The detective shook his head, leaning forward to stare into those empty,
lifeless eyes, enjoying his own work as she had done.
'Tell me, Petra, how do you explain the votes? Those were free elections. You
know that, of course. Everything you stood for and worked for and murdered for –
all a mistake, all for nothing! Well, it wasn't a total loss, was it? At least
you got to make love to Wilhelm Manstein.' The detective leaned back and lit a
small cigar. He blew smoke up at the ceiling. 'And now, Petra? I hope you
enjoyed that little tryst, mein Schatz. You will never leave this prison alive.
Never, Petra. No one will ever feel pity for you, not even when you're confined
to a wheelchair. Oh, no. They'll remember your crimes and tell themselves to
leave you here with all the other vicious beasts. There is no hope for you. You
will die in this building, Petra.'
Petra Hassler-Bock's head jerked at that. Her eyes went wide for an instant as
she thought to say something, but stopped short.
The detective went on conversationally. 'We lost track of Günther, by the way.
We nearly got him in Bulgaria – missed him by thirty hours. The Russians, you
see, have been giving us their files on you and your friends. All those months
you spent at those training camps. Well, in any case, Günther is still on the
run. In Lebanon, we think, probably holed up with your old friends in that
ratpack. They're next,' the detective told her. 'The Americans, the Russians,
the Israelis, they're cooperating now, didn't you hear? It's part of this treaty
business. Isn't that wonderful? I think we'll get Günther there . . . with luck
he'll fight back or do something really foolish, and we can bring you a picture
of his body . . . Pictures, that's right! I almost forgot!
'I have something to show you,' the investigator announced. He inserted a video
cassette into a player and switched on the TV. It took a moment for the picture
to settle down into what was plainly an amateur video taken with a hand-held
camera. It showed twin girls, dressed in matching pink dirndl outfits, sitting
side by side on a typical rug in a typical German apartment – everything was