Chapter 6

“Do you still have that tube of chloroform?” I whispered to Gelric. Every ex-Nazis was given a sample of chloroform in the case that if they were caught, that any inkling of the secrets they knew could disappear with their loss of life when the chloroform was injected into the blood stream. He only pointed towards a badly fitted floor panel since he was paralyzed to the spot, he couldn’t stand up. I shuffled over to the wooden platform, removed the lid and found what I supposed was his escape bag. Ruffling through the smallest pocket it didn’t take long to find what I’d been hoping for. The bag slid soundless across the ground until it knocked into Gelric’s leg.

A window had been left open near the fire escape, it was meant to be a convenient escape for Gelric but now it was a weakness. One I could exploit to my own advantage if I played my cards right because now I knew with certainty how the assassin would enter the apartment.

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Waiting in between the cover of the curtain film, footsteps light and almost excused as windswept erosion, made their approach. Listening, rusted hinges were raised, a misplaced shadow popped up beside me, and that's when I strike. I punched a syringe into the intruder's face mask. The liquid solution of chloroform was now seeping through the material around their mouth and nose, soon they would be unconscious.

The figure stumbled back caught by surprise, they weren’t aware of what had happened. Advancing again they fell into my trap, a blunder on their side as the window, pulled back closed, now flew into their face. The impact caused an outcry of pain, I must have smashed the assassins nose, trying to feel their face the assassin didn’t see where they were reversing towards. They tumbled and crashed down the first flight of stairs, crashing in a heap against the protective fence. Feeling horrible for the responsibility I held for the assassin's current state I couldn’t bear to watch any longer.

Whistling softly the signal for my neighbor went up, though I could go and say my goodbye’s I’d rather not, hopeful he would do the wise thing and not ever try to return to this city again. When the sound of the front door closing had passed I finally took in an ice cream tub worth of air. Glancing out the window, I checked to see the assassin who remained unconscious, at least I hope that was all that had happened.

Feeling as if a whale had crawled onto my shoulders I trailed back to my bed, heavy. Since now the reality from the previous evening, would have to be the act I maintain to protect myself from suspicion. I would continue to act like the careless drunk girl, who everyone assumed thought of working to become an independent woman was only a hopeless trend.

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“There’s no space in this office for hungover children!” was the last thing I remember hearing before having dozed off for the third time that morning. As pitiful as the site was, they wouldn't fire me over it, I still got more work done after a week than seventy percent of the office, and that included the daisy days like this one. “I need.. Coffee,” I was mumbling but really my stomach was thinking about food, the last full meal… I could barely remember it.

“Caffeine addicted, mind helping me here?” asked Samari slowly, as if I might pass out if she spoke too fast. Rolling up my head I glanced in her direction, it worked as well as a thumbs up. “So I’m filling in this form for a lease, and here it asks me to cross a box for the type of business. I crossed the box for sole trade, but here it asks again what type of business it is?” she asked, this had nothing to do with work, but Samari works almost as fast as I do.

She started working here about two months ago, we’re both clerks and neither of us are bound to move up in the company. Both young, and quite neive, both of us dreamt of the future. One of independence and acceptance, and for the views of the past, to stay in the past.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

If I was an idealist, believe me, Samari was the radio toned up, but her fatal flaw was believing that the moment she married, that she would be selfish to not throw away every scrap of her independence. The timer to marry before turning twenty-five had never stopped its brewing of an unforgivable storm of thunder and smoke wherever Samari went.

“That business type is asking the purpose of the business. Is it a non-profit business, or a commercial business?” I answered, wondering if Samari was talking about opening her own business. Returning back to work, a report about an accidental home fire, greeted a ear strum of agony. The owner of the home received second degree burns across his right arm, and third degrees on his legs. It also stated that the injuries were covered by the medical aid, but no insurance was paid out. The house did not have a fire alarm installed, insurance won’t help, this was completely the owner's liability.

Stamp. Read, ignored and forgotten this file would be.

That reminded me of something… Gelric! He gave me a crinkly paper yesterday! It had been packed over into my work folder, but I haven’t read it yet. Grabbing a lilac green case, I unclipped the front and searched for the ‘others’ label. The paper was hidden under scraps, sketches and lists but it was there. On the inside were four names.

Baryn Ashwend

Gelric Ashwend

Ludwig Franklin

Harren Barkig

Could Baryn be Gelric’s dead brother? Was this an assassination target list? There was something familiar about the surnames though, but I couldn’t quite place it. If the assassinations were to occur in this order, was there a chance for me to able to help the other targets as well? Even if I could find these people, how would I even be able to approach such a topic and still manage to avoid their deaths?

“Are you alright after yesterday?” recoiling in surprise, I crumpled the paper under my finger tips before seeing Sakria. There was worry inked across her brow and now surprise stained her ember eyes as she glanced at my hand.

“Tired, but I slept… well. I actually brought you something from home,” I responded, ruffling under my desk.

I dropped the paper and emerged with a brown box. Sakria frowned, looked at me, then shrugged as she tore open the box, her eyes widened as she saw what was contained inside. “Is this an Astro lamp?” shock edged her face. Nodding, we stared at the lamp, it was designed to heat up wax from the base of the water, and melt it to allow the wax to float up, before cooling and sinking again, leaving a magma satisfaction gleaming in vision, meditative or addictive to watch.

“When did you get this?” she asked, excitement edging her tone.

“A few days ago, it was meant to be your birthday present but I believe it to be a better suit for today,” I responded but Sakria had already plugged in the lamp. She was currently engulfed in awe, I was too, but eventually we got up in search of food. Until something caught my eye. Pinned against the bottom of the wall titled ‘What not to look up to’ was the newspaper article with over one hundred names on just the first page. It was the ex-Nazis list, and the surname ‘Ashwend’ was on the list. It was one of the earlier names inked upon the paper, it paused me right in my tracks. Approaching the wall I unpinned the paper and started flipping through it, sure enough I found what I was looking for, ‘Ludwig Franklin’ and ‘Harren Barig.’

The list of targets are all ex-Nazis! My father… what if he hadn’t died during the war, what if he was really assassinated. Maybe even possible, he was still alive, no wonder the ex-Nazis went into hidden, but why now? It's been eighteen years since the end of the war, why were they being hunted now?

“Everything alright?” asked Sakria, who had turned to see what had caused my stop.

Nodding, I said, “My neighbor didn’t leave his apartment this morning, when I asked the lady who he usually walked to work with she shrugged and used his full name within her sentence. Gelric Ashwend. He never told me his surname, and with good reason, I didn’t know he was an ex-Nazis, he might have even known my father.”

Sakria merely laughed, “I didn’t know Ashwend was in the back of the alphabet. It’s alright, I know you were looking at your fathers name again, page eight.”

I stiffened before nodding, face contouring for a man I’ve never met. Jolted from self pity Samaria approached.

“I’m sorry for my part in the rumors that spread about you yesterday,” she said. She didn’t look sorry, frowning I turned to look at Sakria, I asked “What did you say to her?”

Sakria smugly answered directly to Samaria, “I take it you found the gift?”

Samaria grimaced, “It was… an excellent gift.” The rotten potatoes, suddenly I was feeling bad for her.

“I’ll have a better gift the next time, one I’m sure will meet your taste,” Sakria responded, this made Samaria shrink away, even her hills had gone silent.

My lunch tasted like brick wrap and felt like a far off nap. Wait, I’m speaking of my brain, that’s the one far off on a nap one. It was cycling through everything that had happened on repeat as if I was paying it to sing a song for the retake of this particular scene, but there was enough sense in my head to know that the first place I was going to search for answers was Bibliothèque communale de Namur

library.

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