"I'm looking for Four, sweetheart," Remo pressed. "Where is it?" He eased the pressure on Groth's bull neck.
"Argentina," the German gasped. Sweat had broken out on his tanned forehead. The blinding pain in his shattered wrist was almost more than he could bear.
"Where?" Remo pushed.
Whatever Dieter Groth might have said was lost forever.
At the precise moment his thick lips were parting, the door to the office burst open. As Remo and Groth turned, a young woman leaped into the small room, brandishing a handgun.
Dieter Groth looked for a moment as if he had seen his salvation. The relief was short-lived. Groth's eyes grew wide as the gun leveled on him. A crackling explosion filled the small room. A single bullet struck Dieter Groth's forehead with a satisfying thwack.
The German's dark eyes blinked once in bewilderment and then rolled back in his head, closing forever. The soft hiss of startled air from his slack mouth petered to silence.
"Dammit!" Remo snapped, dropping the dead Nazi onto the desk. Groth hit with a fat thud. The German immediately began oozing blood onto the Hotel Cabeza de Ternera's morning mail.
"Do not move!" the woman threatened. She had twisted on the ball of one foot. Her smoking gun was now aimed at Remo.
"Not very bloody likely," Remo growled. Her eyes couldn't even begin to process his movements. Remo flew across the room, snatching the gun from her hand. He flung it to the office floor.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
She was trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Her beautiful face was shocked, but she quickly pulled herself together.
"I might ask you the same thing," she sniffed haughtily. Slender fingers pushed her blond bangs away from her eyes.
"Lady, you're this close to getting tossed out that window." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
"We are on the ground floor," she said defiantly.
"Believe me, I can make it feel like the twentieth."
Her lips tightened as she studied Remo's cruel face. She finally seemed to decide that he wasn't making an idle threat. The woman put her hands on her hips contemptuously.
"I am Heidi Stolpe," she declared imperiously.
"German?" Remo asked, surprised.
"I am of German ancestry, yes," she replied. The admission seemed distasteful to her.
"That accent isn't German."
"It is Spanish," she said. "I have spent much time here in South America."
"I bet," Remo said, annoyed. "Okay, spill it. Why'd you aerate Countess von Zeppelin over there?"
Heidi sneered as she looked over at the body of Dieter Groth. "I make no apologies for my actions," she said, eyes hooded. "He was a Nazi. His kind deserve to die."
Remo closed his eyes. "Oh, great," he muttered. "A Nazi-hunter."
Heidi puffed out her chest. "I am proud of that fact," she stated firmly.
"Bully for you," Remo said. "And in principle, you're not going to get much of an argument from me. But couldn't you have waited another two minutes before you plugged him?"
"He avoided punishment for his crimes for more than fifty years," Heidi said boldly.
She obviously had decided that Remo was no longer a threat. At least not to her. Proud chin raised high, she marched over to the corner of the room to retrieve her gun. Stooping, she tossed the weapon into the handbag that was draped around her neck.
"Another minute would have done it," Remo said to himself with a morose sigh. He dropped back against the wall, staring bitterly at the body of Dieter Groth.
"What is it you wanted from him?" Heidi asked, coming back over to the door. She seemed barely interested. Her azure eyes didn't even look upon the man she had just shot in cold blood.
"Nothing," Remo said, shaking his head. Even as he was saying it, a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Hey, you said you spent a lot of time down here," he said, looking up.
"Most of my life," she admitted.
"Ever hear of a place called Four? It's supposed to be a village or town or something."
Heidi considered for a moment. "The Spanish word is quatro," she advised him.
"No," Remo explained. "This isn't Spanish. I guess it wouldn't even be in German. It's just the Roman numeral IV."
"And this is the name of a village?" she asked dubiously.
"According to him, it's in Argentina." Remo nodded to Groth's body.
She shook her head. "I do not know of this place."
"From what I've heard, it's brimming over with semiretired fascists," Remo said slyly. "A Nazihunter could have a field day there."
Heidi frowned. "This is true?"
"Absolutely."
He could see he had piqued her interest.
"And you are certain Nazi war criminals live there?" Heidi asked.
"It'd be like shooting fish in a barrel."
Heidi seemed to reach some inner decision. "I have contacts in the area. I will ask around for you and return here in an hour. You have a room at the hotel?"
"I did," Remo said. "It might not be a great idea to stick around here after your Ozark Annie act." He indicated Groth's body.
"Perhaps not," she agreed. "Do you know the Old City?"
"I'm new in town," Remo said.