4
Ernst Drexler paced his apartment’s front room. He could not believe what he’d just heard.
“How does this happen? How does this happen?”
A few minutes ago the ringing of his phone had ripped him from sleep. The doorman apologized for waking him, but the visitor in the foyer insisted that this was an emergency. Szeto had entered a few minutes later. As soon as Ernst had seen his expression he’d known the news would be bad, but not this bad.
The man stood stiff and straight a few feet inside the door while Ernst ranged the room.
“She is some kind of ninja.”
Ernst stopped and stared at him. “You’re joking, right? Tell me you are joking.”
“That is only explanation. These were three skilled men. They firebombed her house as directed. A perfect job. The house and everything in it is now ash. But all three are dead. Shot dead just like Max and Josef. Max’s gun was missing. She must have taken it and used it against them. Max would not give up gun easily. She is ninja.”
Had the Order bitten off more than it could chew? Five men killed while trying—unsuccessfully—to corral this one woman. What was she?
“She may be a cold-blooded killer, but she is not a ninja.”
“She kills, then she vanish. If she kills our men, that means she was not in house when it burns. That means she is still out there.”
“Then find her.”
“We do not know where she is.”
“But you know who she is.”
“Just barely.”
“But now you know where she lived. Learn more about her. Find out who she knows. See if she has family. Do I have to do everything myself?”
He had no time for this. The Fhinntmanchca trumped everything else. And what happened later today was crucial to its creation. He’d backed Thompson into a course of action that would leave Darryl with no place to turn, with no option other than the way out Ernst would offer.