| After
the Wall
By
Rocket
Episode
9.6
Part Three
The woman took a long rifle out of her bag. She fitted
a cylinder on top of the barrel and set the gun on a small
stand in the upstairs window. Kneeling down, she looked
through the scope, the crosshairs first on the scruffy
American in the café, then on his companion. She
adjusted the focus, seeing Gunther sharp and clear with
the crosshairs centred just above his right ear. She concentrated,
reading his lips through the powerful scope.
* * * *
“Have you heard of something called ‘Project
Atlas’? Gunther lowered his voice, staring intently
at MacGyver.
“No.” MacGyver sat back, not wanting to be
any closer to Gunther than he had to.
“It was a terrible thing. It was begun in 1942,
an investigation into ways in which groups of undesirables
could be neutralised without the inconvenience of…
housing them first.” Gunther watched MacGyver flush
with anger, watched his hands ball into fists, watched
him pack his anger away a piece at a time until he could
control his voice.
“You mean because concentration camps were just
too much trouble?” There was a dangerous gleam in
his eyes and for a long moment Gunther wondered whether
MacGyver intended on killing him.
“Just so.” Gunther decided that MacGyver probably
wasn’t a killer after all, and relaxed a fraction.
“The research carried on after the war ended, but
was eventually shelved some time in the 1960s.”
He shrugged. “I had distanced myself from it and
moved on to other projects by then, but the concepts involved
disturbed me and I kept up to date with progress as far
as I was able.”
* * * *
In the café opposite, the woman blinked and refocussed,
watching Gunther speak. She knew who he was, but hadn’t
known of his involvement in Project Atlas. Interesting…
* * * *
“I have done things I am ashamed of, yes.”
Gunther nodded, reading MacGyver’s expression. “But
the more I found out about Atlas, the more I became convinced
that mass extermination was wrong.” He sighed, turning
his coffee mug in his hands. “I lived amongst the
people I had helped to exterminate, you see.”
“Right…” MacGyver rolled his eyes. “Gunther,
you did some terrible, terrible things and nothing you
say, no deed you can do, can redeem that.” He stood,
his chair scraping across the tiled floor. “I’m
glad you’re sorry for what you’ve done, but
if you’re hoping for forgiveness here, you’re
plum out of luck!” He dug in his pocket and dropped
some money on the table. Gunther shot out a hand and grabbed
his wrist. MacGyver frowned down at Gunther, who stared
back intently.
“Mr. MacGyver, I decided to return to Germany when
I found out that someone is planning to start up Project
Atlas in America. I escaped my past once, and now it has
followed me across the ocean. I did not choose this café
by chance. I am here because my colleague here in Berlin
has told me the original leader of Project Atlas will
also be here shortly, and then I will kill him. I will
not allow his knowledge to be used in America! I will
not be forced to use my own knowledge in that way again!”
Gunther’s fingers tightened on MacGyver’s
wrist, his knuckles white and his grip surprisingly strong.
“I cannot allow this, and if I die in the act of
stopping it, then perhaps it will make up in some small
way for all the evil that I have done. Mr. MacGyver, I
thank you for accompanying me back to Berlin, but now
you must leave.” Gunther released MacGyver’s
arm, sitting up very straight.
* * * *
The woman’s finger tightened on the trigger and
she exhaled. A straightforward shot, one she had made
a hundred times before. Auf wiedersehn, Verrater, auf
wiedersehn…
* * * *
MacGyver stood up straight, frowning down at Gunther.
“Dammit Gunther, what is this?! I can’t just
let you–“ MacGyver gasped and threw himself
to the floor as the café window exploded into a
cloud of shards. A flat crack echoed across the street
as Gunther slumped to the floor beside him. MacGyver looked
sideways at him, seeing the sharp eyes open and lifeless.
A single drop of blood trailed down Gunther’s forehead
to join the spreading pool beneath the old man’s
head.
MacGyver dived behind the counter and hid, his heartbeat
loud in his ears. Around him he could hear the people
from the café screaming and fleeing. Behind him,
a door banged and the footsteps faded. MacGyver glanced
up, working out the angle of the shot from the break in
the window, Gunther’s position on the floor and
the bullet buried in the floorboard near the counter base.
He picked up a spoon and poked it up above the counter
edge, but no second shot followed.
“Only one target...” MacGyver looked at Gunther,
lying so still. “Not me…” A drop of
hot water landed on his head, making him jump. MacGyver
looked up and the coffee machine on the counter dripped
on him again. MacGyver glanced at the front of the café,
then reached up and spun every knob on the coffee machine.
Steam hissed out of the pipes, filling the café
with a warm fog. “Can’t be too careful…”
MacGyver waited for the steam to thicken, then ran out
from behind the counter and dived through the back door.
A pistol shot splintered the doorframe as he crashed onto
a pile of rubbish bags. Scrambling up, he ducked through
the door and into the alley behind the café.
Behind him, the café door banged open and the man
in the blue overcoat raced through the café and
emerged into the alley, a pistol in his hand. He fired
a shot and MacGyver ducked left into another alley, skidding
around the corner to hide behind a dumpster. He crouched
down and pulled a cardboard box into the gap between the
dumpster and the wall. He heard footsteps turn into the
alley and saw a flash of blue coat through a tear in the
cardboard. The footsteps came closer and MacGyver tensed,
laying his hands flat against the side of the dumpster.
The man took another step, gun raised, and MacGyver sprang
forwards, pushing the dumpster hard. Nearly empty, the
dumpster rocketed across the alley and hit the man with
a resounding clang! The man swore and tried to push the
dumpster back, but the momentum carried him into the opposite
wall. The back of his head hit the bricks, his eyes rolled
up and he slumped to the ground. The gun tumbled out of
his hand and landed in a puddle.
MacGyver heaved a sigh of relief and scooped up the gun.
Emptying out the bullets, he took the gun apart and threw
the pieces into three different dumpsters. He frowned
down at the unconscious man. Had he been the one who shot
Gunther? It seemed unlikely with the small pistol. If
there was a second shooter, they’d probably got
a good look at him talking with Gunther…
He reached down and pulled off the unconscious man’s
coat, bundling it on over his jacket. He fished in his
jacket pockets and pulled out a hair tie and a pair of
glasses. He put them on and straightened up, pulling the
overcoat straight. He grinned at his changed reflection
in a dusty window.
“Berlin, meet Dexter Fillmore!”
Hunching over to make himself seem shorter, MacGyver joined
the crowd getting off a bus. His priority now was to escape
from Berlin alive and get back to the States to tell Pete
what had happened. But to do that, he had to get the bus
and the train back to the airport without getting shot
on the way. He burrowed deeper into the overcoat and tried
to will himself invisible.
* * * *
Upstairs in the café opposite, the sniper packed
her rifle away. Her orders were to kill the traitor but
hadn’t covered his companion. Mission accomplished,
she zipped up the bag, walked down the stairs and disappeared
into the crowd outside.
* * * *
In the alley behind, the man stirred and groaned. He sat
up, holding his head in his hands, then shaking it to
clear his vision. Swearing, he got to his feet and lurched
back into the café. The cold wind blowing through
the broken glass chilled him, and he swore again. The
verdammt American had even stolen his coat! He crossed
to the door, fanning at the steam still billowing out
of the coffee machine. A breeze blew the steam away and,
just for a moment, he spotted the American hurrying along.
The man smiled. The American’s attempt at disguise
was good, but trying to hide from a man when you are wearing
his coat would never work…
* * * *
MacGyver hurried along the busy street, aware that the
second shooter could be anywhere. With no way of recognising
them, he figured his best chance at survival was to flee
as fast and as far as he could.
He turned off the main street, heading back to the bus
stop, and was almost run down by an ancient and overloaded
motorbike. Spinning out of the way, he stepped back onto
the pavement and locked eyes with overcoat-man staring
at him. The man’s eyes narrowed and he quickened
his pace, reaching a hand into his trouser pocket…
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