Nemesis: Innocence Sold Read Online Free PDF Page A

sweating and cursing, were carrying cartons into the corridor.
    “Bring the stuff to the back right now. I don’t want my guest stumbling over it.” With a curse, the man obeyed, pushing the steel door open with his foot. Dirk froze when he recognized the man’s profile. Lars Hoffman, one of Stephan’s best men in the LKA drug unit and currently also working undercover. Unexpectedly, another guy appeared.
    “Sven? I hope you can hear me. This thing is spinning out of control. Something else is going on here. Two men, armed with pistols. One of them we know well. Lars Hoffman. And Oleg Rachow is around here, too. If he sees me, that’s it. Make sure you don’t blow Lars’s cover when you move in.” This warning was directed at the MEK officers; Sven would know what he had to do without receiving admonishing advice.
    Dirk didn’t let Oleg Rachow out of his sight. The Russian had sworn to take revenge on him after his testimony had sent Rachow’s younger brother to prison for years. Pasha Rachow had made a name for himself in the area of protection rackets before Sven and Dirk had taken him out of circulation.
    “A guest? Have you lost your mind? If he finds anything out, we’re finished, man,” Rachow said.
    “Have a little faith. The guy’s completely finished, but he has a nice pad in Rissen. I’m not letting that slip away. Hurry up and finish, and then get out of here.”
    The massive Rachow effortlessly pushed Becker aside. “I’m going to take a look at this guy.” The Russian approached the door with large strides. Dirk retreated to the desk. His masquerade wouldn’t fool Rachow for a second. “Shit. Sven? We’ve got trouble.”
    Dirk looked tensely at the door until it was violently shoved open. Rachow froze. “Damn, that’s—” With a leap Dirk was next to him and sent Rachow to the floor with a hip toss. With a single movement he had pulled Rachow’s Makarov from its shoulder holster, but he had no time to release the safety. The muzzle of a gun was pressed firmly against the back of his head.
    “Don’t move. Drop the gun, and get up very slowly.”
    While Rachow’s previously unseen companion had reacted with lightning speed, Becker and Lars still seemed frozen. Dirk obeyed and tried to inconspicuously signal Lars that he should not attempt anything.
    Rachow had already gotten back on his feet and was looking at Dirk with hatred. “What an unexpected pleasure.” He swept his arm back and struck Dirk so hard in the face that he would have been knocked to the floor if he hadn’t managed to use the desk to catch his fall. Dirk slowly wiped the blood from his split lip and signaled to Lars with an almost unnoticeable shake of his head that he should continue to hold back. At least the gun was no longer against his head, but now it was prodding painfully into his back.
    “What’s going on here?” Becker asked in a shaky voice. No one bothered to answer.
    Dirk assessed his chances. Two armed men, Becker distraught and unarmed, and then Lars, who would help him inconspicuously if he were in dire need. The situation wasn’t hopeless.
    “A pretty one-sided pleasure,” Dirk said.
    Rachow pulled his arm back again and swung. This time Dirk blocked the blow with his forearm and followed up with a kick to Rachow’s groin. Surprised by his defense, the man behind him didn’t fire.
    Dirk jumped up and kicked at the man behind him, missing because the man evaded the kick with great agility while Rachow continued to writhe on the floor in pain. The man was really fast; his gun was once again pointed at Dirk. Dirk dived to the side and kicked upward while falling. This time he was successful: the kick hit the man in the stomach.
    Gasping for air, the man doubled over. Before he could recover, Lars jostled him as if by accident. “Don’t move,” he ordered Dirk.
    The man was still trying to regain his balance, and Dirk, ignoring Lars’s order, followed up with a right hook to the chin. The