In a surgery halfway down the hall, a medical doctor was preparing his surgical instruments as a nurse arrived. The doctor spoke in Russian to the nurse.
“Everything ready, Elena?” Grigori asked.
“Yes.”
“Good, bring him in. Let’s get on with it.”
The nurse left the surgery just as Mads appeared, pushing the gurney with Hendrik masquerading as a sleeping patient. It was easy to see which room was Wilho’s. An NKVD guard sat outside the door and watched the nurse approach, going inside the room.
In the surgery, Grigori pulled a flask from his pocket and drank from it before putting on his blue scrubs. He had done this kind of thing many times in the past for his NKVD masters. It was a simple operation. The patient would recover or not, depending on the information supplied to his superiors. The operation was a smoke screen and allowed them to pump the patient with sodium amytal at their leisure in a hospital environment.
Grigori looked up and noticed a strange man in a lab coat pushing a gurney down the hall. It was unusual to see activity so late at night, so he stepped towards the door to have a look.
The guard paid little attention to Mads as he swung the gurney around so he could back it into the room next door to Wilho’s. He was just starting to back up when Hendrik turned on his side and shot the guard twice from beneath the blanket. The popping sounds from the Welrod were muted and sounded like the gurney had banged into a door.
Hendrik jumped off the gurney and rushed into Wilho’s room, leaving Mads to watch for movement in the hall. Hendrik stood in the shadows watching Elena with her back to him move the bed away from the wall. He pointed his gun at her.
“Stop, stay where you are.”
The nurse turned to look at Hendrik and seemed unimpressed by the weapon.
“I have to take this man into surgery, sir.”
“Stay where you are, don’t move,” Hendrik ordered her.
Down the hall, Grigori ran back into the surgery and pulled a Tokarev pistol from his bag. He left the room.
Peter and Bernie had been moving from room to room to avoid being seen in the hall. They noticed the doctor creeping up on Mads with the Tokarev in his hand.
Bernie pulled a wire garrote from his pocket and made a sign for Peter to stay out of sight. He kicked off his shoes and dashed in his socks down the hall towards the doctor. Just as Grigori surprised Mads with the pistol, Bernie yanked the doctor off his feet with the garrote. The Tokarev clattered to the floor as he struggled in vain.
Peter ran down the hall to lend a hand and took Mads’ place at the door as Mads went in to assist Hendrik. As Mads entered the room, Elena lunged at Hendrik with a scalpel aiming for his throat. Hendrik instinctively raised his arm to protect himself and the blade cut deep into his forearm. Mads didn’t hesitate and shot the nurse twice in the chest. As she slumped to the floor, Hendrik looked down at his arm, which was leaking blood all over his clothes.
“That damn bitch cut me.”
“Put a compress on it,” Mads said. “We need to stop the bleeding.”
As Hendrik went out looking for bandages, Mads noticed that Wilho was starting to wake up.
“How are you feeling, Wilho?” Mads asked.
“What are you doing here, Mads?” Wilho asked, coughing loudly. “Where am I?”
“You’re in a private hospital. We’re taking you home.”
Peter entered the room and looked down at the nurse.
“What happened?”
“The nurse attacked Hendrik.”
“How is he?”
“Hendrik has a nasty wound, but he will be all right. Wilho is just waking up,” Mads said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Half an hour later, Mads and Bernie pushed a gurney out the delivery door in the basement towards a waiting car. They dumped the dead doctor in the boot of the car on top of the NKVD guard. Peter and Hendrik arrived with Wilho in a wheelchair and helped him into the back seat.
“We’ll take him home first,” Peter said.
“Good idea. He needs to sleep it off,” Hendrik remarked, looking down at his bandaged arm.
“One more to go,” Bernie said as he returned with Mads to collect the dead nurse and clean the blood off the floor.
It was almost dawn as Bernie and Mads threw the last Russian into the canal with a resounding splash. They were parked in a secluded spot, away from the traffic on the road.
“Where’d you learn to use the garrote, Bernie?” Mads asked.
“A long time ago in the Spanish war. I was with the bloody International Brigade. We had to kill silently when we launched our night attacks.”
“Peter, do you want a drink?” Hendrik asked, standing nearby.
“I’d love a drink,” Peter said. “Thanks.”
Hendrik gave him the bottle of whisky that he had taken from Bernie’s car. Peter took a swig from the bottle.
“Everything tickety-boo, guv?” Bernie asked.
“Fine, Bernie.”
“Blimey, they’re drinking my scotch!” he exclaimed. “Gimme that bottle, will you Peter?”
Peter handed the bottle to Bernie, who drank from it.
“We had a good night,” Mads said.
“You fellahs were first class,” Bernie said. “Bloody hell, did you see how Hendrik shot that NKVD tosser from the hip?”
“He’s a talented chap,” Mads said with a smile.
Bernie took a swig and passed the bottle around.