Collision of Evil by John Le Beau Read Free Book Online

Sedlmeyer was a crank who had simply read newspaper articles about his brother’s death and wanted to rant.
     
Meeting with Sedlmeyer could prove a waste of time. Still, Robert considered, it was hard to envision that meeting with the old man could be a real
mistake.
Other than time, there was little to lose. The proposed meeting was in a public place and Robert hardly felt physically threatened by someone who might be a deranged septuagenarian. So why not? He would need to eat somewhere at any rate. He returned to the still-smiling desk girl and inquired as to how to get to a restaurant called the Alte Post.

Chapter 6
     
    The ancient slash in the mountain dolomite that comprised the cave had always been a cold place; had been that way for millions of years. Day or night caused little difference in the temperature of the cave and there was dampness in the mildly fetid air. He had placed a lamp on the floor of the cavern and the light it cast was spectral against the creviced stone. Glancing around, he noted that nothing appeared amiss, the rows of dusty wooden crates lying undisturbed as they had for so long. Still, there had been an intruder, an unfortunate and potentially disastrous turn of events. Danger had been averted only due to the sheerest luck, that most fickle of commodities.
It was close to a mathematical impossibility that he, the protector of this place, had been in the woods near the cave when the intruder found his way here. Waiting outside in the slapping rain and darkness, he had watched the pale flicker of a flashlight within the stone chamber. And he had waited, not patiently, but angrily, but he had waited nonetheless. It would not have been prudent to rush in. What if the intruder had been armed? He had kept his head and thought the situation through with dispassion. Kill him when he leaves, when he isn’t expecting anything. Then think about next steps.
It would have been preferable if the body had never been discovered. He had thought of that at the time, but there were no other solutions. With the crime committed, with blood and other DNA traces on his clothing, he did not want to risk dragging the body somewhere. Killing was the main thing. Death brought with it one virtue: silence, pure and chaste.
He had believed that with the intruder dispatched, he wouldhave a few days to figure out what to do with the body before anyone stumbled upon it in that remote meadow. He had been wrong, but again, luck, this time bad, had to be held accountable for the rescue worker appearing in the area so unexpectedly. The discovery of the body had ensured predictable consequences: police and forensic experts wandering around, news broadcasts, and requests for potential witnesses to come forward. He allowed himself a thin smile. There were no witnesses other than him and no evidence that would lead anywhere. This meant that the crates and their cargo were safe. The cave was well concealed and far enough from the murder scene to remain secure.
Still, the episode carried a warning. Perhaps the contents of the cave should be moved to another location, possibly to a warehouse in Rosenheim. The items would have to be moved sometime soon anyway if they were to be put to use. The mountain recess, this primordial fissure, had served well for decades. But there had now been a total of three murders in the vicinity. Best not to tempt fate indefinitely.
The first two bodies had never been discovered and now lay, not far removed from the stone chamber, in improvised graves dug into the moist, pungent earth of the pine forest. He recalled how the victims had looked; mouths open in stupefied amazement, as he had slashed the life out of them in wide-arced gouging strokes. In their late teens, both of them, male and female looking so much alike; studies in pale skin, long, oily hair, and dilated pupils. Drug addicts with nothing on them but their narcotic and some needles, the clothes on their back, and a handful of soiled