to himself.
He liked to do that because he imagined that he would be able to think more focused with acoustic support. He also read the difficult rules loud and clear in the lab, sometimes one, two, even three times before he really understood them.
Christiane liked to laugh at him when she caught him again in his self-explanations.
"Maybe they did not understand the content ever," came an important enlightenment that admittedly came out of his mouth very loudly.
"Why? Do you understand?", He heard clearly a voice next to him.
Where had this man in his black coat with an old-fashioned bowler or a melon on his head and a very British accent in his voice suddenly appeared?
Gerstenmayer was shocked and stopped as if petrified.
"Sir, wha-a-t do you mean? I do not understand your question. Or can you read some thoughts?"
"Not exactly, but I have good ears, and you've just chatted to yourself that 'they did not understand the content’. So I combine razor-sharp that you have strapped it. My clients and I are very interested in the content of writing in your jacket, and you will surely tell me. It should not be to your disadvantage. Otherwise ...", now the stranger's vulgar but still friendly face became rock hard. He grinned meanly and squinted at a hidden object in his pocket.
Gerstenmayer was visibly startled. "Since when do you call me with my first name?" He asked just to gain some time, then added, "How would I trust a stranger to confide in laboratory secrets?" Something better had not occurred to him in the near future.
"So, you work in a lab? Is there something like that anymore? And if so, where? About here in Vienna? You're getting more and more interesting! So I landed a direct hit!" The stranger was suddenly polite and friendly again.
Gerstenmayer realized that he had probably made a big mistake. He had gone to the fickle stranger and could not change it now. Suddenly a thought shot into his head, and he planned to counter the acting of his counterpart with a performance of his own.
Suddenly he dropped and, with painful facial pains and screaming, pretended to have fallen over a steel rod that had slipped over the road and injured himself. In a flash, he moistened his hand with saliva and smeared the reddish-brown rust of the iron down his leg. In the collapsing darkness it really looked something like blood, and the stranger reacted at first dumbfounded, but immediately pulled the gun out of his pocket and threatened his prisoner, that's how Gerstenmayer felt now.
After all, the stranger believed him this film-ready scene without suspicion. He threw his arm behind his back and held his mouth shut with his other hand to suppress the pathetic screaming. By that time they were already on the bank of the Danube, and the Chinese Vasudevas had become aware of their scream and ran to meet them.
The stranger was uncertain for a moment how he should behave now, but evaluated his chances of coming up against such superiority, despite his weapon very bad, let Gerstenmayer go jerky and piled with the annoying hiss between his lips: "Friend "See you again!"
His last look met Gerstenmayer's face, which showed relieved, triumphant features. Barely was the first Chinese at Gerstenmayer, the stranger disappeared already in a near ruin.
"That was close, but well done," said Gerstenmayer clearly audible himself.
The ferry people helped him up, but did not recognize in the dusk, from what danger they had saved their customers, on which they stormed now storming. This hired right at the first best, gave him everything he had with him. The man was very surprised and thought he should hurry, because the rain would start immediately. They hurried to the boat, and the oarsman lay down in the thongs.
Gerstenmayer tried to accept the language of the foreigner and asked: "Tunnel, where? Tunnel, subway? "The Chinese looked at him as if he understood only the station and the departure. Gerstenmayer tried a little louder again: "Where... Tunnel?"
This time he explained the search term with a pantomime insert that indicated a bottom and scurrying fingers underneath. Finally, Gerstenmayer let it rain with his fingers, and his worried look went to heaven. Now the oarsman's face shone like an enlightened lightbulb, and he pointed to the remnants of a steel skeleton whose glazing looked fused. Gerstenmayer also realized that this could have been an elevator to the underground once. On the other bank he ran to the ruin work of art, the first drops fell from the sky. He was saved twice. But where was Prof. Baum? In which criminal machinations was he involved?
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