Genre: Drama, angst, friendship
Spoilers:
End of series 2, "The Reichenbach Fall"
Warnings:
Spoilers, angst, some violence, mentions of drugs, swearing

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A Case of Self-Defence


Alerting the French police of an attempted murder at an office block in Montreuil might have been a big mistake. There is no way, though, that I could have driven away and left Rieger to his fate. With some luck, the police might be able to make sense of some of the evidence in the flat. Many of the web´s activities are software-based and Rieger was not only responsible for the extensive computer programme I now keep on two memory sticks. They might even be able to question Rieger about his activities for the web, and his answers should give the authorities an idea of the plans of Moriarty´s gang.

They will find evidence of my presence, too, but this is not my greatest problem at the moment. The problem is Lelord. He calls me as soon as I pass the Belgian border. "Change of plan," he sneers. "Morbier is not in the mood for a reception. I will meet you at the Gare de Bruxelles-Midi."

As I drive through the city I am already working on a plan. Lelord demanding to meet me at some inconspicuous spot makes me suspicious of his intentions. He is a man who follows his own plans, and he clearly sees me as a threat to Morbier´s favor.

At the station he doesn't board the car but makes me get off to take the driver´s seat himself. He flashes me a dangerous grin. "Let´s go on a pleasureable trip to the country," he says, and off we drive. It doesn´t take long for me to realize that he is heading for the bleak, industrial quarters of the Brussel suburbs.

It is rather dull, I think as we finally stop at an old industry building, that criminals should usually meet in disused warehouses. Or go there to discuss trust issues with their minors, for this is clearly what Lelord has in mind.

"Get out," he snarls as he opens the door for me. "We need to talk."

As soon as I alight, I feel the muzzle of his revolver nudging my left side. "No tricks," he hisses in my ear. "Just follow my lead."

Three iron stairs up we have reached a gallery adorned with abandoned tables and the remnants of industrial equipment strewn on the floor. A wicked grin on his face, his gun still trained on me, Lelord retrieves handcuffs from his jacket and fixes my left hand on the railing. Then he steps back, still smiling.

"You are probably wondering what our small trip is about," he says. "Well, I was actually debating with myself whether I should tell you. It´s only right, I presume, to be honest with someone who´s facing his last minutes."

"You are honest? I bet," I can´t help to remark, realizing that there are not many options left for me at the moment. I will need to take him by surprise, but as long as I am handcuffed, I am helpless. And he has the advantage of a weapon.

Lelord chuckles and starts to pace in front of me, like a cat trailing its prey.

"You were a very valuable addition to our force, Sigerson. You have kept a jealous watch over Rieger, making him obedient. Your first assignment, something to be proud of. But, unfortunately, it will be your last, as well."

"I wonder why," I retort cheekily.

"Priority number one: leave no traces," he replies. "Didier has done the job with Rieger at Paris, now I´m doing mine. "

"Go on then, kill me," I prod.

He shakes his head, pointing his gun at me again. "No, killing you fast would spoil all the fun," he says. "Tell you what. You drop the memory stick and I release you from the railing. After that, it´s either three storeys down or I´ll shoot you – in the abdomen. A quick or a painful death – it´s your decision. I don´t care much which path you choose, but your death will be proof enough to Morbier that you were a traitor. Remember, I found our precious software on you."

I regard him cooly, flipping the device on the floor. "I have made my choice," I say.

Lelord draws nearer, his breath hitching into my face, the gun again pressed against my chest. "I hope you are not too disappointed with how our friendship ends," he hisses as he releases my hand.

There is the slightest moment of silence, then I reach out in one swift moment and grab hold of his right hand, at the same time aiming for his face with my forehead before he has had any chance to move. An ugly sound of breaking bone indicates that I met the right spot, his nose. Lelord grunts in pain and swears, bashing at me with his left hand, trying to rip the right free of my desperate grip. I manage to retain control of his hand, bending his arm down with all the force I can muster, so that the gun doesn´t point at my body anymore. Suddenly, Lelord´s struggling hand comes up again, but I don´t release my grip, even when he punches me hard in the face with his free hand. Finally, I kick out, aiming at the most vulnerable parts of his anatomy, and he doubles up with pain, the gun unvoluntarily and fortunately dropping from his hand.

I grab it and train it on him. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I promised myself that I will never again jump from a height on the request of a dubious character," I say and fire.

Hit in the chest, Lelord slumps back on the railing, breaking through a rusty part of steel, tumbling down into the void which he had destined for me.

Panting and hunching down, I let the gun drop as if it was burning. I have always been prepared to defend myself, but I have never killed. The shot still rings in my ears, my hands are shaking. Minutes pass by without me noticing. When I at last get up to look over the railing, I regard Lelord´s prone figure down below for a long time, still not able to comprehend.

It takes another thirty minutes before I feel less shaky and able to move again.

With Lelord´s death, I have come very close to cut the strings which bind me to Morbier. My next steps will have to be balanced carefully. And I need a plan to convince the Belgian police of how critical the web´s plan is.