He stood on the fourth step at a side door of the Federal Supreme Administrative Court at Simonsplatz. Henri Walker’s viewpoint covered the stream of demonstrators arriving from the Nicholas Church. He was waiting for his target to appear. This was his first proficiency test. If he succeeded, Helga had told him, he would become one of them. The training at Passau had been extremely hard to start with, but Helga had always been by his side, edging him on – giving him encouragement when he thought he wouldn’t make it. After the initial four weeks of physical training he began to enjoy it. After 12 weeks he was now a man to fear, a natural talent, proficient at the martial arts and a marksman with rifle and small arms. He could kill a man with his bare hands. He was 198 cm tall – his blond crew-cut hair, and blue-eyes – trained to stare without falter under pain and physical hardness during training, gave him the appearance of a person to avoid. With 110 kg of bone and muscle, he was the best recruit they’d ever had – feared by other recruits and trainers, some of whom had ended up in hospital with a tag – discarded.
He spotted his rabbit. Its features and build were well imprinted into his memory. He moved slowly and casually down the steps, melting into the crowd. He stopped now and again to avoid drawing attention. He was within 3 metres of his lovely bunny rabbit. He watched her intensively for a few minutes knowing the sacrifice was for one Henri Walker – a good choice, he thought. She was a Jewess he had been told and was hurting the cause – that was reason enough. He had developed a thing about bayonets. His choice for today was a 1900 German Mauser, one of the hardest bayonets to use as a dagger because of its length. He moved closer, looking away, until the group he’d approached resumed talking. She was only just under a metre away. He put his hand under his jacket, pulling the Mauser from its well-oiled sheath. With one move of his right arm, he shoved the bayonet into the rabbit’s stomach and upwards towards the chest, leaning forward to balance on his victim, looking her directly in the face, then pushing himself off her – at the same time turning and extracting the bayonet. He moved away casually, opening his jacket and shoving his weapon back into its sheath, bloody as it was. He flipped his jacket to and made for the middle of the throng in front of the Federal Court – swallowed up by the main crowd. How easy it was – he was one of them now – Helga will be pleased.