Lina is sitting in her hospital bed. She is munching through her
dinner. She looks much better than yesterday, even though her
face is still swollen and she is pale.

We are alone; Ana is out in the gardens with her father. I guess
they have a lot to talk about. A good man, that Mustafa. He is
showing compassion and understanding.

Kammhuber knocks and enters. He sits on the other side of her. He
takes out his Glock pistol and extends it to Lina, holding it by
the barrel.
“Lina, take the weapon.”

Lina looks puzzled but accepts it.
“Eric. See how she holds the pistol. Wrist straight, controlling
it. The barrel points at the ceiling, yet away from her face. Her
hand is around the trigger guard, protecting it. She does not put
a finger through the guard, most people would.”

“Furthermore,” he went on, “she is not scared of it. She is not
afraid yet she does not know whether it is loaded. She is
automatically taking precautions in case it is ready to fire. Did
you see her look at the safety? Checking to see that it isset”?
“No,” I say, “I didn’t.”

“Because, Eric, you are not a trained shooter. But Lina is,
aren’t you”?
Lina swallows, bewildered.
“I, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Someone taught you to use a gun, Lina. Military perhaps. And
they trained you until you could do it in your sleep. No! Keep
it. Tell me if it is loaded.”

“Empty.” Lina says, dumbly, “there’s no clip.”
“Nothing in the breech”?
Lina pulls the sleeve back and inspects it.

“She holds it in front of her, barrel still pointing in the air,”
says Kammhuber, “She looks through that slot on the top, the
ejector. She can see if a round is present in the breech. She
stills slides it back carefully, though, just in case. She cannot
help herself.”

“A driver always puts on the parking brake.” Kammhuber went on.
“Even though the gear lever is in ‘park’ and the vehicle’s on
level ground. He cannot help it, he doesn’t think about it, it’s
automatic. Same with a shooter, Eric, they always take basic
precautions. It is not something you need to think about.”

“Where are you going with this”? I ask.
“Just a minute, Eric. I’m just clearing up something. Tying up
loose ends.”

“Lina”? He asks, “why did you choose the Luger”? Lina was
shaking, ashen faced.
“I don’t know.” She answers weakly.
“I think you do Lina.”

Kammhuber reaches into his bag and brings out another weapon.
“Do you recognize this”? He says, holding it up.
“A VZ.” Says Lina, barely audible.
“A VZ,” repeats the Officer, “we know it as the Skorpion, Eric.
It was designed to be carried by tank crews. It is short, see. So
you can get it in and out of hatchways easily. Is it loaded
Lina”?
“No,”
“How do you know”?

“A magazine slides in behind the grip.”
“Why did you choose the Luger, Lina. Tell me, I know already.”
“I, I… Ana…”
“Yes, Lina. A good choice too yes”?
“I’m… lost, Kammhuber,” I tell the Officer.

“A sub-machinegun, Eric, has a great volume of fire, but it is
not accurate. Lina knows that she would certainly hit her friend
in the confined space of a room. So she takes the Luger, which is
far more accurate. A shooters weapon, yes Lina.”
Lina shrugs.

“What were you looking for when you searched the house, Lina?
Drugs, money”?
Lina says nothing.
“You found the Luger and hid it, where”?
“Umm.”

“I don’t think that you could have run up and down those stairs
Lina, not with your injuries, and you were still sick, yes”?
“Kammhuber”? I say.
“Just a minute Eric. How many raped you, Lina”?
“I don’t know.” Her voice is choked.

“But it was not so bad, Lina. Was it? You were doing it to save
Ana, until, it wasn’t so good”?
“They, Ram he…” Lina breaks down.
“Kammhuber? Is this necessary”? I’m getting angry.

“Ram… he hits me… over the ass… a whip… and he pushes
something … in my ass… it hurt…he tells me… I’m going to
enjoy it…”
“Ok, ok. He rapes you anally. And later on he decides to do it to
Ana, Yes”?
“Yes.”
“So you call Raede, or was he in the bed”?
“The bed.”

“He raped you too”?
“No. He said he was sorry… for the others. He held me, said he
loved me… If he loved me he would have done something. He was
too scared… the coward.”

“So he stayed with you until they went out, yes”?
“Yes… I didn’t have sex with him… I couldn’t…”
“Of course not. They didn’t all leave, did they. Ram stayed
behind”?
“Yes.”
“And goes into Ana, next door”?
“Yes.”

“You decide to save her yourself”?
Lina nods.
“Raede helps you out of bed. You take the Luger, perhaps hidden
under the bed.”
“Yes.”
“Does Raede know you have it?”
“No.”
“He walks you along the landing, to the next room.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what happens next… in your own words.”

“Ana is lying on the bed, face down… she is crying… she’s
bleeding… from her… from her bottom…blood everywhere… Ram
has it smeared over himself…”
“Where was Raede”?
“Behind me… holding me… I shouldn’t have…”
“You take aim, and what”?

“I was aiming for his balls… I was too high… shot him in the
butt instead. Big splash of flesh… he is screaming…Raede
screams too… not for Lina… not for me… for that animal. He
yells for Ram…”
“Go on.”
“I’m angry… I turn around… Raede says, ‘what have you done’?
What have I done, ME?
Ana’s blood all over the place… and my blood… and he asks me
what I’VE done!”

“I shot him… Ana is crying out no! No… but I shot him… I
aimed too high again… meant to get him in the heart…I think
the barrel’s out… shoots too high and off to the right.”
“They all do, you need to compensate for it, aim down and to the
right, see?” says Kammhuber demonstrating with the Glock.
“Ah… I thought it was I…”

“If you had been more familiar with a Luger we would have had one
deceased and one gelding.”
“I meant to kill Ram, after I shot off his balls.”
“Ouch! You are one tough lady Lina. Who taught you”?

“I learned many things in ‘Petersburg… did many things… Eric
doesn’t know…I have not told anybody…”
“Christ!” I exclaim.
“I think that it is best you keep some things to yourself.” The
Officer tells her.

A couple of days later the story breaks in the STAR GAZETTE, a
celebrity weekly here in Germany. The headlines read,

EDISON HIGH STAR IN SHOOTING.

LINA POZNAN IN SHOOTOUT WITH NEO-NAZI THUGS. TWO WOUNDED.

It sounded like a scene from ‘high noon’. Clearly the studio
publicity machine had leaked the story, somewhat sanitized.

‘Lina Poznan, star of Nickelodeon’s ‘Edison High’ is in hospital
in an undisclosed location after she was involved in a shootout
with a gang intending to abduct her and a friend. Lina was in
Germany on holiday after taking a break from the series when her
and a friend were confronted late at night in Karlsruhe.
“They were in a dangerous situation,” Police sources told the
reporter, “although we don’t condone firearm use, they would
certainly have been the victims of a serious assault, even
death”.
Police sources said they have recovered two firearms, a pistol
and a machine gun. Both were in the possession of the gang. It is
believed Lina somehow gained possession of the pistol and turned
it on the gang.
The two girls are believed to have moderate injuries and will be
released from hospital shortly.

Below the story the Editor added.

‘Does it take a beautiful, blond, Russian, teenage girl to show
the police what must be done to make our streets safe? We say
‘good on you Lina Poznan.’

And so it went on.

Back at the hospital the girls’ room is filling up with flowers
and gifts from mostly anonymous fans and well wishers. The police
have had to increase security to prevent fans and reporters from
pestering them.

Ironically, right-wing political parties, usually associated with
anti-immigration issues are treating Lina like a heroine.

Money is beginning to flow in too. The hospital is costing about
4000 Euros a day each for the girls, only part of it is covered
by the National Health system. At last the financial pressure is
off me.

Lina loves the attention, however. It is invigorating her, but
not so poor Ana. She is becoming more withdrawn and depressed. I
feel the injuries to her mind will take a lot longer to heal then
her body.

“Eric? Will you look after Ana… she’s not strong… I fear for
her,” Lina says to me one day. “I know you could fix things…
you can always fix things…”
“How”? I ask, “I’m not a counselor or a psychologist, she needs
expert help.”
“But you will do what you can? I trust you. You were always good
to me Eric. I never should…”

Later she says, “Ana wants to be an actress too. You could help
her… like you did me… you could make her an actress and she
would be happy.”
‘Oh no’, I groan inwardly.

Lina management and financial hassles are slowly being sorted.
She was underage when she signed her new contract so that makes
it invalid. Now the problem of recovering $40,000 or so of her
money. That will take longer.

Ana’s mother is here from Frankfurt where she lives. It takes a
few hours of coaxing before Mustafa agrees to meet her. I have an
idea to run before them concerning Ana.

There’s a Stage and Screen School in Frankfurt and I suggest that
I can get Ana a place. It would mean that she would have to live
with her Mother.

Meanwhile I have a marriage to repair and a business to recover.
Having done what I can for the present in Karlsruhe I point the
Audi north and head home up the West Bank of the mighty Rhine.

I left Lina, once again, deluged in attention and hardly noticing
my departure. When I went to say goodbye she was beaming at some
young male reporter whom, clearly captivated, was hanging on
every phrase.
“In Russia we learnt to take care of ourselves,” (knowing smile)
she was telling him.
“Yes but you must have been scared?” asks the reporter.
“They were just boys,” she explains, “haven’t you any real men in
Germany?”
‘Oh brother!’ I thought, ‘the sooner she gets back to LA the
better.’

Sophia’s in the kitchen when I get home. There’s a crashing and
bashing that husbands the worlds over know so well, the sound of
an angry wife.

“Hi babe,” I greet her cheerily. No answer.
“Darling,” I say moving in behind her and lightly circling her
hips.
“Leave me alone, Eric!” she says, “what are you doing home?”
“I missed you.”
“Scheisse!” she says, jabbing her elbow back at me.

Most people like to curse in their native tongue. They can apply
just the correct amount of vehemence to it unmatched in any but
one’s language of birth.

“(Ger) You have a nerve coming in here all loving after having
spent days and nights at your lovers bedside. How much money have
you spent on her, Eric? All our savings?”
“That’s unfair…” I try to say.
“(Ger) UNFAIR! You schweinhund, you miserable excuse for a man,
UNFAIR? Why are you crawling back here, has she finished with
you, again?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Well don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

As a director I work with people, not cameras. I pride myself in
my ability to get along with people, especially their tantrums.
At those times I can think most clearly.

Patience, patience and understanding, knowing when to bully and
cajole, the right time to praise and flatter, these are my stock
in trade.

Two things I need to do when faced with a furious wife. First,
maneuver her away from the cutlery, second, stand my ground and
wait her out. Like standing in an air lock, you need to allow the
pressure to ease before you can open the door. Half Aristocratic
Austrian and half Italian she can build a lot of pressure.

Now I had a pal, once who had been flattened by his
Romanian-Greek wife with a frozen turkey. He had a depressed
fracture of the skull and it took him two months to recover, 4
years to make up. Then there was Lorena Bobbit and those famous
shears. I ease between Sophia and the cutlery.

She’s beginning to cry, a good sign, it tells me she’s nearly
finished. I gently advance towards her waiting for her to
collapse in my arms.

But instead, WHACK. A straight arm punch right to the mid-riff
doubles me up. I wasn’t expecting that and it knocks all the air
out of me.
“Jeez, Sophia,” I gasp.

I stumble forward into her. I figure that if I’m close she can’t
get any speed or power in the next punch.
I grab her around the waist and hang on. She’s beating at my back
but there’s no force in them. Then she’s trying to twist so she
can go in with the knee, now I’m ticked off!

On impulse I go in with the shoulder and lift her bodily up and
over. She’s drumming on my back and growling at me to put her
down. I carry her right through to the bedroom and dump her on
the bed.

I figure my manhood’s at stake here, not just physically but
psychologically. Before I could react though, she sits up and
slaps me right across the face. This is not the Sophia I know and
love.
“WILL YOU STOP FUCKING HITTING ME,” I yell, and pin her arms to
the bed. I am losing my temper.

“Let go of me!” she says, menacingly.
“Not until you calm down,” I reply.
“I will not!”
“Where’s Bella?” I ask, changing the subject.
“At Tante Lotties, safe from you. Let go of me you child
fucker.”
“Child fu… What!” I reply in astonishment.
“You heard me, Eric. I know what you did to that Russian, she was
underage. No wonder she’s all fucked up.”

Keeping my genitals out of her reach I continue to pin her to the
bed.
“Listen!” I say, ” Lina was a woman/child well before I met her.
She’d already seen more of life than any child should. If it
weren’t for me she’d be a 10c whore in St Petersburg. I gave her
the best chance she’d ever had. Sure! I loved her, and I showed
her how to love, something she’d never experienced before.
I don’t know whether I did the best for her, whether I helped her
deal with her demons enough, but thinking of Lina, I doubt a
panel of psychologists and social workers could have made her
half as happy as she was with me.”

“You still fucked her, Eric, knowing she was too young…”
“She was never too young, Sophia, I learnt today that she could
have shot off my balls with her eyes shut.”
“What the hell are you saying?”
“A long story.”

I must say I quite enjoyed pinning Sophia like this. Her scowling
at me, chest heaving, and beads of perspiration on her forehead,
she looked quite sexy.
“Ok, ok,” she says, “let me up.”
“There’s the question of the sucker punch,” I tell her.
“You deserved it, you’ve been a prick.”
‘Maybe, but I seem to remember we agreed long ago we would never
hit each other in anger.”
“I’m sorry, I lost my temper,” she replies.
“No excuse,” I say, “you need to be punished.”

With one movement I flip her over on to her stomach. I then give
her a perfectly aimed slap right across her jean-covered ass.
“Ow, that hurt, Eric, what are you doing?”
“Get off your jeans and panties, now!” I tell her sternly.
“What!” she replies uncertainly.
“Now!” I emphasize the command with another slap.

She takes off her pants with a bemused look on her face. All the
time she’s telling me that,
‘I’d better watch out,’ and, ‘don’t carry this on too far.’

I get her to lie over my lap and to pull up her shirt. Her bare
bottom is now exposed, still the peach that turned me on two
years ago. WHACK her flesh ripples, she gives a little start,
WHACK, she grunts and sucks in her breath. I then deliver some
quick fire slaps on both her cheeks. She twists and turns her
ass, this way and that to avoid the rain of blows.
“OW, OH, OUCH, Eric, stop it. OW… please, no more, OW, you’re
hurting, OW, OW.”

I figure ten is enough. She lies on her stomach rubbing her ass
that is a nice rosy color. She’s panting away like a steam
train.
“Put your ass in the air,” I tell her, releasing my throbbing
member, “it’s time to complete that next part.”

I slip into her easily, she is warm and well lubricated. Sophia
immediately grinds back at me, wriggling and gyrating her ass
around. I seize one of her cheeks and grab her pussy with my
other hand. I rub her slippery slit with my finger in time to my
steady rhythm. She’s soon grunting and gasping.

In no time she’s stabbing back at me and urging me to go faster.
She’s soon shaking and howling out her orgasm. She stiffens then
flops on the bed.
“Turn over,” I command, “and pull up your top.”

“Eric, no,” she says, pulling up her top and bra, “please, I’m
too tired.” But she puts her feet up on my shoulders and grins at
me as I push myself back into her turgid vagina.

This time I’m able to squeeze her nipples and play with her
breasts as I pound into her in steadily increasing speed. She has
her eyes tight shut, her mouth is slightly open or held in a
grimace of exertion.
Her breasts flop crazily across her chest, when released, with
each thrust of my pelvis. After a while my rhythm is increased
and she is starting to gabble in German.
“Gott… fick mich… JA… JA… starklich… schnell…
schnell… fick mich…”

Her orgasm is the strongest I’ve ever seen her have. Shortly
after I give her the benefit of my stored up jism, she scissors
me with her legs, beats on my back then claws at my ass. Gasping
and struggling for breath, she doesn’t know whether to scream or
cry, holler or sob. She pounds the bed with her fists then
clutches me around the neck until I think she’ll choke me.

Later, she’s trying to disentangle her bra and top from around
her neck. Her chest is still heaving and she’s bathed in sweat.
I’m lying on my stomach trying to cool down.
“Eric?” she says in a small voice.
“Unhh.”
“I think… you’ve just… made me… pregnant.”