Текст книги "Rosa"

Автор книги: Jonathan Rabb

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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching from beyond the cavern’s opening, and he slowly tightened the grip around his pistol: he kept it low, hidden behind Rosa’s torso. From the sound of it, there were several men making their way back. Hoffner tried to pick out the exact number: it was the only way he knew to keep his mind focused.

A light began to grow, the beam bobbing to the rhythm of the steps as they drew closer. Hoffner heard a whispering of voices, indistinct words dulled by the wood and dirt. A single “There” broke through, and a moment later two young soldiers– Freikorpsfrom their uniforms-stepped into the shadowed chamber. Immediately they raised their rifles, keeping Hoffner in their sights. Braun was directly behind them; he stepped past them as a second man appeared at the opening. The man had a strikingly handsome face and carried a small jar in his hands.

Braun spoke with his usual charm: “What a surprising sense of symmetry you have, Herr Oberkommissar.The Rosenthaler Platz. Wouters’s den. One might even say there’s a sentimental side to you.” Hoffner said nothing.

The second man now stepped forward. His focus was on Rosa. He seemed agitated. “They’ve removed the unguent.”

Braun put up a hand to stop him. “Step away from the body, Herr Oberkommissar.”

Hoffner remained where he was. “You can tell Herr DoktorManstein that I’m quite harmless, Herr Braun. Especially when I’ve got two rifles aimed at my chest.”

Braun showed only a moment’s surprise. “And what else did you learn on your trip to Munich, Herr Oberkommissar?”

Hoffner spoke across to Manstein. “Your father-in-law did excellent work creating this little haven for Wouters, Herr Doktor.Naturally the idea was yours.”

Manstein studied Hoffner. He said nothing.

“I’m guessing the engineer Sazonov wasn’t much of an expense,” Hoffner continued. “Or his family. No reason to pay the dead.” Hoffner saw a glimmer of confirmation in the eyes. “Must have been difficult being away from Munich all that time. The only one who knew how to apply the Ascomycete 4 to Frulein Koop, the only one who could placate Wouters with the appropriate injections between escapades, though I’m sure Herr DirektorSchumpert was delighted to have his daughter and grandchildren in the city for such an extended period of time.”

Manstein stared at him without a trace of emotion. “Am I meant to be impressed?”

“But that’s not all you were good for, was it, Herr Doktor?” said Hoffner.

Manstein’s gaze grew colder still. “Can we shoot him now and get on with this?”

Hoffner looked at Braun. “That would make it quite a day for you, wouldn’t it, Herr Braun?”

“Even with your back up against it,” said Braun. “I will give you that.” Braun unclipped his holster. “You’re going to be my second carver, Herr Hoffner. Quite a story for the papers. Killing your own wife. Now, what kind of mind does that?” Braun began to pull out his pistol.

Without warning, six of Pimm’s men emerged from the shadows, their guns drawn. Two had appeared from just outside the opening and now had their pistols pressed up against each of the soldiers’ necks. The rifles were quickly handed over. Braun had turned at the sudden movement, and when he looked back, the barrel of Hoffner’s pistol was staring him in the face. Hoffner reached over and took Braun’s gun. He then nodded him over to a pair of chairs that Pimm was placing at the center of the cavern. Braun showed remarkable restraint as he made his way over.

“So tell me,” said Braun as Zenlo tied off his hands behind him. “How islittle Franz?”

“Don’t worry,” said Hoffner. “He still thinks he was helping you.”

“Which means he’ll know you were the one to pull the trigger when I end up dead, won’t he?”

Hoffner holstered his gun and said, “Now, why would I want to do that?”

Pimm nodded over to the men by the soldiers. “Get the two of them out of here. Keep them busy for a few hours. Shoot them if you have to.”

Hoffner waited until the Freikorpsboys were gone before speaking. He picked up the jar and said, “Your private stash, Herr Doktor?” Manstein remained silent. “It was the only way I could think of getting you back here. How long do you think before she needs another slathering?”

Braun said, “If you’re not going to kill us, Herr Oberkommissar,then this is going to be a very long night.”

Hoffner nodded as if in agreement. “I said Iwasn’t going to kill you, Herr Braun. I can’t speak for my friends, here.” Hoffner hurled the jar against the wall and watched as the glass and grease shattered to the ground. “Wouters,” he said, again nodding to himself. “That was such a clever choice, wasn’t it? Old women and lace. Luxemburg and Jew-baiting, all in one.” He turned to Manstein. “It must have taken you months to find him. . all the way back to June of ’18. But then, you were already familiar with Sint-Walburga and their intriguing new patient, weren’t you?” Hoffner saw a moment of recognition in Manstein’s otherwise implacable stare. “Did they call you in to consult on the original case? Or was it a letter from a colleague that introduced you to Herr Wouters?” Manstein’s silence was confirmation enough. “Very impressive, Herr Doktor.You knew the war was lost, the Kaiser was on shaky ground. And we were suddenly at peace with the Russians-who knew what to expect from the socialists after that? But to see all the way through to November, to revolution. .” Hoffner looked across at Pimm. “That was very impressive, don’t you think?”

Pimm perked up at being included. “Oh yes,” he said with a nod. “Very.”

Manstein snorted dismissively.

“It wasn’tvery impressive, mein Herr?” said Hoffner.

Manstein refused to look at Hoffner. “Just because you don’t understand a thing doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.” His voice had a refined quality: schools, breeding, a sense of entitlement. Manstein did nothing to hide his contempt. “It was a precautionary measure.” He now looked up. “Evidently it was a precaution worth taking.”

Hoffner said, “So you did all of this just to cover up killing Luxemburg?”

Manstein looked genuinely perplexed by the question. “Is that what you think, Herr Policeman?”

It wasn’t, but Hoffner needed to engage the man. Braun saw what Hoffner was after and tried to stop it. “Herr Doktor,you don’t have to say anything-”

“Shut up, Braun.” Manstein continued to stare up at Hoffner.

Braun held his own. “You’d be wise to let me take care of this.”

“I’m tied to a chair in an excavation pit. I think you’ve done all you can.”

Braun insisted: “He hasn’t an inkling of what’s going on here.”

“He has her,” Manstein cut in. “And I don’t think he’ll be giving her back.” It was a cold, unflappable stare that now peered at Hoffner. “You won’t be giving her back to us, will you, Herr Oberkommissar?”

Evidently the marriage between the Thulians and the Polpo had been one of convenience. Hoffner knew he needed to take full advantage of that. “Did you enjoy the work, Herr Doktor?” he asked.

For the first time, uncertainty flashed through Manstein’s eyes. “Excuse me?”

Hoffner gave Braun no time to interrupt: “It’s a shame you didn’t study your patient more closely. I imagine you were a bit too clever there, as well.” Hoffner watched as the uncertainty grew. “For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why Wouters’s knife work was so smooth while the second carver’s was so jagged and angled. I assumed it was someone like Tamshik, or even Braun here, but then the accuracy of the lines on the back was too good-too close to the original-not to be someone who actually had some skill with a knife. But to make it look too good, that would have been a problem, wouldn’t it? So you had to alter your hand. After all, Wouters was mad, and didn’t madness imply a kind of frenzy with the cutting? You must have watched him, seen him slice up the backs of those women, so you’d know how to re-create the pattern. But you didn’t watch him closely enough, did you? This was an art for him. Battered and bloody hands hadn’t stopped him as a boy from creating the most delicate lace patterns. His work was pristine.” Hoffner paused. “Unlike yours.”

Manstein stared coldly ahead.

“The Tiergarten whore,” said Hoffner. “You got impatient. The Polpo wanted you to wait, but that was unacceptable. Wouters wasn’t killing fast enough, and he was staying in the wrong part of town. You needed him in the Westend so you could get the kind of hysteria you wanted. Such a perfect spot, the U-Bahn station at the zoo. The threat of east coming west. Tell me, Herr Doktor,was it only the carving, or did you do the killing, as well?”

Braun had heard enough: “Don’t let him do this.”

Manstein ignored Braun: “More efficient that way, wouldn’t you say, Herr Oberkommissar?”

With sudden venom, Hoffner cracked the back of his hand across Manstein’s face. Manstein showed almost no reaction, while Braun flinched. Manstein’s lip began to bleed and he licked at it with his tongue. “Does that make you feel better, Herr Oberkommissar?”

Hoffner was doing all he could to maintain his self-control: how easy it would be to beat this man to death, he thought. “Why Luxemburg?” he said.

Manstein spat a wad of blood. “You seem to be doing so well on your own. Why don’t you tell me?”

Braun tried again. “This is exactly what he wants. How is it that you’re incapable of seeing that?”

Manstein spat again. “Never the larger picture with you, Braun, is it?” Manstein wiped his chin on his shoulder and then looked up at Hoffner. “Go on, Detective. See if you can figure this out before Herr Braun here manages it.”

It was clear that Manstein wanted to be pressed: that Hoffner had yet to figure out why was no reason to disappoint him. “She was a means to an end,” he said.

Manstein offered another snort of contempt. “If we’re going to state the obvious, I’d prefer the bullet.”

Hoffner was inclined to grant the request, but that wasn’t why he was here; instead, he tried to imagine where Jogiches might have taken things now. “All right,” he said. “Berlin on edge. . Rosa’s body discovered. . not much of a stretch to stir up fear of a Red reprisal for her killing. The Reds ready to strike. .” Hoffner was building momentum. “Enter the Freikorps.Naturally the government gives them free rein to eliminate the problem-we can thank your former General Nepp in Defense for that-and you kill two birds with one stone. The socialists are purged, and your military wing gets a foothold in the political door, and all in the name of reestablishing order.” Hoffner knew there were too many holes in the theory to count. His only hope was that Manstein had found it equally unimpressive.

“A deadLuxemburg?” said Manstein. “Triggering socialist reprisals with the design etched onto her back? And that makes sense to you, Herr Oberkommissar?” Ego was always so transparent with men like this. “Wouldn’t that, in fact, have done just the opposite-allow the Reds to stop worrying about who had killed their beloved Rosa because, now, she would have been nothing more than another unfortunate victim of some madman?” Manstein seemed almost disappointed by Hoffner’s attempt. “Nothing gained there. No one to blame, Herr Oberkommissar.No reason to bring in the Korps.”

It was an odd choice-the word “blame”-thought Hoffner. He tried to see beyond it. If not Wouters, then who? Even Manstein had to admit that the Jews were too vague a target, lace designs notwithstanding. No. Manstein had made it clear that someone else was meant to take responsibility for her death. That was the key. That was why the bodies were piling up all over again. Someone who could. .

Hoffner stopped. Of course.He looked across at Pimm, and the words came back to him. This was a crime like any other, no matter how intricate its planning: and like all crimes, misdirection lay at its core.

Hoffner suddenly understood where he had gone wrong. He had been focusing on what these men had been trying to keep hidden, the layers to be peeled away: that was what made for conspiracy. But what if it was the other way round? What if the key was in what they wanted revealed?

Hoffner looked again at Manstein. “You wanted the Kripo to dig deep, didn’t you, Herr Doktor?”

Mantein’s expression seemed to soften. “Dig, Herr Oberkommissar?” He sounded almost encouraging. “And what was it that you were meant to find?”

Hoffner began to see it. “It’s really quite brilliant, isn’t it? Because it’s exactly what it appears to be. Wouters unleashed on the city. The murders as a ruse to create hysteria. All to cover up Luxemburg’s killing. You wanted it all to come out because it was all meant to lead back to one place. Nepp. Your man in the Defense Ministry.”

“ Verygood, Herr Oberkommissar.”

Hoffner plowed on. “Nepp was the one to give the orders to separate Luxemburg and Liebknecht that night.” Another flash of clarity. “And he was the one responsible for getting Wouters out of Belgium, wasn’t he?” When Manstein said nothing, Hoffner continued, “Oster’s orders. The ones to get him over the border. They were signed by GeneralNepp, weren’t they?”

Manstein was actually enjoying this. “Excellent.” Again Braun made a motion to speak, and again Manstein stopped him. “Go on, Herr Oberkommissar.”

“You created the conspiracy with the sole purpose of laying it all at Ebert’s feet. The tragedy of the last two months-it was all meant to be seen as little more than a highly elaborate scheme by the government to get rid of one of its more dangerous enemies. Rosa. Innocent women killed-”

“The city terrorized,” Manstein added with a strange satisfaction.

“Except it’s not you and your Thulian friends who get the blame. The conspiracy comes to light, and it’s Herr Nepp who makes certain to implicate the Social Democrats when he falls on his sword. The government is sent reeling and the Freikorpssteps in to bring us all back from the brink.”

“No wonder you managed it so quickly with Wouters,” Manstein said.

Backhanded compliments aside, Hoffner needed to fill in the missing pieces. “So why hold on to her?” he said. “Why not have Rosa’s body discovered in late January? Everything else was in place.”

“Why not indeed?” said Manstein. “Perhaps Herr Braun would like to answer that one?” Braun had given up trying: he sat with a vacant stare. Manstein continued: “Braun underestimated you. He convinced us it would take you several months to find Wouters. By then the city would be in a panic, the murders would be front-page news every day. You had managed to keep the case hidden throughout the revolution. We needed time to build the hysteria, to let Frulein Luxemburg be our crowning jewel, the focus of the conspiracy to come. Unfortunately, you tracked down Wouters too quickly.”

“So why not stop Wouters from taking his victim to the Ochsenhofthat night?” Hoffner pressed. “I don’t catch him and the killings go on.” Manstein waited for Hoffner to put it together himself. “You didn’t haveWouters by then, did you?”

“The Koop girl,” Manstein said. “Once you took her, there was nothing to bring him back to the site. The little engineer Sazonov was cleverer than we thought. And once Wouters was gone, he needed to be dead. Tossing Luxemburg out after that, without a captivated public-and with you a hero-would have meant nothing. She would have been the victim of a crime already solved, and without any link to Nepp.”

Something didn’t sit right. “But she wastossed out. The Kripo found her floating in the Landwehr Canal.”

Hoffner had hit a nerve. Again Manstein’s expression soured. “You can thank Rifleman Runge for that.” Manstein shook his head. “The boy got overexcited. Killed her too quickly. The knife work had to be done directly after death, otherwise the skin would have lost its elasticity. I managed to get to him in time, but then that mob you’ve been hearing so much about actually stumbled upon us. Down by the river. No choice but to find an embankment and hide her. Your comrades discovered her before we could get back. Braun was actually something of a help there.”

Hoffner’s mind was racing. Everything to set up Ebert’s government. Everything to place the blame where it least belonged.

“And Eisner?” said Hoffner. “The assassination? Berlin hysteria wasn’t enough? You had to bring it home to Munich, as well?”

“That,” said Manstein, “had nothing to do with us. We wouldn’t have sent a Jew to do our dirty work.”

No need for a coup, thought Hoffner. No need for an assassin’s bullet. With Nepp in place, it had all been much subtler than that. Hoffner said, “And then the digging went too far.”

“Yes,” said Manstein, lingering with the word. “Your trip to Munich was something of an eye-opener. Not that it was as much of a problem as you might think. It was time to start leaving bodies again, build up the hysteria.” Manstein peered directly into Hoffner’s eyes. “That was where we managed two birds with one stone, Herr Oberkommissar.Your wife seemed the perfect choice.”

There was something dead inside Hoffner, and no amount of goading could stir it to life. He said, “You’re taking this all very calmly, Herr Doktor.”

“As are you, Herr Oberkommissar.”

Hoffner said nothing.

“In fact,” Manstein added, “if you think about it, I’m handingit to you, Detective, not taking it.”

Again, Manstein was leading him. “And why is that?” said Hoffner.

“And here I thought you were so much cleverer than Herr Braun and his Polpo.” When Hoffner remained silent, Manstein spoke more deliberately: “As I said, you have her. And without Frau Luxemburg-”

“Yes. No conspiracy,” said Hoffner. “I understand that.”

“Yes, I think you do.” Manstein waited before adding, “But if you arrest us. .”

Hoffner listened to the tone in Manstein’s voice, and allowed himself to see beyond all of this: to the press meetings, the newspapers, Manstein paraded out in front of all of them. And it suddenly became clear. “Too many questions,” Hoffner said, almost to himself. “And ones you’d be only too happy to answer. Either way it would lead them back to Nepp.”

“Precisely,” said Manstein. “And from Nepp to Ebert. The larger picture, Herr Oberkommissar.Obviously, you’re going to dispose of Frulein Luxemburg, so you and I seem to be at an impasse. My friends and I have nothing to ignite our scheme, and you can’t take the risk that exposing us wouldn’t ultimately fall in Ebert’s lap. Your finding all this out-or, rather, your having it spoon-fed to you-stops you from doing anything. Too much to lose. A final safeguard, if you will, even if Herr Braun here didn’t quite understand that. Shame it had to come to this.”

Hoffner thought for a moment. “So why not kill you?”

Manstein was no less poised. “You’re not going to do that, Herr Oberkommissar.It’s not who you are.” Manstein waited. He then let out a long breath and, with surprising candor, said, “So I think we’re done here.” He turned to Zenlo. “You can remove the ropes now.” Manstein jiggled his wrists in Zenlo’s direction.

Hoffner said, “You’re forgetting we still have a murderer on the loose.”

“Oh, you’ll find someone to take the fall for that, Herr Oberkommissar.The Kripo always does. And it’s not as if it would be the first time, now would it?” Manstein turned again to Zenlo. “A knife, please. It’s becoming uncomfortable.”

Hoffner watched as Pimm and Zenlo shared a glance. They were no better prepared for this than Hoffner was. Hoffner said, “And everything goes on as it was? Is that the idea, Herr Doktor?”

For a moment, Manstein looked truly baffled by the question. “‘Goes on as it. .?’ Let me ask you this, Herr Oberkommissar-how long do you think the German people will suffer a Friedrich Ebert Germany? The man’s already talking about running away from Berlin and setting up shop in Weimar. Everything as it was? Does that seem possible to you anymore? All you’ve done here is to delay the inevitable.”

The cavern became uncomfortably quiet. Hoffner tried to find something to say, but he had no answer. If the men in Munich had come this close, this time. . Manstein had him either way. What choice was there?

Hoffner looked over at Zenlo and held out his hand. “Give me your knife,” he said. Again Zenlo looked to Pimm, and again Pimm said nothing. “Your knife,” Hoffner repeated. With no recourse, Zenlo stepped over and placed the knife in Hoffner’s hand. Hoffner was now directly in front of Manstein. He knelt down and said, “You’re right, Herr Doktor.” Without so much as a nod, Hoffner plunged the blade deep into Manstein’s gut. “I do need someone to take the fall.”

Manstein’s expression was less anguish than shock. He coughed once, and Hoffner twisted the knife as he drove it higher and deeper into the flesh. He watched as the eyes searched his own for an answer, the throat choked and silent. “Very few things are inevitable, Herr Doktor.This happens to be one of them.” Hoffner held him there, waiting for the life to drain from him. Manstein’s body jerked once and became still.

Hoffner turned to Braun. The man sat cowering in disbelief as Hoffner let go of the knife and said, “Congratulations, Herr Oberkommissar.” There was nothing in Hoffner’s tone. “You’ve just caught your second carver. What a proud day it is for the Polpo.”

Braun managed to find his voice. “What have you done?”

Strangely, Hoffner felt nothing: no relief, no sense of retribution. All he noticed was a tackiness on his hand-a bit of blood that had caught between his knuckles-and he pulled out his handkerchief. “I’ve made you a hero of the Republic,” he said as he concentrated on the stain. “You’ll have to be careful how much you let out. How far you let the press dig. Otherwise, who knows what they might discover?”

Fighting to find his composure, Braun said, “And why would I do any of this?”

“Because,” came a voice from across the cavern, “you could always be a dead hero, Herr Oberkommissar.” KriminaldirektorGerhard Weigland stood just outside the opening to the tunnel. He was alone. He looked over at Pimm and said casually, “Hello, Alby.”

Pimm and the rest watched in silence as Weigland moved slowly into the cavern. It was unclear how long Weigland had been there, although he seemed unmoved by the sight of Manstein’s body. “Sorry to have missed all the festivities, Nikolai. It took a bit of time, convincing the boy to tell us where everyone had gone.”

Once again Hoffner had underestimated Weigland: the warning to stay away from the Alex had done just the opposite. Hoffner stood and said, “Not much to see, Herr Direktor.”

Weigland again peered over at Manstein. “Yes,” he said. “I can see that.” He turned to Braun. “It seems your friend Hermannsohn chose to swallow the end of his gun rather than answer any of our questions about the late Herr Fichte. Herr Tamshik showed less courage. We have him in a cell.”

Braun said defiantly, “I’ll take the gun, if it’s all the same.”

Weigland kept his eyes on Braun. “No. . I think Nikolai’s right. Alive and a hero will be far worse for you. All those eyes keeping a watch on you and your friends.” Weigland had been waiting a long time for this moment: he was making sure to enjoy it. He turned to Hoffner. “But it’s up to you, Nikolai.” Weigland glanced again at Braun, his eyes narrowing for just a moment. “Shoot him if you want.” Weigland then turned and headed out to the tunnel. “I’ll be in the square.”

Hoffner understood. It would make no difference. Weigland simply couldn’t be here to see how things came out.

The footfalls receded and Hoffner reached over and pulled the knife from Manstein’s chest. He began to wipe the blood on his handkerchief. “Shoot you,” he said, thinking for a moment and then peering directly into Braun’s eyes. “Not exactly who I am now, is it?” Hoffner stuffed the handkerchief into Braun’s breast pocket and added, “You’re about to have your picture in all the papers, Herr Oberkommissar.One day, you’ll have to tell me what that’s like.”

ROSA

Two hours later, Pimm and Hoffner stood staring out across the coal-black current that was the Landwehr Canal. The sound of lapping water against the stone made raw the already biting air. Mercifully, the rain had let up.

Pimm breathed in deeply: he had been trying to make conversation for the past half hour, to no avail. “Weigland’s no idiot,” he said; Hoffner remained silent with a cigarette. “He’ll manage it. Save his own hide. He always does.”

Hoffner nodded distantly. He knew Pimm was right: Weigland would find a way to sell it to the papers, give Berlin what she wanted: a mad doctor from Munich always brought satisfaction. And just in case Braun had missed something in the cavern, Weigland had been crystal clear back at the Alex: “You’re out from under your rock, mein Herr.And that means you can be crushed at any time. It’s going to be a very tight leash.” Deputy Minister Nepp was to serve as the reminder: news of his fatal riding accident would be reaching the back pages a few days from now.

That had left Rosa, who was now wrapped in a tarp and propped up against a tree. Pimm and Hoffner had lugged her nearly half a kilometer through thick snow and wood, and Pimm was still recovering. He coughed up something and spat. “Shall we?” he said.

Hoffner took a last drag on his cigarette, then flicked it to the ground. Without a word, he stepped over and, laying the tarp on the snow, slowly began to unroll her. He had insisted on somewhere remote, close to where she had been dropped all those weeks ago. Out in the west. This seemed as good a place as any.

“Odd, dumping her back in,” said Pimm as he knelt down to help.

Hoffner flipped her on her back. “Not so odd,” he said.

Pimm showed only a moment’s surprise at the return of Hoffner’s voice. “Yah.”

The rumors were already out there: the canal was where the mob had tossed her. More than that, Hoffner knew that the water would bloat her skin, distort the scarring, and leave her back unrecognizable. She would float up eventually-a month, maybe two-but better that than to have her off somewhere plotting her return with Herr Lenin. Rosa needed to float up so that she could be put to rest. It was the least he could do for her.

Hoffner reached into his coat and pulled out the pebble Martha had saved. He held it in his palm for a moment and then tucked it into one of Rosa’s pockets. He stood.

“All right,” he said.

Pimm brought himself up, and together they carried her to the edge of the embankment. With a nod from Hoffner, they heaved her body back and then tossed her in. The splash echoed-the patter against the wall more frantic-and then stillness. Both men stood watching as she floated out, her small face glistening in the moonlight.

Pimm’s breathing softened. “You and I aren’t all that different,” he said. “The world throws something at us, and we manage it. We don’t look too deeply. In the end, things take care of themselves.”

Hoffner continued to watch her. He wanted to believe Pimm: he wanted to find something in this that said, yes, this is where it is meant to be. He knew that the city would right itself, that the chisel murders would drift quickly into some forgotten past, that even Rosa herself-when she finally came round again-would sparkle for only a moment before being overtaken and left behind. That was Berlin’s saving grace, her incessant movement forward, her sense of promise in what was to come. Now, however, that promise seemed somehow out of reach. Too much had been lost-too much remained hidden beneath the surface-to make her future any more certain than his own.

There was a sudden swirling of water and Rosa’s legs began to dip down; her torso followed, and finally her face. In a matter of moments, she was gone. Hoffner continued to stare out at the silent water.

“We’ve managed nothing with this,” he said quietly. “Except perhaps a little time.” His eyes followed what he imagined to be her path beneath the current. “These men will come again. And when they do. . we’ll look back at Rosa and her revolution and see how nave we really were.”

The air grew static. Hoffner felt suddenly stifled by the place. He needed the east and the Berlin he still knew: somewhere there-and there alone-he would find a way to keep moving. He turned to Pimm, and together they headed into the long night.