by Simon Harrak
“He’s not to be trusted. This is all an act,” said Brunswick.
“So what do we do?”
“We have to make the most of the situation. Besides, if we don’t play along, they’ll kill us all.”
“Suppose we do play along,” said Inselheim. “It could open the gates of hell if these guys get a monopoly over the Neutralaser. The point of the technology is to nullify nuclear weapons. It’s not supposed to be a tool for tyranny.”
“We knew the risks when we started,” said Brunswick. “Plus Kalakia already has the blueprints. The tyrant has what he wants. We can’t stop now.”
“So you think we should do this?”
Inselheim realised that Brunswick had been running her tongue side to side over her bottom lip for some time, the way she did when she was dissecting the situation and analysing every possibility. She remained thinking while staring at the grass, appearing able to see deep underground. The ferocity in her eyes when she turned back to Inselheim caused him to flinch.
“Yes,” said Brunswick. “We’re going to finish what we started.”
“And if Stirner has something sinister in mind?”
“You’re underestimating us again, Michael,” said Brunswick, suddenly rising to her feet and brushing the blades of grass off her behind while looking toward the mansion. “This could be the chance of a lifetime.”
Inselheim had not noticed, but Stirner was now walking toward them.
“And?” said Stirner as he approached.
“You’ve got a deal, Mr. Stirner,” said Brunswick, reaching her hand out.
“Call me Horst,” said Stirner, shaking her hand and grimacing when he noticed how firm her grip was.
Inselheim knew that look. Brunswick’s tiny frame always put powerful men at ease until they shook hands with her. The situation troubled Inselheim, but he also felt a tinge of new life moving around inside him. They were in a terrifying situation with a dangerous new partner, but at least he and Brunswick were back together. It was enough to reassure him, to give him the faintest hope that he could still actualise his father’s life-long dream — and come out of it all alive.
10
“I can’t believe I wasn’t going to come today,” said Chi.
Ida picked up her bag with her martial arts uniform inside.
“You know when you’re lying there on the sofa, all tired and lazy,” continued Chi while folding her pants. “And then a voice in your head tells you don’t bother going to martial arts class, just stay home?”
“Oh, yes,” said Ida. “That voice is the devil.”
“I know. Once you get into a flow it’s like ‘why did I ever think that?’ I feel so pumped right now! I could fight anybody.”
Chi gave Ida a nudge.
“Let’s go. Me and you,” said Chi, getting into fight stance and grinning.
Ida remained cool, pursing her lips and lifting her head. Her and Chi were the last two people in the changing rooms.
“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” she said, exaggerating her Spanish accent, which had faded since she moved abroad.
Chi lowered her arms and tilted her head.
“Really? Every time a lover boy shows up, you fight him off.”
Ida felt a sudden sharp ache in her chest.
“That’s not true,” she said.
“Aha, whatever you say,” said Chi with a shrug.
“It’s not,” said Ida, raising her voice, her cheeks quickly warming up. She pushed Chi in the shoulder.
“Oh, so now she wants to fight!”
Ida pinched her lips tight. What did Chi mean exactly?
“Come on, lover girl,” said Chi, throwing her bag over her shoulder and chuckling to herself as she walked to the exit.
The two of them thanked their sensei and left the dojo, coming out onto the bustle of Karl-Marx-Strasse, where Ida’s bad mood followed. Chi was playfully trying to tell her something. All of the girls had made off-handed comments in the past, but for some reason it stuck this time. Ida had assumed her attitude toward men was a natural reaction to the past few months. She had seen more than enough death for a lifetime, and had begun to wake up feeling cold and empty. During the daytime she had stopped noticing the small details around her. Her sense of smell had faded. Now Chi was suggesting that she had turned away from love. They walked among a swarm of people, with Ida pondering what effect the world’s ugliness was having on her.
“Did you see the news this morning?” said Chi. “Those murders in Poznan?”
“Yes,” replied Ida, coming out of her thoughts. “I couldn’t keep reading. It was terrible.”
“There were children in that building. How could anybody mutilate somebody like that in public? Do you think it has anything to do with what people talk about on the internet? That secret organisation which exists but doesn’t exist?”
“I don’t know,” said Ida while an uneasy feeling seeped in.
“Ida?” came a woman’s voice cutting through the crowd from behind.
Ida and Chi slowed down and turned in unison to find the lady from the flea market, who had halted her walk and had her body half turned. She looked stunning, Ida noticed, wearing a cream-coloured designer coat, a white blouse with no bra, black satin trousers and black stilettos. Her make-up was flawless, her shade of lipstick complimenting her face perfectly. She did not belong in Neukölln, where most people stuck with tattered vintage clothing and black streetwear and sneakers.
“Hi,” stuttered Ida, blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I remember your name.”
The woman smiled and turned to face her.
“I don’t think I told you my name. I’m Tina,” she said, leaning forward and offering her hand. Her grip was firm.
“Nice to meet you,” said Ida. She then turned to Chi. “This is my friend Chi,” she added.
“Yes, I remember you from the market. Nice to meet you, Chi,” said Tina in a professional manner while shaking Chi’s hand.
“Likewise,” said Chi after a short hesitation.
Tina smiled warmly at Chi then turned back to Ida.
“It’s funny I run into you just before I fly back to Paris. I was thinking about you this morning. Those friends I told about you, I showed one of them your work. He loved it. He’s actually a scout for the major labels, and he thinks you’ve got some potential. If you… I know this is out of the blue, but would you be interested in meeting him this week?”
“Uh,” said Ida, shrugging and turning toward Chi. “I don’t know.”
Chi said nothing, only stared back at Ida with a blank expression.
“I know it’s unexpected, but he was genuinely impressed. Anyway, he’ll be in Paris with me for the week before I have to go back to Stockholm. Here.” Tina took a business card out of her pocket and handed it to Ida. “Think about it and let me know. We can fly you out and cover your expenses. I don’t think it would hurt to listen to what he has to say. Could be a great opportunity to learn about the industry.”
“Ok,” said Ida, wide-eyed. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
“Great,” said Tina with a nod and a smile. “It was nice to see you. Chi, a pleasure to meet you too.”
Tina shook hands with Ida and Chi then marched away down the street, catching numerous glances from the Berliners around her.
Ida turned to Chi with a slack mouth. Someone from the fashion industry wanted to speak to her?
“You’re not going, are you?” said Chi abruptly.
“What?” said Ida, tilting her head. “You don’t think I should go?”
“People like her are one of the reasons I wanted to leave the States. All they care about is money. Those soulless companies bait you with success, then they suck you dry. It’s ugly.”
Ida crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her other leg.
“That’s business, no?” she said.
“I don’t trust her,” said Chi.
“Why not?” said Ida as her pulse quickened.
Ida’s jaw grew tense.
“I can take care of myself, you know?” she said.
Chi sighed and looked away down the street.
“You’re going to regret it,” she said. “You’re on a good thing already. You should stick with it instead of looking for shortcuts.”
Chi was getting on Ida’s nerves. Who does she think she is?
“Why are you being like this?” said Ida.
“Like what?” said Chi. “Also, don’t you have work at the cafe tomorrow and Friday?”
“I’ll tell them I can’t come in. I can’t pass up this opportunity.”
“If you say so,” said Chi.
Ida could not bear to hear anymore.
“Look, I need to go,” she said. “I forgot I have to pick up my jacket from the dry cleaner. I’ll see you later.”
Ida stormed off, immediately getting caught behind a group of three people sauntering side by side and blocking the footpath. She moved to the edge of the gutter and forced her way around, grunting as she brushed a man on the way past. She stomped forward without a destination, embarrassed by her retreat but also infuriated with Chi. Ida never thought Chi would be the jealous type. I guess you never really know people, she figured, speeding up her march to nowhere.
Frederich shoved his wet pants and underwear into his bag and tossed it onto the back seat. He stood out in the open for a moment, his head freezing over and goosebumps covering his arms from the breeze. The thought hit him to check in with Intel. He got into the driver’s seat and picked up his phone.
“Abel,” said Gerricks immediately upon answering.
“Gerricks.”
“What’s your status?”
“I’m still in Poland. I needed to take a short detour.”
“You still haven’t made it out of the country? Do you know the shit storm you created?”
“I blacked out.”
“You what? Shit. Ok, listen. The Polish police know you’re with us. They won’t give you trouble. They’re glad the Berlin bomber’s dead, but they’re pissed about the mess you left behind. But whatever, it’s what Scheffler wanted. I probably don’t need to tell you how happy he is with your work.”
“What’s the media saying?” asked Frederich.
“Nothing yet. They know what to report. Vigilante killing. Nobody’s going to grieve when they find out Drexler was the one you hacked up.”
“Ok,” said Frederich, numb to the significance of Gerricks’ words.
“Also, we need you to get to London straight away. We’re pushing forward with the counter-assault in two days,” said Gerricks. “I’ve got the brief for your next mission. We want you to take out five marks in one go. Can you handle that many?”
“Send it through,” said Frederich.
“Roger that. There’s a jet waiting in Brandenburg to take you straight there.”
“Ok.”
“Need anything in the meantime?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Good luck,” said Gerricks and hung up.
Frederich turned the car on and put it into gear. No point brooding about what happened in Poznan, he thought. Drexler got what was coming to him. It would be better for Frederich to focus his energy on his new mission. Next time just keep it together.
He pulled out onto the road and sped off, figuring he should tank up soon. A short while later, he turned his head and listened carefully to the constant wail behind him. He checked his rearview mirror and saw the blinking lights. The sound of the siren grew louder. Police. Gerricks said they understood the situation? There was no one around beside Frederich. The sirens were definitely for him. The police car raced toward him from behind before switching lanes and driving alongside him. The police officer behind the wheel, a fresh-faced young man with a prominent jawline, signalled for Frederich to pull over. Frederich continued along for a while, thinking hard, before finally planting his foot on the accelerator. Plan A would be to outrun him. Something in the guy’s eyes was unsettling. Why had he come after Frederich alone?
A small gap opened between them when Frederich sped up, which the rogue policeman quickly reeled in. Frederich’s three cylinders were not going to be enough to outrun the police car, especially in open country. He followed the road with the policeman inches behind him, the siren still blaring. The trail ended ahead at a T-intersection, and Frederich spun the wheel right without slowing down, shooting across the dirt before returning to the bitumen. He learnt his first lesson about his pursuer; he was not a skilled driver. The policeman’s back wheels spun out of control while trying to emulate Frederich’s turn, which forced him to a stand-still. He made up the distance quickly, and they were back where they had begun, the police car’s nose right on Frederich’s tail. Frederich looked to his passenger seat and caught a glimpse of Plan B; his pistol. He knew he would win a shoot-out. No doubt about it. He would bet his life on it. Don’t, came Kraas’ voice. No killing police officers. Frederich agreed that he had to draw the line somewhere. Kraas was a firm believer in respecting members of the law, except in cases of corruption. Frederich was in the wrong after what he had done; according to the law, at least.
The policeman pulled up level in the opposite lane. Without warning, he steered toward Frederich’s car. Frederich reacted quickly, jerking his wheel to get out of the way, half of his car going onto the dirt. He veered back onto the road, wondering if he should make an exception for his no killing cops rule. He looked through the police car’s window and saw the policeman furiously yelling in his direction. The guy was unhinged. It was time to get creative. Frederich slammed the brakes and turned the wheel at the same time. The movies had made it look easy. In Frederich’s case he spun terribly out of control onto the grass, his car coming close to tipping over. His heart was revving as quickly as the engine.
He took a deep breath and slammed the accelerator again. He was already on the grass, so he continued off-road. His wheels spun in place before his car jerked forward. All he saw at first in the rearview mirror was mud flying in the air, before the police car appeared again and followed him onto the field. To his right was a long fence with a herd of cows on the other side, to his left was a forest in the far distance. He went left. What’s the plan? He had opened up another gap, which meant he had a short time window to get himself into position. He pulled up with his car parallel to the forest and the driver’s side facing the trees. He grasped his pistol and forced the door open, flicked off the safety and pointed the gun in the direction of the approaching police car. No more games. This guy was going to learn to behave himself, or he was going to get a bullet in the skull.
The police car pulled up twenty feet away. Frederich waited. His engine crackled from the heat, his breath was shallow and quick. There was no sign of movement ahead. The glare of the sun on the police car’s windshield blocked Frederich’s sight. After a long pause, the driver’s door flung open. The policeman got out and emerged into the open, pointing his pistol forward with both hands. Brave man. He was small-statured with straight posture you only see in the military or the police.
“Put the gun down, you bastard!” he screamed.
Frederich knew that if he was going to shoot, he had best do it immediately. He tightened his finger around the trigger.
“Do you know what you did!?” screamed the policeman. His face was flushed bright red, his eyes forced unnaturally open. Frederich could see the whites from where he was. “There were children there! What kind of animal are you?”
A wave of lightheadedness hit Frederich and spun his head backwards. His grip around the pistol began to loosen involuntarily. Children? He remembered the woman who entered the building with her two boys. He had barely given them a second thought. Had they seen something?
“You call yourselves honourable?” the policeman continued. “Is that what justice looks like?”
; Frederich’s mind turned blank. He hesitated for a long time while the pistol grew heavy in his hand. Finally, he let it go, leaving it on the roof and emerging from behind the car empty-handed. The policeman ran forward quickly and pressed the barrel of his gun against Frederich’s chest. Frederich could feel the policeman’s hands shaking with fury. He kept his arms at his side and remained calm. Too calm. He felt something leave him, and in its place the shadow descended on him like a thick fog.
“What about the children?” he said.
The policeman hesitated.
“What happened after I left?” said Frederich.
“The tear gas,” said the policeman. “The family on the floor above believed it was a fire. They ran down the stairs. To escape. They saw…” The policeman faltered. His lips began trembling, his eyes filled with tears. His arms were shaking uncontrollably.
Frederich did not need to hear the rest. He pushed his chest into the barrel of the gun and looked directly into the policeman’s eyes.
“Shoot,” he said. “End this now.”
The policeman’s eyes opened wider still, his mouth falling completely open. He looked as though he were staring directly into the gates of hell, witnessing a sight so horrible that he could not possibly fathom it. It was not hell, thought Frederich, but it was close.
“Pull the trigger,” said Frederich. “You have to.”
He closed his eyes and waited, focussed into the abyss and asked it to welcome him in. It was as good a time as any. He did not want to know anything more about what the policeman had experienced, or what those young boys had seen. Whatever happened, it was horrific, and he had caused it. He deserved this.
The barrel fell off his chest. He heard a sob, followed by a long silence, then another sob. He opened his eyes. The policeman was crouched down on the ground, the gun held limp at his side while he cried into the ground. He let out a long groan, then began screaming, lifting his head to the sky with his voice booming across the field. Frederich watched on, not knowing what to do. The policeman’s sobbing eventually settled into a soft whimper while he pressed his face into the dirt.
Frederich’s hand reached out by itself to touch the man, before he turned suddenly and went back to his car. He snatched his pistol off the roof and got in and switched on the engine. The policeman had still not moved. Frederich put the car into gear and drove off without looking back.