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No panic, my friends. It’s not in me. I’m a Berliner. I know how to defend my ground. The trick here is to be smarter than the dogs, to go to water if need be, to double back, or better yet to make a move they’re totally not expecting.
Double back, I think again. Make a move that will floor them.
Suddenly, the green fairy tosses up an idea from deep in my subconscious.
I grab it, and consider it like a gift.
A treasured gift.
I smile. How perfect.
Yes, I think at last, this particular option is the best way to handle the situation once and for all. How goddamn perfect!
I set the glass of absinthe down and cross to a laptop on my desk. I reattach Chris Schneider’s hard drive and call up the pictures.
I scroll down, looking for the one I want.
Ahhh, there it is.
I double click the icon and up pops a photograph of Mattie Engel’s son. Niklas is on one knee, soccer ball in hand, shooting the camera an impish grin.
What a lovely little boy, my friends, my fellow Berliners. Quite captivating.
I’ll bet he’s the apple of his mother’s eye.
CHAPTER 94
MATTIE WOKE UP to the smell of bacon frying and coffee brewing. She actually felt rested for the first time since getting word of Chris’s disappearance.
But then she thought of High Commissar Dietrich. Why was he being so obstinate in his pursuit of Hermann Krüger? Was he getting pressure from above because of her status? Or was he just a man in grief, trying to put one easy step in front of another for fear of falling?
Rather than stew any further, she took a quick shower, got dressed, and went out to find Niklas at the breakfast counter. He was already dressed for school. An empty plate and juice glass sat on the counter in front of him.
Aunt C was nowhere to be seen. But Burkhart was at the stove, working a wooden spoon in a cast-iron skillet.
“He’s making his specialty,” Niklas informed her. “Eggs Burkhart.”
“The one and only,” Burkhart said. “Want more?”
“I have to go to school,” Niklas said.
“Mattie?”
“When I get back,” she said. “I like to walk him.”
It was a chill, blustery day, and Niklas’s hands got too red and cold for her to hold as they walked.
“I like Tom,” Niklas said. “He doesn’t treat you like you’re a kid.”
“Is that right?”
“He said I knew more about soccer than most adults.”
“Well, that’s true,” Mattie said and mussed his hair.
“Mom,” Niklas groaned, “I just combed it.”
“For who? For me? Or is there another lady in your life?”
