Private Berlin (Private 5)

Burkhart said, “So Chris investigates, finds out it’s true, that Falk’s alive. He tracks Falk down, and follows him to the slaughterhouse.”

“And Falk kills him,” Mattie said dully, feeling the haunted space in her own heart growing with every tortured beat.

CHAPTER 89

MY FRIENDS, MY fellow Berliners, at this moment I’m sitting behind the wheel and tinted windows of my old Trabant 601 sedan.

Do you know the Trabant? The worker’s car?

No matter. My well-maintained Trabi is parked on Amsterdamer Strasse south of Ilona Frei’s apartment building. I’ve been here almost half an hour and I’m starting to shiver in my sweaty clothes.

No police, I think. That’s good. A neighbor was probably in the hallwa

y when I was on the fire escape, heard her scream, and…

I suddenly want to break something. No, I want to shatter it. No, pulverize it into dust.

My friends, Mattie Engel and Tom Burkhart just came out the front door of the apartment building, and they’re flanking Ilona Frei.

They walk away from me heading north and instantly my confidence feels like it’s suffered a thousand razor cuts.

Has she talked? Will they believe her?

No, no, I tell myself. Ilona Frei is certifiably insane. The state says so. She hears voices. She has other personalities. She’s a registered opiate freak, for God’s sake.

Even so, there’s an impulse shooting through me right now that wants to start the Trabi, haul ass down the street, and shoot them all dead, right there on the sidewalk or in that BMW they’re climbing into.

A moment later, they pull out, still heading north.

I wait a few moments, cool down, and ultimately decide not to follow them.

I think I know where they might end up eventually tonight.

I’ll go there. I’ll be invisible.

I’ll wait for my chance to strike.

CHAPTER 90

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Mattie walked up to her own apartment door. Ilona Frei shuffled along uncertainly behind her with Burkhart bringing up the rear.

As she fumbled for her keys, the odor of sautéed onions and meat came to her. So did Niklas’s voice as he chattered to Aunt C about the possibility of Hertha Berlin and Cassiano becoming champions of the second division.

“You don’t want someone like me staying with your family,” Ilona Frei said somberly. “Especially if you’ve got kids. I might…”

“You might be surprised,” Mattie said. “In any case, you’re not staying anywhere else until this is over.”

“I need my meds in the morning,” Ilona said, scratching at her arms.

“We can arrange that,” Mattie said, and she unlocked and opened her door.

Ilona Frei followed Mattie into the apartment in a slow trudge. Burkhart closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolts.

As Mattie knew she would, her aunt Cäcilia welcomed Ilona Frei like an old friend caught in a storm. “Have you eaten?” she asked.

“Smells real good,” Burkhart said, sniffing the air as Ilona shook her head.

“It was good, Tom,” Niklas announced after hugging his mother hello.