Private Berlin (Private 5)

Bremen, the general manager, replied, “It’s not a matter of belief, Cassiano. We need proof you’re not involved.”

After Brecht told Cassiano so in Portuguese, the Brazilian began to shout again indignantly.

“How can I do this?” Brecht translated. “My wife is a whore and I am the victim of rumors. How can I prove that I am clean?”

“Tell him to give us a hair sample,” Morgan said. “Private will take care of the rest.”

CHAPTER 68

“MOMMY!” NIKLAS CRIED when Mattie opened the door to the apartment.

Her son was in his pajamas and ran to her.

She took him up in her arms, scolding, “What are you doing up so late?”

Aunt Cäcilia came behind her wearing her robe and curlers. “He wouldn’t listen. He’s been a crazy man, bouncing off the walls since that game ended, wanting to wait up and tell you all about it.”

“Cassiano was unbelievable!” Niklas exulted. “He scored three. Three!”

Burkhart appeared in the doorway looking somewhat awkward.

Mattie smiled. “Niklas, Aunt C, this is Herr Burkhart. He works at Private too.”

Aunt Cäcilia blushed, pulled her robe tighter, and complained, “Ohhh, Mattie, I didn’t know you were bringing company home.”

“He drove me home and we both realized we were starving.”

That broke whatever spell Burkhart’s arrival had held over her aunt, who turned and bustled toward the kitchen. “I have cold sausages, potato pancakes, and homemade applesauce. And cold beer. Give me just a minute!”

“Say hello, Niklas,” Mattie said, setting down her son, who appeared shy.

Burkhart crouched and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Niklas.”

Niklas hesitated and then shook it, saying, “You’re big.”

“I know. You will be too someday.”

“Am I gonna lose my hair too?”

“Niklas!” Mattie scolded.

But Burkhart just laughed. “Being bald has nothing to do with being big, Niklas. Being bald is a state of mind.”

Mattie grinned. The tension of the day faded toward exhaustion. “I’ve got to get him to bed.”

“Sure,” Burkhart said. “Maybe I better go?”

“No, no, my aunt would not hear of it. Someone going hungry is a major injustice with her.”

“I heard that!” Aunt Cäcilia shouted from the kitchen.

Mattie put her hand on Niklas’s shoulder and said, “Say good night.”

“Good night, Herr Burkhart,” Niklas said.

“You can call me Tom.”

Niklas grinned and took his mother’s hand and they went to his room. She tucked him into bed.