“That’s what I believe, yes,” Hofmann confirmed. “It’s why Ivan had to buy guns from a two-bit player like Rebanks – because the last thing he wanted was for his father to find out.”
“So
“I think that Gregor only discovered his son was missing shortly before he paid Major Gilby a visit. That is why he is willing to do a trade – to put right what Ivan’s done. He’s been clearing up after him since the boy was seven.”
“Ivan is Gregor’s weakness,” Sean said. “He’ll be his downfall.”
“I agree, and I have told Major Konig in the past that we should concentrate our efforts in that direction,” Hofmann said. He sat back in his seat, so that his voice became disembodied in the gloom. “It is just unfortunate that she’s chosen this moment in time to decide to listen to me.”
***
We romped on northwards through Germany, only stopping briefly to satisfy the Skyline’s voracious thirst for high-octane petrol. The normally generous seventy-litre fuel tank was diminished by the severely reduced fuel economy of running at these speeds. We were forced to stop every hundred and thirty miles or so.
The kilometre countdown signs for Bayreuth came and went, and then we were heading for Leipzig and I, too, began to allow the faint hope to form that we might just make it.
I asked Hofmann another question over my shoulder, but there was no answer. When I squirmed round in my seat I found the big German had lolled his head back against the side glass, his jaw hanging slackly. Unbelievably, he’d gone to sleep.
“It’s nice to see someone’s relaxed,” I said quietly to Sean. I jerked my head. “Hofmann’s spark out.”
“You can tell he’s been a soldier,” he said. He smiled. “You might want to grab some kip now yourself. You never know when you’ll get the opportunity again.”
“I’m OK,” I said, “and I’d rather stay awake.”
As I said the words it struck me how frightened I should have been feeling. I did a quick mental search, just in case a huge example of classic denial of the situation was sitting lurking in the back of my mind, but found nothing. I was keyed up, yes. My stomach was clenched tight like I’d done a rake of Todd’s sit-ups, but there was no panic there.
I’d been in action with Sean before, stared death in the face and been terrified. But not for myself, I realised.
For him.
“I’m sorry, Charlie,” Sean said suddenly and for a moment I frowned at him, backtracking to try and work out an immediate reason for him to be apologising to me. It took a moment to register that there wasn’t one. So we were back to that confrontation we’d had outside the Manor. It seemed so long ago I could barely remember what had been said. Maybe that was my denial.
As the Skyline motored on Sean kept his eyes on the road, almost fixed to the vanishing point ahead of him. “I don’t know what I can say or do to change things,” he went on, his voice low and tense. “I wish to God I could!”
“I don’t want you to do or say anything, Sean,” I said, surprised at how calm I sounded, how perfectly reasonable. “I know you weren’t the cause of any of it, but that doesn’t change what happened.”
I paused, tried to put some kind of order to my jumbled thoughts. “When you look at me,” I came out with, “all I want is for you to still see
For a few seconds he didn’t answer and the heavy frown was back. “You’re asking me to pretend it never happened,” he said, neutral and cautious. “Is that it?”
I sighed. “No,” I said. I stared out of the darkened glass of the side window, aware only of the flash of the passing road markers like a continuous stream of stars in hyperdrive and the morbid pulse of my thoughts. I turned back to Sean. His face was set.
“I’m just asking you to accept that it did, but underneath, inside, I’m still me,” I said. “A bit ragged at the edges, maybe, but still me.”
There was a long stretch of silent deliberation then he said, at last, “I’ll try and remember that.” He smiled, but it was a sad, tired smile. “There is no instant rewind button in life, is there?”
“No, I guess not,” I said, shrugging, trying to smile myself although there was a sudden taste in the back of my mouth that was hot and bitter, like smoke.
If there was I’d go back and edit out a whole heap of things. But the time I’d spent with Sean, I realised, would not be one of them.
***
We stopped for fuel again just outside Dessau at a little after 2:15 am.
As we slowed for the exit I reached awkwardly behind me to tap Hofmann’s leg to warn him. By chance my hand landed on his solid calf just above the top of his combat boot. My fingers grazed across something, but at that moment he jerked awake, shifted his position.
“What is it?”
“We’re stopping to fill up,” I said over my shoulder. “If you need a break of any description, speak now.”
He nodded. “I will stretch my legs,” he said.
I watched him pace away across the filling station forecourt, rolling his neck and swinging his arms to ease the constrictions out of his considerable muscles. I moved round to stand with Sean, leaning carefully against the dirt-streaked rear wing of the Nissan. Sean had left the engine running, to try and save the turbos from self- destructing. It hummed now under my hip.
“You do realise that Hofmann’s carrying a knife, don’t you?” I murmured, low enough for the German not to overhear.
Sean’s eyes flicked sharply to Hofmann, but he didn’t look surprised. “Where?”
“Top of his right boot.”
Sean nodded. “OK,” he said. “Leave it for the moment, but just be ready for him if he tries anything.”
I shivered, and not just at the wind that whipped between the pumps. “That’s easy for you to say,” I muttered. “You’re not the one who’s got him sitting right behind you.”
I’d faced knives before and had the scars to prove it, but the prospect of taking on someone with the kind of military training Hofmann had been through took it up to another level altogether. He’d been an elite soldier. If he was planning to double-cross us, the chances were I wouldn’t see the knife until it was hilt-deep in my throat.
***
After Dessau we crossed the river Elbe and then Berlin was suddenly within our grasp. I was used to distances unfolding in miles, rather than kilometres. That, combined with the sheer speed we were travelling, made the city seem to be actively rushing forward to meet us.
Once we reached the outskirts, Sean slowed to a less obtrusive pace. It was raining steadily here and the road surface sparkled in the dance of the lights.
The Alpine directed us to the street we’d asked for, then Sean switched off the unit, folding the screen back into the dashboard, and relied on Hofmann’s instructions from the back seat. It was almost 4:00 am, and the run- down residential district he took us into was so quiet it could have been under curfew.
Hofmann guided us without any hesitation. I wanted to trust him, but when we finally pulled up in the gloomy shadow of a dilapidated apartment block, I couldn’t help the feeling that this could all be one hell of an elaborate trap.
Sean left the engine ticking over to cool down while he twisted in his seat. “OK, what are we likely to be facing here?”
I glanced at him. He’d driven nearly four hundred miles at the kind of speeds that would have challenged a Le Mans racer, but somehow he was still alert, on his toes.
“If we are lucky, and Jan is
The “we” in that last remark really brought it home to me what we were expecting of Hofmann. That we
