“Frederich!” Ida’s voice came through the speaker along with the sound of street traffic.
“Ida! Are you ok?”
“I am now. I don’t know where I’m going. I think I lost them.”
Her heavy breathing made it difficult to understand her, and he could barely hear her voice over the background noise.
“Lost who? What happened?”
“They came for me, Frederich. They broke in. I fought one of them, and I jumped out of the window. How did they know where you live!?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I underestimated them. Ida, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Frederich. Just stay safe. Please.”
“I will. Listen, meet me at th—” He stopped and looked down at his ankle. Tracking device. Kalakia would have been furious to find out that Ida had slipped through his fingers.
“Frederich? Hello?”
“Ida, I can’t come out to meet you yet.”
“What! Why not?” she yelled.
“They’re tracking me. They’re probably listening to this conversation. Do you know where you can hide for the time being?”
“No, I don’t know. I don’t even know where I am. Frederich, please come.”
“If I come now, you’ll be in danger again. Stop running for a second, take a deep breath and think.”
For a time he could hear only the sound of traffic.
“Ok, I know someone,” she said.
“Good. Don’t make any phone calls or use the internet. Just go straight there and stay there.”
“Ok. I’ll go now.”
“You’re sure you’re not being followed?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“Ok. I’ll call you when it’s safe.”
“Ok.”
Frederich let his head fall back as he looked up at the sky in relief, causing the cut on his neck to throb with pain. When he winced and straightened up, he caught sight of a woman staring at his bloody neck before she turned away. He would have to take care of the wound first, he thought.
He studied the train platform. There was a group of teenagers assembled in a circle, as well as a couple in their 60s patiently waiting at the edge of the platform. It seemed like nobody was trailing him, but he could not be sure. He could not be certain of anything. He turned and looked out over the hill and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He allowed himself to grin openly with pride. Ida had fought back, and she had escaped.
He steeled himself again. His relief would have to be short-lived. Kalakia might have eyes where he least expected, and in less than nine hours, he would be locked in a game of cat and mouse with that psychopath, Vivar. He had told Ida they would see each other soon. That would not happen unless he was focused and prepared.
He considered the facts and variables. The battle would be in an inner city park littered with low-density forest, which made it challenging to maintain cover. It would be dark but well lit in the open spaces, and he had to expect there would still be people there in the middle of the night. Because of his ankle bracelet, he had to stay on the move, which would make him more vulnerable than Vivar, who could stalk him from a distance. He would also be tracked, but he had to hope that Kalakia would keep his word and not relay his location. One option was to stand in an open, exposed area and challenge Vivar to a fight — man to man. But that would leave him vulnerable to a gun, and it would attract unwanted attention. It would also cost him his only real advantage; as long as Vivar was in hunting mode, he would be on a string, and Frederich had a chance to influence the outcome. No, an open fight would not work. Frederich had to lure in his hunter while remaining on the move — without being recognised. For that, he would need a damn good camouflage. He went about making his preparations.
It was 11:32 pm. Frederich sat in the S1 headed north toward the Brandenburg Gate. A lady approached and offered him a 1 euro coin. Her concerned eyes and warm smile assured him that everything would be fine. At first, he waved it off, but she insisted.
“Bitte,” she said. Please.
He accepted her offering and thanked her with a humble nod. If anything, he felt validated that his disguise would work.
The journey to finding his camouflage began when he had taken the underground to Neukölln and went straight to a pharmacy to buy a bandage and tape for his neck. He then visited some used clothing and vintage stores and picked out the most ragged pieces he could find. To widen his body, he had on three pairs of pants with old, dark brown corduroys on the outside. He was also wearing a black hooded jumper and a thick, soiled, dark grey trench coat. He covered his head with a light grey beanie and wore an old, tattered pair of hiking boots which he packed when he left Tallinn. His nails, hands and face had dirt carelessly rubbed into them. In his left hand he carried a bottle of beer containing tap water, and between his legs was an Ikea bag filled with random bits of the cheapest clothing he could find. He also had a small torch in his pocket. Beneath his jacket seam, in a large pocket, sat his fully loaded pistol.
The train stopped at Brandenburg Gate station, where he disembarked and made for the escalator. He stumbled forward with purposeful steps, appearing oblivious to the commuters who overtook him one by one. He progressed slowly and ascended the stairs
