16
If only the flight were longer, thought Frederich. By the time they hit maximum altitude, it would be time to straighten up chairs and prepare for the descent into Zürich. There was a great deal to process in that time. In barely a week, Frederich had twice come within inches of death, had killed two men, made and lost a friend, penetrated the most powerful organisation in the world and had undergone a strange transformation.
After Ida had stormed off, there was time only for logistics. Frederich did what came naturally and pushed his feelings away, instead busying himself with preparations for the trip. He expected to come back to Berlin, so he set up the auto-payment of his rent with the bank. He shut off the heating and finally got around to labelling his mailbox with ‘No Junk Mail ’ to avoid having it overstuffed with catalogues and newspapers. He disinfected the shovel and returned it to the basement cleaner than when he had taken it. After scrubbing long and hard over a bloodstain left behind in the trunk by Vivar’s body, he decided to cut that piece of the carpet out before returning the Renault to the rental company in Mitte. They had his credit card details. Night came, and he packed his rucksack with the necessities then managed to get a few hours of sleep before it was time for the early morning flight.
Now that he had stowed his bag and taken his seat, his mind began to drift. Ida ruled his thoughts initially. He wondered where she was and whether she had already fled Berlin. He would understand if she wanted to leave that chapter of her life behind. He felt an ache in his chest, a call from the depths of him which he had no way to answer. It was familiar by now. It appeared the first time during the weeks following Kraas’ death. He missed Ida.
He questioned whether she would ever forgive him. It was wishful thinking, he figured, judging by their last encounter. Not even Kraas had been able to forgive what was inside Frederich. Things changed between him and Kraas after he slaughtered the would-be assassin in the forest. They stopped training together, and Kraas began pushing the idea of Frederich moving to Tallinn. Kraas appeared to Frederich to be sad and distracted, guilty almost. He said it was time for Frederich to live a normal life. Frederich grew confused. He knew he was not normal. Not even his upbringing had been normal. How did Kraas expect him to live like the rest of the population? Kraas’ decision had hurt, but Frederich swallowed it. Nobody could bring themselves to discuss what had happened. That night remained unspoken about, and Frederich did as Kraas told him; he went to Tallinn. He lived a ‘normal’ life, whatever that was. In any case, a normal life was out of the question now. Frederich was preparing for a career as a killer.
It had evolved quickly. Ida’s scream. Suffocating underwater. Putting Khartoum to sleep. The Kalakia meeting. Vivar’s failed attempt at revenge. Those events strung together had been a revelation. They showed Frederich who he was, that the first man he killed would not be an isolated incident. Not only did Frederich intend to kill again, he expected to enjoy it. What would Kraas think? It no longer mattered. Kraas was gone. Frederich had to accept that. He would have to make his own decisions now. Khartoum and Vivar... they deserved to die. The men he would kill in the future? For the right cause, sure, why not. Corruption was a sickness of the Earth. He knew Kraas would agree with him on that point. He had felt that way since he was a boy, as Kraas slowly revealed to him the state of the world around him. He also sensed, in a strange way, that Kraas had been preparing him for this moment his whole life.
The flight attendants passed through the aisle and prepared each passenger for landing. Seats up and seat belts on, they ordered. Frederich shook himself out of his daydream. The time for reflecting was over. He took a deep breath and focussed inside. The void was there. It brought him both calm and strength — and rage. He realised that his shadow was no longer something to run from. He was now entering a world where, far from having to conceal his savageness, he could channel and unleash it. The discipline to contain it would come in time, and the lessons Kraas had taught him would be indispensable. Regardless of what challenges he faced during his training and beyond, he resolved to let nothing — and no one — get in his way.
It was 2:48 pm at Zürich Airport, 3 minutes until landing, and the man known as Scheffler was at the arrivals gate. While a sea of people shifted around him and chatted excitedly amongst each other with wide-eyes, Scheffler remained steadfast in place like a rock. He watched on as a middle-aged businesswoman marched through the gate with purpose, her leather bag in hand, followed by a young, blonde girl with a ponytail who shrieked excitedly at the sight of her waiting friend and sprinted forward, leaving her luggage behind.
Why Scheffler was taking time away from important work to pick up a potential recruit named ‘Frederich Abel’ was beyond him. He only knew that Kalakia was insisting he pick the boy up from the airport personally, and that he would be the one to overlook the boy’s training. It pissed him off to have to drop everything to run an errand. His time was better spent back at the facility. But then again, everything pissed him off these days. Now that he was four weeks into his latest steroid cycle, his trenbolone levels were through the roof. A
