Ida was barely breathing now, and was stuffing the clothes into the boxes with too much force. She slammed the box shut, fighting with the flaps, then picked it up and thrust it onto the pile with a thump, causing Chi to give her a long, questioning stare. Ida giggled suddenly. It felt good to be angry, to let off some steam. If Vidrik showed up, she would let him have some of it.
Maybe violence was the answer, she thought. Well, sometimes, anyway. It had to have been put there for a reason in any case.
7
Somewhere behind that arched, stained antique door was Havel Drexler; the terrorist behind the Berlin Bombing.
Frederich stood in the middle of the quaint, cobbled street in the old town of Poznan while a stream of pedestrians casually worked their way around him. He was expecting a bright idea to come, a way to flush Drexler out or to get him into a position to make the kill. It was a chilly, overcast day, and Frederich zipped up his thick, black parka jacket. Tucked inside were his pistol and hunting knife, as well as two tear gas grenades. He lingered for a while, then figured there were better places to wait for inspiration to hit. Standing there was inviting Drexler to spot him out. The solution would come to him soon enough. It always did.
He went over to a cafe forty feet away across the street. While waiting for his espresso, he checked his smartphone for updates from Intel. There was nothing. Instead, he started flicking through Drexler’s photos. The headshot showed a man with unsympathetic eyes, flushed skin and puffy cheeks. Another snap had a younger, fitter Drexler in military uniform standing in a dusty, African town with a Heckler & Koch held across his torso and the same grim stare. Whichever way Frederich decided to proceed, he could expect to meet someone with ample experience in weaponry and explosives, as well as the readiness to use them at any moment day or night.
The espresso came, and Frederich took a sip while turning his attention to the apartment block. It was a two-storey building, so he was not surprised at the lack of movement coming in or out. He settled in for the afternoon, eventually ordering another espresso, and remained watching the street. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred, except when a blonde woman left the building and came back with two young boys below the age of ten. She tussled with her keys as the boys chased each other in circles before they all went inside. Maybe it was the caffeine, or perhaps the pent up agitation from the bombing, but eventually Frederich felt the urge to act. Kraas’ voice of reason popped into his head: It’s too risky to go inside. Wait. The opening will come. Frederich dismissed the idea. Enough was enough. It was time to take a closer look.
‘David Anders’ paid with his credit card then left the cafe. He stood some distance from the front door and tried to look uninterested, stealing the occasional glance of the building. 3:45 pm. The workday was finishing, meaning somebody would have to come in or out. The door remained shut for some time further. Finally, a tall, dark-haired woman with a light grey trench coat and high heels shoes slowed down in front of the door while searching inside her hand-bag. Frederich braced himself, taking a step in her direction, before the woman took out her lighter and lit a cigarette. Frederich relaxed again, somewhat disappointed, then the door suddenly swung open from the inside, giving him a jolt. He scrambled forward and caught the door at the same time a man with dark cornrows and tattoo-covered neck stormed out. The man slowed down when he noticed Frederich, and the two of them locked eyes. The chances of the man being with Drexler were high, but Frederich had to be careful not to give himself away. He smiled at the man with a nod and continued inside. He immediately reached into the seam of his jacket and grasped his pistol as the door slammed shut behind him. He took the safety off. Each second felt like five, and his ears remained trained at the door. The occasional playful yell or laugh came from outside along with the sound of people shuffling by. The door remained shut, and as more time passed, the sense of danger gradually died away. Frederich flicked the safety back on. His breathing returned to normal. He knew he would look harmless enough to the man. With such a small building he would have at least roused the man’s suspicion, so better to be cautious than dead. He turned his attention back to the task of finding Drexler.
The lobby was brightly lit from the back by a stained window decorated with detailed floral patterns of yellow, red, purple and green.
