The sky continued to lighten. Spikes of bruised purple scudded across the blue. Soon the whole city would be awake. Another Berlin day. A day like any other.
His eyes were drawn to a pair of small birds skipping through the sky. They darted this way and that. Their twittering song sounded sharp and shrill in the still morning air.
The city, the world, the morning — all were coming alive. A motorbike grunted beyond the walls of the station. A group of people climbed the stairs and their voices echoed across the platform. Two birds came to rest on a wire and considered him with their dark eyes. Maybe they were leaving the city soon too, heading south perhaps. Bouncing from the wire, they pounded into the still air. It would be a duller city without them.
The rails began to snap and ring. A train was coming.
Alles aussteigen bitte, Endstation – all change.
The doors of the bright yellow train hissed open, and a dozen sleepy passengers tumbled out. The Russian got on, and he followed. They stood at opposite ends of the same car. Waiting for departure, he found himself examining the dark wooden veneer of the train’s interior, embellished by the scrawls of many years. He wanted to drink in the details. Save them for some future time. Trains like this were a piece of the city. They were as important as the Brandenburg Gate or the Love Parade. They were a part of the place, the very fabric of it, just like he had been.
As the train pulled from the station, a realisation struck him. This city had been his home for the last five years. But after tonight it was all over. He may never see the city again. It was sad, but there was no other way. He had to get out. He had to go.
He watched the shimmering water through the window as they crossed the river. The lights of some modern boxy office buildings built on the sites of East German warehouses glowed ethereally. Above it all, the spire of the Berliner Fernsehturm — the Television Tower — clawed the sky.
For a few seconds, the view seemed unchanged, and then they were swallowed by the chaotic rooftops of Kreuzberg. This was his neighbourhood. These vibrant, diverse and energetic streets had been his kingdom.
This was what he wanted — what he needed. There was no other way.
As the train slowed for Kottbusser Tor, the Russian began to move. The four stops felt like ten. Keeping his distance and without looking directly at the Russian, he followed. Things needed to look normal. There could be no suspicions.
Above, the day was anxious to break. The sky’s dome, washed with blue, pleaded for him to stay. He looked greedily at the nimbus shapes flushed with shades of fuchsia and mauve. He drank it in through the dirty windows in the station’s iron canopy. He pulled his last breath of the Berlin dawn. The final inhalation of a suffocating man.
Then, he followed the Russian underground.
6
“Oi! Wake up!”
Leo forced his eyes open. It felt as though each one contained a handful of sand — a physical manifestation of his dream, perhaps.
He blinked hard and shook his head. The light stung.
“We’re here,” Allissa said from her seat across the aisle. “You slept through the entire landing. We all had to hear your snoring.”
Leo rubbed his face. “What? We’re what…”
“We have just landed at London Gatwick Airport.” Allissa mimicked the pilot’s plummy voice. “And the local time is —”
“Alright, alright. I get it.”
“And the outside temperature is… bloody freezing. And I think it’s raining.”
People scrambled to their feet around them. They stood, bent double, beneath the overhead luggage compartments.
Leo sighed and pushed his shoulder blades together. The man next to him stood and attempted to retrieve his bag from the compartment above.
“They’ve not even opened the doors yet,” Leo groaned. “No point getting up.”
Leo blinked again, trying to remove the colours that danced across his vision. This was typical. He’d sat awake for the first seven and a half hours of the flight, twisting and turning with every movement and sound. Then he’d fallen asleep just before landing.
At least it wasn’t as bad as their flight from Hong Kong to Abu Dhabi, Leo thought. On that flight, three days before, he’d finally managed to get to sleep just as the person beside him needed the toilet. Instead of shaking Leo awake with an apology, the man had attempted to climb over him. Although Leo knew this came from a place of courtesy, it didn’t mitigate the confusion of waking to find yourself straddled by a stranger.
Finally, as people began to shuffle forward, Leo pushed out of his seat. It wasn’t fair. Allissa just seemed to close her eyes during the safety video and sleep the whole way. Why couldn’t he? At least now they were going home to rest.
Weaving through the crowds in the direction of the train station, Leo realised he didn’t even know what time it was. Beside him, Allissa — bright-eyed and rejuvenated — led them towards the correct platform.
Although the case in Hong Kong had been trying for them both, Leo had found it emotionally draining. More through luck than design, he’d finally caught up with the woman who’d forced him into the world of missing people. All told he’d spent over two years looking for her. Countless days. Innumerable hours. Throughout that time, though, he’d never considered what he would actually do if he found her. Talk to her, he supposed, try to understand why she left. In reality, however, he had no idea what to say or do. It was like looking at an oil-covered beach or a desiccated forest. They had once been something beautiful and pure. But not anymore.
For the last three days, Leo and Allissa had been staying in a five-star hotel in Abu Dhabi. Since they had to stop there anyway, Allissa suggested they make the most of it. They’d spent the
