‘There were no government officials,’ said Carter, ‘or any criminal organisations that helped him.’
Babcock stared at him. ‘But that’s impossible,’ he said.
Carter told him about the underground depot in the ruins of the Eisengasse bunker complex.
‘Son of a bitch,’ said Babcock. ‘Wilby had Dasch pegged for a genius.’
‘I think Dasch knows he isn’t one,’ replied Carter, ‘and that makes him smarter than all the people I’ve met who thought they were.’
‘We have been chasing a mirage,’ said Babcock. ‘At least we were until Garlinsky showed up. Because this’◦– he held up a block of the counterfeit money◦– ‘this is every bit as dangerous as guns.’
‘So are you going after him?’
‘No,’ said Babcock. ‘We’ll make him come to us. We’re going to make an announcement about the discovery of the plane and the counterfeit currency it was carrying. And then we’re going to let Garlinsky finish what he started.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you really think Garlinsky and whoever the hell he works for are going to wait around for someone to put together the pieces of where that plane came from, and all the money it was carrying? They’re not going to take a risk like that. Since Dasch is the only person who can lead the Russian or the West German authorities back to them, they’re going to make sure that can’t happen. They’re going to find him and they are going to shut him up. Dasch might not know it, but he’s just bait for a trap now, like a goat tied up in a clearing. And when the wolf comes we’ll be ready.’
‘What about Teresa?’
‘What about her?’ muttered Babcock.
‘She has nothing to do with it. She’s asleep back at the hotel.’
‘That saved her from me. If she had seen my face, Mr Carter, even if only for an instant, this would have ended differently. But that isn’t going to save her from Garlinsky. The fact that she came on this journey, even if she didn’t know why, is more than enough to get her killed.’
‘You really think they’d do that?’
‘They might. They might not. Who knows what rules they play by? But one thing is for sure◦– it’s what I would do if I were them. It sounds to me like you might have a personal stake in this.’
‘I might.’
‘Wilby did warn you about her.’
‘He tried. I’ll give him that.’
‘Well, I can’t help you there,’ said Babcock. ‘You just have to get her back to Cologne, so that her father thinks she’s safe and that his problems have been solved, and to get yourself out of there before we make the announcement about the counterfeit money and all hell breaks loose. Which it will, I guarantee you. Listen to me, Carter. You’re almost there. Just keep your eyes on the finish line. Keep reminding yourself why you spent the last nine months in prison, not to mention almost getting yourself killed I don’t know how many times. In one week, you can have your life back, just as we agreed.’
‘I don’t even know if she’ll be there when I get to the hotel.’
‘Then hurry,’ Babcock told him. ‘And I’ll be waiting for your phone call.’
By the time Carter returned to the Orlovsky, he had cleaned himself up as best he could. He made his way through a staff entrance at the back.
He found Teresa sitting on the end of the bed.
She was dressed. Her bag was packed and sitting by her feet. ‘You look like you’ll need some new clothes,’ she said.
He glanced down at the ruins of his suit. ‘Yes,’ he whispered.
‘I didn’t know if you were coming back.’
‘Of course I was,’ he said.
Teresa looked around the room and sighed. ‘Do we really have to leave so soon?’ she asked. ‘I was just getting used to this place.’
Carter sat down on the bed beside her. ‘There’s one train a day, and it leaves in three hours. You know that we have to be on it.’
The journey took two days. They spoke very little, but the silence did not trouble them now as it had done before.
Babcock’s words echoed relentlessly in Carter’s head◦– that in one week he would have his life back, the way it had been before they took it. He thought about those months in Langsdorf prison. He thought about Ritter’s gun aimed at his face and the sound of the iron knuckles when they made contact with his skull in the alleyway behind the train station. He looked at Teresa and told himself that none of what he felt for her was real. That it had never been real. It was simply what he had been forced to do. In one week, none of it would matter. He would look back on this chapter of his life as the time he almost fell for his own lies. And nothing more.
That was what he told himself.
They arrived at Cologne station just as the work day was ending. Evening light filtered through the dirty glass panels in the roof, refracting crookedly off the smoke and steam that billowed through the crowds milling about upon the main platforms.
He walked her to the taxi stand.
‘Are you coming with me,’ she asked, ‘or are you going back to your apartment?’
‘I’ll go to the apartment,’ he told her. ‘I need to get some rest and some clean clothes. I’ll see you again in the morning.’ The words felt like stones in his mouth, clattering against his teeth and chipping them down to the nerves.
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. ‘I’ll see you then,’ she said.
Carrying his suitcase, Carter walked across the city, heading for his apartment above the electrical appliance repair shop. As he plodded through the darkened streets, all the lies that he had told himself as he sat beside her in the train caught up with him at once. There would be no tidy closing of this wound. The best that he might do was learn to live with it and hide his memories from the world as he had done before, but there would never be peace in his heart. He thought about the people he had seen in that strange little town in the mountains, with their broken bodies and their worn-out souls, pouring sulphur down their throats to burn away the debts they owed the past. And he knew he was one of them now.
He unlocked the door and walked inside, not even bothering to turn on the light. He flopped down on the bed, springs groaning as they took his weight, and it was only then that he realised there was somebody standing in the doorway to his kitchen. ‘Oh, shit!’ he said, and sat up, heart stamping in his chest. He rolled off the bed and onto his feet, looking around for anything he might be able to use as a weapon. A chair. The bedside lamp.
The figure in the doorway raised his hands to show he wasn’t carrying a gun. ‘Mr Carter!’ hissed a man’s voice. ‘I mean you no harm.’
‘Then what the hell are you doing here?’
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ said the man. And now he stepped forward into the last faint puddle of light still shining through the window.
It was Garlinsky.
Carter felt the dread rise in his throat.
‘I have a message from my employer,’ said Garlinsky. ‘He would like to meet you. He has something for you. Something of great value, which he hopes you will accept in trade.’
‘In trade for what?’
‘Information that he knows you possess.’
‘And if I say no to this meeting?’