There was a popping overhead, and he looked up to see the sky filling with lights. They were sending the games off with fireworks. How easy to imagine Berlin covered in light. How easy to watch the lights fade and convince himself to embrace the chill of his own cowardice and fade away with them.
But not tonight, he thought. Not when he knew which life it was that had come to an end. There was nothing here. Nothing. And there was no reason to mourn it.
Hoffner stepped back. Out by the trees, a second set of lights flashed. Car lights. Hoffner stared out across the water for a moment longer and moved toward the car.
Inside, Radek was smoking.
“We need to go,” Radek said. “He’ll fly with or without you.”
Hoffner got in, and Radek put the car in gear. He said, “You saw what you needed?”
“You have the papers?”
There was a tinge of frustration in the answer. “Yes, Nikolai. I have the papers. They’re still in my pocket.”
Radek would get them out-Mendy, Lotte, her parents. Radek would do this for him.
“You know I could set you up as well,” Radek said. “Paris. London. You’re sure about this?”
The car emerged from the trees, and Hoffner stared out as the city flickered and pitched above him. He closed his eyes and let Berlin slip forever from his grasp.
A lifetime later a dying sun lingered across the water as the old Hispano-Suiza ground its way along the coast road. Mueller slept, Hoffner drove, and the first glimpse of Barcelona’s Montjuic appeared on the horizon.
Hoffner felt the heat. He felt the damp from the sea. And he felt a rush of life that, if not entirely his, lay just beyond that horizon in the waiting arms of the only faith he had ever known.