Chapter 24 Thomas #2
“Assume smart.”
We drove in silence for another ten minutes, winding through back roads that added an hour to our journey. Every intersection was a decision point. Every car that appeared in the mirror was a potential threat.
A black Mercedes sat idling outside a café—I memorized the plates.
A delivery truck followed us for three kilometers before turning off toward a warehouse.
A woman on a bicycle glanced at our car as we passed, and I found myself wondering if she was a spotter, a pair of eyes reporting our movements to someone with a radio.
This was what the conspiracy had done to us. It had made us see enemies everywhere, made us trust nothing and no one.
“Blue Opel,” Will said quietly. “Just pulled out behind us.”
I checked the mirror.
He was right. A small blue car with two figures in the front seats was maintaining a steady distance.
“Coincidence?”
“Let’s find out.” Will took the next left, then an immediate right, then pulled into a petrol station and stopped by the pumps. I got out and made a show of checking the tires while watching the road.
The blue Opel drove past without slowing.
The driver didn’t look at us.
Neither did the passenger.
“Could be nothing,” I said when I got back in the car.
“Could be.” Will pulled back onto the road, heading the opposite direction from the Opel. “Or they could be radioing our position to a team ahead.”
“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”
“We’re alive. That’s not optimism; it’s tradecraft.”
We switched routes twice more, cut through an industrial district, and doubled back through a residential neighborhood where the narrow streets would make a tail obvious. By the time we reached the outskirts of Bern, I was reasonably confident we were clean.
Reasonably.
But not certain.
Certain was a luxury we couldn’t afford.
The city felt different now. I’d always liked Bern, with its orderly streets, efficient trams, and the quiet prosperity of a country that had stayed out of wars that had torn the rest of Europe apart.
Now, every passing face was a potential enemy. That made my skin crawl.
“Parking garage on Lowenstrasse,” Will said. “We’ll walk from there.”
We left the car on the third level between a delivery van and a concrete pillar that would make it hard to spot from the entrance. Will checked his weapon and slipped it back into his coat.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No. Let’s do this anyway.”
The walk to the Hauptbahnhof took twelve minutes.
We stayed on opposite sides of the street, moving at different paces.
We were two strangers who happened to be heading the same direction.
If someone was watching, they’d have to choose which one of us to follow.
If they chose wrong, the other would spot them.
The station was crowded with afternoon travelers.
Businessmen in dark suits, families with luggage, students with backpacks, all of them moved with the purposeful efficiency of people who had trains to catch and places to be.
I scanned the crowd as I entered looking for anyone who wasn’t moving, anyone who was watching instead of walking.
A man in a brown coat stood near the newspaper kiosk reading a magazine. He’d been reading the same page for thirty seconds.
A woman sat on a bench by the departure board, a small suitcase at her feet. She hadn’t looked at the board once.
Watchers. Maybe.
Or maybe just ordinary people doing the thousand mundane things that people did in train stations every day.
I couldn’t tell anymore.
Will entered through a different door, drifted through the crowd toward the lockers. I positioned myself near a pillar with a clear sightline and pretended to study a map of the city while watching for anyone watching him.
Locker 247.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as Will worked the combination, opened it, and retrieved a small envelope. The whole pickup took less than thirty seconds.
He walked away without looking at me.
I waited two minutes, then followed.
We met again outside and sat on a bench overlooking the river.
The man in the brown coat hadn’t followed. The woman with the suitcase was gone. If we’d been tailed, they were better than us . . . or they were waiting for a better moment.
“Well?” I asked.
Will opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of pink paper that smelled of sweet perfume. The handwriting might have been the most feminine script I’d ever seen on an Agency document.
Hans, I miss you so much. I hate that Father forces us to correspond in secret.
If only I could see you. Do you remember our special place?
I go there every day in the hope you might appear.
If you love me, meet me at 14:00. We will drink Café Americana and talk of gentler days.
Please, Hans, don’t make me wait. I want to see only you. It has been too long.
I looked at Will. “Café Americana?”
“American coffee. That’s the recognition signal.” He took the note back. “Our special place—Manakin must have told them about the Café Sélect.”
“Only you?” I asked.
“Sounds like this is a solo run.”
I checked my watch. Half past one.
“That’s thirty minutes from now.”
“I know.”
“So we go today. Right now.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” Will folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. “No sense waiting. The Baroness needs answers, and we need bodies for the 14th.”
I shook my head. “Spycraft dressed up as a love letter. Someone on that team has a flair for the dramatic.”
“It works. Anyone who intercepts it sees a woman pining for her sweetheart.” Will stood, brushed off his coat. “Come on. Let’s go find out if Hans’s sweetheart is ready to do more than talk of gentler days.”