"About two."

"I see you've wakened earlier than me," he grinned. "Come in. ... Please."

He led the way up to the apartment. "I feel as though my head has a hammer on the inside of it," he said merrily. "We have really tied one up last night."

"We sure did," I agreed.

He didn't even ask why I was there, just explained that his sister was at work and excused himself. "I must have a bath. Please sit down, feel yourself at home. ... Would you like something to drink?"

"As long as it's not schnapps," I answered.

"Not even I would like one of these now," he winced. He got me a c.o.ke and disappeared into the bathroom.

I was so beat I could hardly think anymore. The sofa was tempting, but I knew if I lay down that would be the end. There was a telephone across the room and I thought it might be an idea to touch base with Powell. I didn't want him to put out a shoot-to-kill order, if he hadn't already done so, that is. After that, I'd have to deal with the leg, which was starting to swell up.

The operator connected me to BOB's main number and I finally got through to Powell's office. His secretary put him on the line right away.

"Can you imagine how deep in the s.h.i.t you are, Teller? I'll tell you. It's creeping up around your ears and you're about to suffocate in it."

"Did you like the flowers?" I asked, forming a picture of that vein in his temple starting to quiver.

"Where the h.e.l.l are you?"

"I had a nice meeting with our friend." Silence while he thought about it.

"You had contact?"

"Yeah, we spent the whole morning together. ... And guess what. He's a big fish."

"How big?"

"Somewhere between a tuna and a great white."

"What?"

"Big enough that Washington is gonna be very proud of you."

"You'd better come in, Jack. No s.h.i.tting, this isn't fun and games anymore."

"Remind me which part was was fun and games." fun and games."

"You know it's not just me anymore, Jack," he purred. "You're f.u.c.king with everything now, and you know how that goes. They'll crucify you."

"Yeah, and you'll be happy to provide the nails."

"If you get your a.s.s in here, I can help."

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"You choose." I was too tired for word games.

He sighed into the phone, then went silent again. I waited.

"Who is he?"

"I didn't get a name."

"What did he want?"

"I can't say yet."

"What do you mean, you can't say?! Who the f.u.c.k do you think you're talking to!"

"I need another day."

"You can't have another day! You can't have another f.u.c.king minute!" He tried to get hold of himself. "Look, just come in for a debriefing. ... If you're worried about this morning, it's forgotten. Just come in and let's figure this out together."

"When does Sam get in?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning. He's flying in early, but-"

"I'll see you then." I replaced the receiver before he could say anything else. Clearly the call hadn't done much to ease the situation, but at least I could say I'd checked in.

Horst was standing on the other side of the room rubbing his head with a towel. "I hope you don't mind," I said, pointing to the phone.

"Not at all," he answered. I wondered how long he'd been standing there.

"Your leg is bleeding," he added nonchalantly.

I told him about Bruno, leaving out the details, and he led me to the kitchen, made me sit while he rummaged through various cabinets and drawers. "I really have no idea where Hanna puts things," he apologized. Finally pulling a wooden box out from behind some pots and pans, he opened it and found a bottle of iodine.

"Perhaps you should remove your trousers," he suggested.

"I'll just roll the leg up if you don't mind," I replied.

"I don't wish to ruin them."

"I think they're pretty well shot already, Horst," I pointed out, poking my finger through one of the holes that Bruno's fangs had created.

"It can be repaired," he a.s.sured me.

It wasn't worth arguing, so I took my pants off and sat back down.

"You'd better prepare yourself," he said. "I think it must hurt a little bit."

I'm not sure if you can ever really prepare yourself for someone pouring a corrosive poison directly onto an open wound, but I sure as h.e.l.l hadn't. I screamed like a banshee, flew out of my chair, and hopped around the room peppering the air with arbitrary obscenities that I won't try to re-create.

"My goodness," was Horst's reaction.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" I turned on him, grabbed the bottle of iodine out of his hand. "You don't just pour it on! You use some of that cotton and gently DAB it on!"

He shrugged and pouted. "Perhaps it's a good idea that you get an injection for rabies...."

"It's a terrible idea, Horst! The worst f.u.c.king idea I've heard in a very long time! Jesus Christ, do you know how painful this is?!" It was stinging like a b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"Perhaps you've changed your mind and want that schnapps now."

I didn't want a schnapps or anything else. I just wanted to lie down and shut my eyes. He started unwinding a roll of bandages.

"What are you doing?"

"It's best to wrap your wound."

"Forget it."

"It won't hurt."

"You're G.o.dd.a.m.n right it won't because you're not coming anywhere near it," I said, being as clear as I could.

"I think it's best-"

"It's best to leave it open to the air."

Her voice took us both by surprise. We swung around simultaneously and saw Hanna standing in the kitchen door frame, holding two paper bags full of groceries. She wore a thin cloth coat and a slightly faded blue dress with a creamy floral pattern and pale b.u.t.tons up the front. A silk kerchief was tied loosely around her neck and her hair was pulled back behind her ear on one side while the other side fell softly across her cheek. She tilted her head and looked across at me.

"h.e.l.lo again," she smiled, her lips pursed in a gentle smirk. I guess I was a sight all right, standing there pantless with red dye running down my leg.

"h.e.l.lo," I smiled back.

"Jack has been attacked by a vicious dog," Horst explained.

"Oh, dear," she sighed in mock horror, placing the bags on the counter, then removing her coat. "How lucky then that you've found my brother. As you can see, he is a highly trained professional in these medical matters."

"She takes the p.i.s.s from me all the time," Horst moaned. "I really don't deserve it."

"What do you deserve?" she scoffed.

He stepped forward and kissed her forehead, then turned to me. "You see, the problem is that my sister believes she is my mother."

"The problem is that my brother is twenty-eight years old and still needs a mother."

"Then you'll cook a meal for us?" he grinned.

"I'm not sure you deserve that that," she muttered as she started putting groceries away.

"I suppose I should get dressed," Horst allowed.

"Why not? The workday's almost over."

Horst winked at me and disappeared.

I grabbed my pants, started to pull them on, being as nonchalant about it as I could, which wasn't very. She was arranging soup cans, trying not to notice.

"Leave them off," she said, without looking over.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll sew them for you."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know."

Then she gave me a long, hard look.

"What brings you to Berlin?"

"Business."

"Ah." She went back to the cans. She must have had a very complicated system for organizing them because she kept shuffling them around the cabinet, stepping back, then making one last adjustment that apparently upset the whole arrangement, causing her to start all over again. She was a woman you wouldn't give a second glance on the street. Attractive enough, but not a head turner. There was something about her, though, something I couldn't really put my finger on. Compa.s.sion, but without weakness, is the best I can do.

"He's a good kid," I said, just to break the silence.

"He's not really a kid," she smiled. "He just acts like one."

"There are worse things to act like."

She closed the cupboard door and looked at me again. She had this way of looking directly at you that was a little disquieting. Like she was trying to get behind your eyes. Then she'd look away, do something like fold the grocery bags and place them in a drawer.

"My brother is fascinated with your country."

"I noticed that."

"He thinks everything about America must be good."

"He's never been there," I shrugged.

She nodded her agreement, then said, "You seem very American."

"What's 'very American'?"

"You are," she laughed.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Horst doesn't seem to think so."