Chapter 4

=== At home ===

Christina had switched off the TV - not another special about this stupid pilgrimage train and these terrorists! She did not want to hear it. Why bother with these things? This was not her business… Why at all people developed deadly viruses without sufficient protection, so anyone could steal it? Obviously, the government had enough money for such shit, and she had none… Muttering some unfriendly words against the authorities she went into the kitchen - and let out a shocked cry as Lennart stood behind her. She had not heard him enter the room. "This gives me the creeps, you know!"

"I'm sorry, this was not my intention. I just wanted my cloths back. And my weapon. I would really appreciate, if you give it back to me. I'm not quite capable of defending myself without it, at the moment."

"Your cloths are still drying. And your weapon is safely under my guard, I assure you." Christina did not trust him, and the combination of someone she did not trust with a weapon was a thing she did not particularly like. The man gave her an undecipherable look. She turned away, nervously pulling her hair back. Interpol-agent…"Have you contacted your superiors yet?"

"Yes. They'll send me a new team to France. We'll meet there in a couple of days."

Christina found she still did not believe him, at least not entirely. She remembered again that this weird accent of his was certainly not French. However, she did not want the truth, either. For the moment, she blocked all the questions rising in her head. "You should visit a doctor."

"No, it is okay. An Aspirin will do it. Ah… and…. Do you have any roadmaps from France, by chance?"

Christina nodded and walked over to the cupboard to get the Aspirin. While doing this she remembered that she had to buy some groceries… She did not like the prospect of leaving this man alone in the house, though. Claude was in school until afternoon. But… leaving him alone with her son was perhaps not a good idea, either. The boy already was far too obsessed with his new 'friend'. She let two pills fall into Lennart's hand.

"Thank you …"

"Christina", she answered, virtually hitting herself. Why did she tell him her name?!

"Christina", he repeated.

For a second she thought to see a little smile on his face. But this might as well have been her imagination. "I'll find you some maps. I'm not sure these are the actual ones, but I have no other. I have no money to travel around, you know. I'm only…" She swallowed the last part of her self-pity-sentence. She did not want to make a great display of her misfortune in front of this unknown fellow! She rather wanted to be left alone right now. Perhaps he was mocking about her? Mister Interpol-agent…yeah, surely he was mocking about her, like all the villagers, who whispered behind her! And… they were right…On top of the road maps she now pulled out of a basket, there were staples of official letters, reminders to pay whatsoever….I need a drink, Christina thought, wishing she could forever forget this whole misery, and the man standing behind her on top of all.

=== Meanwhile in the old warehouse and the Weinheim police station ===

Ten people equipped with all sorts of high-tech search gears were browsing the area for hours now, as one of them cried out: "Found something, guys!" he pulled a small round item from the muddy ground and placed it into a plastic bag.

"What is it?"

"A coin." He went to the makeshift table near the entrance of the old warehouse, where a colleague sat on a Bluetooth-wired laptop. The little piece sparkled in the artificial light, as the finder turned it around and around under the lamp. "Not an Euro… Make a photo and transmit it to the central, Mike!"

"This is a South African Cent." Polizeirat Henning smiled triumphantly and looked in the round of the other officers. "Means, our wanted fugitive was there. We are on the right track. We have to search further from this point on. And we have to double the patrols. He cannot hide forever; he has to show up. Somewhere, somehow…" For an instance, her eyes were the ones of a dangerous predator. Then she made a gesture around and stood up. "Dismissed!"

Kommissar Reiber rested seated, along with one of his assistants. They both looked at the representation of the coin on the laptop screen.

"You seem somewhat lost, what is it?" The assistant asked and Reiber sighed. "I would like to… know more about this man", he said after a while, eyes still focused on the coin.

"Because the Polizeirat is so fanatically out to catch him?"

"Perhaps. … Perhaps because she is that fanatically at all", the Kommissar answered. "You know I don't like her." He grinned wryly. "This might cloud my judgment, after all. But I close my eyes, while Henning is speaking, and I hear exactly the kind of blind hate and fanatism I expect from a terrorist… I don't like this kind of speeches, neither from criminals nor their hunters. Much less from their hunters." He stood up and stretched his legs. "Ah, I should get some rest…" He walked out of the briefing room, in spite of his efforts not to do so, still musing about their enemy. What had happened to shape a ruthless terrorist from a man? What has to happen? Perhaps life needed only a few stones thrown in a man's way to deviate him…

=== At home of the Hofer's family / Later the day ===

It rained again. Claude's hair and jacket was totally soaked already, but he did not care. His mind was busy with other things. He had seen one of the warrant posters on the school door. Lennart a terrorist? This could not be true! He could not be one of the bad guys, this simply did not match! The longer he walked, the more the boy was convinced that the others - the police, the authorities - were totally wrong. They did not know Lennart, however HE did! First Claude had thought to run to the police station and just inform them about their error. Now, nearly at home, he had dismissed the idea. Perhaps the real terrorists had somehow bribed the police - he had seen such a thing recently in the tube. He would not hand his friend over! No, he had to help Lennart, protect him. Claude's paces went faster. He had to reach home, before his mom turned on the TV!

Finally at home he discovered the TV was off and his mother involved with the laundry. After a short hesitation, the boy pulled the antenna out of the device and stuck his chewing gum in between. Yes, this should work! He was proud. Then, he went cleaning the cat's litter box. The faster he would have done all this stuff, the sooner he was free to pay Lennart a visit again. There was still so much he wanted to know! But he decided not to tell about the posters. Surely, his friend already had enough to ponder, enough to worry!

It was past midnight. Christina could not sleep. Finding that the TV suffered from some weird disturbances - perhaps the provider had cut her off for not paying the fees - she went to the terrace. The air was cold; it was October in a few days, after all. There was still a little light in the room of her son, now occupied from her 'guest'. She went closer and peered through the open window and the small slit in the curtain. To her surprise she saw not only Lennart sitting there in front of one of her maps, but also Claude, lying on the bed and sleeping, still in his daytime cloths and shoes. The man murmured something, in his mother language it seemed, for it was not German and not English, too. His voice sounded frustrated. With an angry movement he pushed the map away and buried his face in his hands. Christina felt a strange familiarity towards him. She rested there in the dark and held her breath as Lennart stood up and made a few steps through the small room. He looked tired and was certainly in pain. Without knowing how this had sneaked in her mind, she suddenly wondered how he would look like in a James-Bond-suit and without this five-days-beard. No, he was handsome even now. The thought had fallen into her consciousness like the first snowflake in winter, unnoticed till it settled down on the face and melted. As she became aware of it, she slowly stepped back through the door into the house.

=== Next day / Afternoon ===

Christina had been standing in her room for a while, regarding herself in the mirror and thinking. So, this was it then: life? Sitting here in this village and waiting for the next unemployment pay, drinking, watching stupid things in the tube and seeing her son loose his tracks like his father did? Miserable, shitty life! She trudged through the room, run her fingers through the hair and sighed. Halfway in the direction to the remains of the yesterday opened liquor, Christina stopped and turned around again. NO! Dammit, no! This is not LIFE! She scowled angry in the mirror. There had to be more! She wanted more! Only one time, even if it would be only a short adventure, she wanted to have life at its fullest! Suddenly excited like a little girl before the first visit in the circus, she began to dig in her wardrobe.

Lennart sat near the window to the terrace and just stubbed out his third 'Gauloise' in the empty flower box. During the day, he had again filed through all available maps in this household and browsed the internet on Claude's computer in search for a possible way out. So far, he had found none. Not through the police blockade, the boy had described him… He lighted another cigarette.

Right now, someone knocked. Lennart sighed and opened. Christina showed up in the door – and caught him totally by surprise with her appearance alone. The woman standing there in a red summer dress and with decent make up had nearly nothing in common with the one he had met so far. Was there some sort of celebration in the village this evening? Would the boy go with her? Would be not that bad… He could need more time to browse the maps without anyone asking questions.

"Hello, what are you up to? Village dance?"

"No", she answered, sounding a little nervous and with that alarming him.

What the hell was going on? Had she informed someone? He looked out of the window in order to determine possible threats outside in the evening. There were only birds and a barking dog and loud techno music sounding from another house. As his glance arrived again in his nearer surroundings, Christina stood right next to him and smiled.

"I just thought, you might want to have some company. This is a beautiful evening, perhaps the last one this year. Don't you think that?"

Heavens! She does not try to make a pass on me, or so? Lennart began to feel more uncomfortable. "Wonderful evening, yes", he answered. "But starts getting cold."

"Then we should procure some warmth." She laid her right arm around him and smiled again, and a second later, her left hand was on his chest. In another time, under other circumstances, Lennart would not have said 'no', perhaps. However, these circumstances were not now. He was many things, but not the man to take advantage of a girl by using lies and false pretenses!

"Christina… look, I know, what you want and…" He had forgotten the cigarette, which had burned his fingers now. He swore, while throwing the butt down. Then he started anew: "Look, no offense… but I'm not interested."

Her face fell, but she couldn't decide yet if she should cry or spit at him. She had built up her courage for this one moment; she had been ready to virtually jump off the bridge into nowhere… and she had made a fool of herself! "I… I am just a … miserable, dumb village chick, and you can have better? That's what you think, isn't it?! An ugly village chick! What kind of girls do you bonk away, besides? Models from Paris?!"

Shit! This is just the situation I need above all! She spun around, but he grabbed her hand and held her back. "And I did not say a word; you might be dumb or ugly! What I mean is, I am not the kind of guy you need in your life, believe me!"

"What do you know about my life? Or what I need? You are an asshole, Mister 'Interpol-Agent'!" She tried to get free.

Lennart held her firmly and she had no chance. "it is not that easy, Christina! Life is not a Bollywood Movie?"

"What this has to do with it? Are you trying to make philosophies right now, like my father?"

"Life is not a Bollywood Movie, where poor girls rescue injured agents, fall in love with them and live happily ever after! This is what I mean! Christina – no, don't say anything, hear me out! I am not an Interpol-agent. It's just the story I told Claude to silence him! Do you remember the incident with the pilgrimage train a week ago; the terrorists, who had stolen a deadly virus and endangered all those people aboard the train? In fact, they did only want to escape with their bounty. But everything went wrong, and they took the passengers hostage! I was the team leader! I am a criminal, Christina, do you understand? If anyone of the police knew I'm still alive, I would already rot in jail!" He let her hand go, feeling weak and exhausted all of a sudden.

Christina stood motionless between him and the terrace door.

"How could you do this to Claude?" she said then. "Simply show up and… and tell lies and –"

"I tried to survive, to escape! I TRIED to leave you all out of this!"

For some awkward moments, silence rested on the terrace.

"You are a member of the… Al Quaida?"

"I don't know what my sponsor works for. I was a mercenary, handling difficult operations… retrieving sensitive materials… such stuff."

Christina looked as if this confession was even worse then she had imagined it would be. "You did it for money?" She sounded disgusted and disappointed. Everything was falling apart, again. She wanted to run away and cry, but could not and stood there like frozen.

"Money is not such a bad thing, you have to admit", he answered. "I attempted to raise enough to pay a donor kidney on the black market and the transplantation for my daughter. She lies in a hospital in Pretoria. And… I will probably never ever see her again, because I cannot go back without getting a bullet in my head! So, don't YOU tell me life sucks!" Lennart had ended up shouting and Christina run out of the room, slamming the door behind her.