"Expecting someone?" said Javert through his teeth.
"N-no. I mean… yes. It's him again."
"'Him', who is 'him'?" murmured Javert surreptitiously scanning the beach and the trails for new arrivals. There was only a mother carrying a picnic basket and a baby, followed by two little boys in brightly colored swimming trunks with towels slung over their shoulders.
"The man who's been following me," explained Valjean.
"So that was it," said Javert and sighed loudly. "And here I was thinking naively that you just couldn't wait to see me."
Valjean reddened to the tips of his ears and opened his mouth to answer, but Javert preempted him:
"Forget it. I understand. It was a joke. You're nervous. I'd be nervous too."
The Presence disappeared.
"There, gone again," mumbled Valjean. "I'm sorry I'm ruining your vacation with this nonsense, Alex… I wasn't going to bother you with this until we were both in Berlin, but then yesterday he broke into my hotel room while I was out, and then I just couldn't stand it anymore. I thought I left him behind, but now here he is again!…"
"You said nothing over the phone."
"I didn't think it was safe."
"Do you think he followed you directly?"
"I have no idea, no idea...I hadn't felt him since I got into the train in Zurich. Ten oh two, Zurich-Basel-Freiburg. In Basel we had a ten-minute stop, so I got out and walked along the entire length of the train, and I'm telling you, Alex, there were no immortals on that train besides me. Did he come on the next train? But I paid cash everywhere, I used my other passport for ID, I cut my hair, I bought new clothes even! How did he know where I ended up? No, no, he couldn't have followed me - I would've felt him. Lord Christ Almighty! I abandoned my luggage; I threw away my phone... How did he know?.."
Valjean ran out of breath. Javert was still for a second, then stood up and began cleaning the sand off his shirt and trousers.
"I think we better move this conversation someplace more private. The inn bar is open, has private booths, and should be empty this early in the afternoon. Get your stuff and let's go."
"But he's somewhere close! What if he walks in?"
Javert shrugged and put on his jacket.
"So what if he does? You don't seriously think he will attempt to decapitate you in the middle of a restaurant, do you? With a chef and three waitresses and a drinking buddy of yours watching?"
He started up the trail.
"Come on, you scaredy cat!" he called out without turning his head. "You scaredy gorilla. Let's go have a Radler."
Javert's prediction proved correct: the bar was empty. A dour-faced waitress brought them both pleasantly chilled Radlers and marched off to the patio armed with a dishrag and a bucket of soapy water.
When they were finally alone, Javert insisted Valjean empty the stein halfway first and then start talking. Valjean downed half of his shandy with robotic obedience and found that his mouth began forming words without his leave, as though he'd drunk straight brandy instead of beer and lemonade.
He told Javert everything. About how the strange Presence began weaving in and out of his range two weeks ago, then followed him from France through Switzerland and now to Germany. About the midnight phone calls with nothing but hyena laughter on the other side. About the cryptic letters dropped into his mailbox and the disturbing "presents" left on his doorstep. Through it all, he desperately hoped for Javert to interrupt his narrative with reassurances or even mockery for being such a ninny. But by the time he had gotten to his discovery of a decapitated stray mutt on his kitchen counter, Javert's face was an impenetrable mask of authoritative attentiveness, and Valjean understood that things were very bad indeed -at least as bad as he had thought and perhaps even worse.