And even if he could've handled the guilt of it all, a relationship like that wouldn't be fair to Ann. She was a good woman with the heart of an angel. To lead her on, to give her hope where there was none, to become intimately involved with the lives of her and her son would have been wrong.

None of which stops you from wanting her, does it? Hood asked himself. Maybe that was why he and Sharon both worked so hard. They were replacing the passion they'd once had with something they could still do enthusiastically, something. that was fresh and different every day they did it.

But Lord God Hood thought sadly, what I wouldn't give for a night of what was.

The Alster-Hof Hotel was situated between the city's two spectacular lakes, though Hood, Stoll, and Herbert barely had time to check in and wash up before heading back downstairs. Herbert glanced out the windows while Stoll did a quick electronic sweep to make sure the room hadn't been bugged.

"We've got a pretty nice view, huh?" Herbert said as they rode the elevator down. He was absently twirling an eighteen-inch-long section of broom handle he kept under the wheelchair's left armrest for protection. He also kept a two-inch Urban Skinner knife tucked under the right armrest. "Those lakes remind me of the Chesapeake, with all the boats."

"They're the Binnenalster and Aussenalster," a young German porter said helpfully. "The Inner Alster and Outer Alster."

"Makes sense," Herbert admitted. He replaced his stick in the hooks under the armrest. "Though I probably would have called them the Big Alster and Little Alster. The big lake's what-- about ten times larger than the other?"

"Three hundred and ninety-five acres as compared with forty-five," the youth replied.

"I was in the ballpark," Herbert said as the elevator reached the lobby. "I still think my names are better. You can always tell big from little. But you may get 'em mixed up if you don't know which end of the city's in and which end's out."

"Perhaps you should place a note in the suggestion box," the porter said, pointing. "It's right over there, beside the letter box."

Herbert looked at him. So did Hood, who couldn't tell whether the kid was being facetious or helpful. Germans weren't known for their sense of humor, though he'd heard that the new generation was learning a lot about sarcasm from American movies and TV.

"Maybe I'll do that," Herbert said as he rolled out. He looked over at Stoll, who was bent beneath the weight of his backpack. "You've got the translator. What would those names be?"

Stoll punched the English words into his paperbacksized electronic translator. Almost at once, the German equivalent materialized in the liquid crystal display.

"Looks like they'd be called the Grossalster and the Kleinalster," Stoll informed him.

Hood said, "Doesn't have a particularly elegant sound, does it?"