A flame leapt from the page of the book and threw an orange light on Richter's face. His eyebrows were pulled in at the nose, his mouth turned down.

Dominique continued. "You have enough insurance to start again. In the meantime, I will see to it that your group has the money to continue. The cause will not suffer. Only your pride is hurt. And over that, Herr Richter, I will lose no sleep."

As the register pages curled into bouquets of black ash, Henri carried the book to the bar. He wadded cocktail napkins onto the flame, then made a trail of them to the CO2 tank by the soda pump.

"Now I suggest you leave with my associates," Dominique said. "This is not the kind of feuer with which you want to get involved. Good day, Felix."

The phone clicked off, and a dial tone buzzed from the speaker.

Henri stepped toward the door. He motioned the other men over. "There's only about two minutes of fuse," he said. "We'd better go."

Yves stepped from behind Richter. As he did, he took the gum from his mouth and stuck it under the bar.

Richter didn't move.

"Herr Richter," Henri said. "So that you are not tempted to put out the fire, M. Dominique has instructed us to make sure that you leave-- or make sure that you do not. Which will it be?"

Reflected flames burned in Richter's eyes as he glared at the men. Then his eyes snapped front and he walked briskly from the club. The men raced out behind him.

Richter didn't say a word as he walked down the street and hailed a cab. Henri and Yves set off in the other direction, hurrying toward the deep blue of the Elbe.

They didn't turn when they heard the explosion and the crash of debris and the screams of people who were hurt or frightened or calling for help

When the cab driver heard the blast, he pulled over. He looked back, swore, and jumped from the cab to see if he could help.

Felix Richter did not join him. He remained seated, staring ahead. Since he did not know what Dominique looked like, he didn't see a face. He saw only bright red hate. And there, in the close confines of the cab, he began to scream. He screamed from his abdomen until it was empty, screamed from his soul until it was drained, screamed until his throat and ears both ached. At breath's end, he filled his lungs and screamed again, pouring out hate and frustration through his voice.

When that breath was gone, he fell silent. Perspiration had formed on his forehead. It spilled into the corners of his eyes. He was breathing heavily, but he was calm and focused now. He stared ahead and saw the crowd which was gathering to watch the fire. Some of the people were staring at him and he glared back, unashamed and unafraid.