“I should have done that,” Badem said, lowering his shirt. “But for several years, it was a very good living.”

“I don’t remember the night Mirelle died, and I’m trying to piece it together. I need you to tell me what you remember. Please, will you do that?” There was desperation in my voice, and I believe he heard it.

Badem gestured with the gun for me to sit on the sofa. I took the cushion Snoopy had vacated. Badem went into the kitchenette and rattled around, out of sight for a minute. When he returned, it was without the weapon. Instead, he brandished two glasses and a bottle filled with a clear liquid. He returned to the kitchenette and came back with a bottle of water.

“You have raki before?” he asked me.

“In Istanbul once,” I answered. “That was enough.”

He chuckled lightly. “It’s not poison; it just tastes like it.” He poured some liqueur into each glass and chased it with water. Instantly, the liquid became cloudy. He took a drink and made a face. “You too,” he said, and I followed suit. It was bitter and bracing.

“Tell me what you remember,” I prompted.

“I had been working at the hotel for six, seven years then. It was a good job, the best job I ever had in this country,” he said. “One afternoon, Harris came in. He said he needed me to be on call that night.”

“Hold on, Harris was in Berlin? We’re talking about twelve years ago. January thirtieth.”

“Yes, it was Harris. Most of the special assignments I did were for Klaus von Strohm. But the particularly dangerous ones were managed by Harris.”

I stared into the pale clouds swirling in my glass. Harris was almost always by my father’s side. When I’d called my father, he’d been traveling. Only . . . I didn’t actually remember calling my father; I’d been told I called him. What the hell had brought Harris to Berlin?

“Did Harris tell you what you would be doing?”

“No. He said it would be a late night, but it wouldn’t be dangerous.” He took another swig. “I got his call at three in the morning. I lived in Charlottenburg then; it wasn’t a long drive, maybe ten minutes. He picked me up, and we drove to the edge of Mitte, near the zoo. Harris told me to wait for him. I remember it was a freezing night, and he turned the engine off. It was so cold, and he was gone for fifteen minutes.”

He was staring into his glass as if a vision of that night were playing out in it.