Hoffmann regretted it immediately when he saw the fear in his son’s eyes. He shouldn’t have raised his voice, let his own worry affect someone else. He kissed Rasmus’s forehead and hurried upstairs.

“Hugo? Come down now.”

“Not until you tell me why.”

“I don’t need to explain.”

“Yes. Because it doesn’t feel right. And every time it doesn’t feel right, it’s because of you, not us.”

Two little boys who lived on the run for so long. A life they never asked for—the consequences of their father’s life. They handled it so differently. Rasmus, so secure in himself, had just accepted their living conditions in another part of the world, and just as quickly adjusted when they came back here. But Hugo needed routines and transparency in order to handle his thoughts, and he never really got used to South America. And then when they returned to Sweden and the house he grew up in, it took him a long time to start trusting the fact that they were there to stay.

“That’s not what’s happening now, Hugo. This isn’t about me.”

“Then what’s it about? Why can’t we stay home like we usually do?”

Piet Hoffmann understood. This was a boy who’d been forced to have a bodyguard because his father told him to, a boy who’d listened to his parents talking about the threat of life in prison when they didn’t know he was there, a boy who knew very well that an infiltrator risked his life every day, so it wasn’t strange that this boy would sense when something was off and draw his own conclusions.

Not strange that such a boy would be afraid. Just like his father was.

“It’s . . . a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“Something for Mom. Which I have to take care of. And Hugo—you can’t say anything to her.”

Lying to his children was easier. As long as he didn’t meet their eyes.

“What exactly, Dad?”

“If you don’t know, you’re less likely to give it away. Like Rasmus did. Do you remember?”

Silence.

The lie was being judged.

Then he heard the floor next to his son’s bed creak. Then Hugo’s shuffling feet. His reluctant steps coming down the stairs.

“This is so boring.”

Hugo managed to look deeply annoyed as he laced up his old sneakers, which he refused to replace, irritated as he put on his backpack and headed out the front door.

“So we just have to sit there while you work. And wait.”