He said, “Is there anywhere you can go? To leave Prague for a month?”

She studied the pavement, took a moment to answer and, voice soft, said, “There is going, and there is paying for the going.”

It’d have been easy to interpret her statement the way his sister would have intended it, as a passive-aggressive, guilt-inducing shakedown that said no matter how well he’d paid her to accompany him to that meeting, it didn’t come close to touching the damage he’d done, and that he owed her. But this wasn’t that. Even if she had a place she could go, even if she worked her own hours and didn’t have to worry about losing a job, there were still costs associated with keeping a roof over her head and perhaps homing a pet. Even the semi-transient couldn’t uproot as easily as he could.

He said, “You’re not safe here.”

“One month is enough?”

He nodded. “Should be enough.”

Her face filled with doubt. He couldn’t explain how he knew, or why, and it’d be ludicrous after all this to ask her to trust him, so he said nothing.

Headlamps rounded the distant curve, lighting what had otherwise been a traffic-free stretch of road. Anna leaned forward for a better view, a position that drew attention and ensured anyone who knew her or was looking for her would recognize her without help. He put a hand on her arm and held her back.

She jerked loose and glared.

He said, “It’s only been fifteen minutes.”

The vehicle slowed, approaching too directly to be random.

They were targets against a wall, waiting for a firing squad.

Jack reached for the small of his back. Gripped the handgun.

Anna said, “That is him, my friend.”

Jack said, “Just wait. Give it time.”

An old beige Opel hatchback ran its tires up onto the sidewalk and stopped a meter away. Anna moved to take a step forward. Jack, gripping her arm, held her in place. The passenger window rolled down.

Anna tugged and, forcefully this time, said, “It is my friend.”

Jack walked with her, put himself between her and the passenger door, leaned down, scanned the interior, confirmed the backseat was empty, and loosened his grip. “Don’t go home,” he said. “You know Petín?”

She answered with a confused shrug.

Of course she knew. Everyone knew.