Petín was a hill near the center of Prague, a popular recreational area for the locals and a destination for tourists, who sought out its Eiffel-like lookout tower for the views. “Go there,” he said. “Go to the statue of Mácha. Search in the trees behind it. You’ll find a brown paint mark. Upturn the largest stone near that tree. There’s money. It will get you what you need for clothes and shoes and personal items. It’ll get you a ticket out of town.” He pulled the stolen euros and koruny from his pocket, shoved it in her hand. “So you don’t run out of petrol along the way.”

She took the money, squeezed his biceps, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. She said, “Maybe this bad thing is intended, or maybe you know is only a possibility, but you care enough to come get me and make me free. So. Thank you.”

He opened the door for her. Nudged her inside. Closed it behind her.

“Go to Petín,” he said. “Leave Prague.”

The window rolled up, the tires pulled off the curb, and the Opel hung a U-turn. He watched the taillights until they faded, stashed the pistol behind his back, and weight dropped off his shoulders, lifted off his chest.

He’d warned her, and provided the money she’d need to run. He’d done what he could, but more than that, she’d forgiven him and absolved him.

The absolution mattered.

He shoved hands into pockets and began a long, slow stroll back the way he’d come. The gate was closed when he reached it. The security badge opened it for a second time, and the badge got him past the glass and into the drab reception room.

He detoured for the security desk, rifled through drawers that offered paper and pens and standard office fare, and studied the monitors. The feeds came from cameras that pointed outward, presumably to protect the building from vandals and thieves and record the comings and goings at the front.

There’d be footage of him somewhere, of him and Anna strolling out and, an hour or so later, of his solo return. His face would be grainy because of the dark, and difficult to enhance because keeping his head down was second nature, and if the footage existed, someone somewhere would try to make use of it, and he wished them luck with that.

He left the security badges on the desk.

The love seat was exactly where he’d shoved it, to the inch.

He pushed it back across the room, righted it into place.