Werner was already there. She saw him in the distance through the glass doors. His arms were folded, and he was feigning interest in some artwork hanging on the wall. There were two yellow shopping bags on the floor next to him.

About fifty paces.

Forty.

Werner looked up and spotted her approaching. His skin was pale, his eyes hollow. The whole situation was affecting him more than he wanted to admit. He bent down to pick up the bags and moved toward the doors.

Helen took her staff pass out of her pocket.

Another twenty paces.

She heard somebody talking—a woman. The voice came from an office on the right-hand side of the hall. The door was ajar.

Straight ahead, she saw Werner look around anxiously, a bag in each hand. There was no going back now—there would be no second chances today.

As she walked past the office, she saw Marjan standing at a desk, talking on the phone. Her platinum-blonde hair was pinned up.

Helen’s mouth instantly went dry. She felt a strange sensation—as if she were growing taller, lighter, floating above her own feet.

Fifteen paces.

Marjan must have heard her footsteps—it was unavoidable—but she didn’t look up or turn around.

Behind the glass, Werner’s face took on a worried expression. He didn’t know exactly what was wrong, but he knew things weren’t running according to plan.

Ten.

Helen looked back swiftly—Marjan was still on the phone. She sought Werner’s eyes and held her index finger to her lips. He nodded to show he understood. Then she held her pass up to the electronic box. The doors swung open almost noiselessly. Helen dropped the pass into the pocket of her white coat and silently took the bags from Werner. They exchanged a brief look of understanding, and then she turned around and hurried into the waste room.

Pulling two containers from a stack, she dropped a full bag into each of them. Pushed down the lids until she heard a click, and placed them on the trolley alongside three others.

She straightened her back and stood still for a moment, her hands folded over her nose and mouth. Her heart felt like it was leaping back and forth behind her ribs.

They’d done it. Early tomorrow morning, she would dispose of the last remaining packages, and then it would be over. Her breathing gradually returned to normal. She gripped the handle and opened the door.

Two pairs of eyes stared back at her in alarm.

7

7

“I’m not going back there, Mom.” Ralf flipped on his turn signal and joined the main road. “They won’t help me.”

“Of course they will. That’s their job.”