“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Ralf tried to run his hand through his hair, but his trembling fingers dug into his balaclava. He had to restrain himself from pulling the thing off his head. It seemed to be getting tighter and tighter. Suffocating him.

Brian jabbed Ralf in his side. “Come on. The only thing you have to do is keep an eye on everything from outside.”

“How can you be so sure the guy will do what you say?”

Brian extended his arm. The barrel of the gun pointed toward Ralf. “I’ll aim at his head.”

“Yeah, but that thing is fake. What if he shoots back?”

“Are you kidding?” Brian turned the gun over in his hand. The metal gleamed in the moonlight. Brian was breathing really fast, Ralf noticed. Those goddamn drugs. His friend was gone, and now he had to put up with a coked-up prick who was convinced of his own genius and invincibility.

Ralf drank the last drops of his energy drink and threw the can into a box on the back seat. He hated getting his car dirty. The Polo meant everything to him. His freedom. That car took him everywhere—Germany, Amsterdam, wherever. But it cost him a fortune in gas—not to mention tax, insurance, maintenance . . .

Freedom was expensive.

That was why he was sitting here.

“OK, listen, dude.” Brian grabbed Ralf by the coat, his hands balled into fists. He held his face close to Ralf’s. “Look at me.” He shook him gently. “The people who live in that house are up to their necks in cash, and soon it’ll be ours. OK? Fuck ’em. Say it with me.”

“Fuck ’em . . .”

“Exactly.” Brian patted him on the cheek. “Look at it this way: we’re just making a withdrawal.”

10

10

Helen grasped the handles of the machine and pushed them forward. Four, five. Her trainer had told her that she needed to keep breathing while she did this exercise, but it was impossible, so she held her breath and got through her reps as quickly as possible. Nine, ten. Done. Her arms dropped against her body.

The gym was busier than usual tonight, and there were lines for some of the machines. A dance class was underway next to the fitness area, with a group of twentysomethings being encouraged by a loud instructor. Their soundtrack matched the music playing from the line of TVs that hung over the cardio equipment.

Helen stood up. Enough for today. Arianne was on a cross-trainer on the other side of the room. Her face was red from exertion.

“Are you going already?”

Helen nodded. “Then there’ll still be something left of my evening. I won’t be at the gym next week, remember—that’s when Thom’s having his party.”

“Do you need any help with that?”