“I don’t take orders from you.” Mikey slowly rubbed his jaw. His eyes ran inquiringly over Ralf’s clothing. “Where’s the money?”

Naomi made herself even smaller behind Mikey, lifting her knees up to her chest.

Ralf wondered how she had gotten here. Had Mikey dragged her off her bike? Run her off the road?

What the fuck has he done to her?

“I’m asking you a question.”

“I heard you.” Ralf’s voice sounded pinched—like it belonged to somebody else. He could feel the gun behind his waistband; the clammy skin underneath it; the smooth, dense metal. “I don’t have any on me.”

Mikey’s expression shifted. He raised his eyebrows, then narrowed his eyes once more.

“You want Brian. Not me,” continued Ralf. His eyes flickered back and forth between Mikey’s eyes and his hands, alert to the slightest movement. “And you’d better leave Naomi alone. She has nothing to do with this.”

Mikey slowly began to move. He made a half circle around Ralf, like a predator encountering a rival on the edge of its territory, staring at him all the while. A butterfly knife appeared in his hand, the metal clinking between his fingers. “Think you’re tough, do you?”

Naomi shrieked.

Ralf took a step backward and simultaneously pulled the gun out from under his jacket. Aimed it at Mikey. His hands were trembling uncontrollably; the grip was slippery with sweat. The room went blurry. Ralf could only see Mikey, his crooked eyes. The knife.

There’s no going back.

9

9

“Would you like one?” asked Helen. She held up a packet of instant cocoa she had found in the box next to the kettle.

Werner was standing by the window, looking at the brilliant-blue sky. “We should drive over to Brighton for a drink and then go for a stroll along the beach. What do you think?”

She put the packet right back down. Brighton had made a big impression during their first visit. It had an enormous palace festooned with white minarets and cupolas—the Royal Pavilion—and the city center was overflowing with cafés and small theaters. Not to mention the shingle beach and the esplanade full of fairground rides and slot machines. “Will the pier still be there?” she wondered out loud.

“It must be.”

Helen grabbed her coat and hung it over her arm. “OK, let’s go,” she said, smiling.

Werner didn’t move.

At the door, she looked over her shoulder. “You did mean now, didn’t you?”

“Sure.” He looked pensive for a moment before adding, “Don’t you want to take any photos for back home first? So they know where we are?”

“Oh yeah, of course.”