“He helped you get to Munich, he helped you get to Berlin. He’d help again if I asked. Just wait.”

They Sat on floor by the living-room window with the lights off. They were classic refugees, Arkady thought, he in pants, Irina in his shirt. Dried, the cut on his back looked like a zipper.

Where could they go? The police were searching for Makhmud and Ali’s killer. Assuming their guidelines were like the militia’s, the Germans would broadcast his description, watch the airport and train stations, alert hospitals and pharmacies. Meanwhile, Borya’s people and the Chechens would search the streets. Of course the Chechens would also be hunting Borya.

After midnight there was little traffic. Before Arkady saw cars down on the street he could identify their voices. The asthmatic rattle of Trabis, the clockwork ticking of diesel cabs. A white Mercedes went by at the speed of a trolling boat.

“Do you want to help?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Get dressed and go up to your floor.” He gave her Peter’s telephone number. “Tell the person who answers where we are, then stay there until I come up.”

“Why don’t we go up together? You can call.”

“I’ll be with you in a minute. Just keep calling until you get an answer. Sometimes he doesn’t pick up right away.”

Irina didn’t argue. She pulled on her skirt and went barefoot into the hall. The brief glimpse of light was blinding.

Below, the white Mercedes passed by again. Arkady heard the organ note of the Daimler before he saw it slowly approaching from the other direction. Max and Borya had to protect each other from Chechens as much as hunt for him. Max would be the one coming up, but Irina was right, he wouldn’t hurt her.

The two cars passed each other in front of the building and drove on.

In a few years, when developers were done, Friedrichstrasse would be pulsing like a regular artery with department stores, fast-food outlets and espresso bars. Arkady felt he was keeping watch in the graveyard of the old East Berlin.

The two cars appeared again from the same directions as before. They must have circled the block. The Mercedes parked across the street while the Daimler swung into the building garage.

There wasn’t a lot of protection in an unfurnished apartment. Arkady set his carry-on directly in front of the door so that anyone opening it would focus first on the bag. He lay down on the far side of the floor facing the door to present as small a target as possible. Through the floorboards, Arkady felt the elevator engage. He doubted Max would be alone. The crystal sconces in the elevator cab were bright. Arkady wanted the irises of Max’s and any friends’ eyes dazzled, tight as pins.