But Nahid had the footage on his phone. He could send it to the police, and if they did not provide satisfaction he would find a way to pass it to the United Nations, because he had aided them in digging up the bodies. He still had the names of some of the men and women he had met in the course of that work. They would listen to him, because they knew he was not one to tell lies.

So lost was Nahid in his thoughts, and so intent on the sight of the two men growing smaller, that he bumped into someone on the path. He instinctively apologized, and saw that he had almost sent a young girl tumbling to the ground. She was small, perhaps still in school, although she was not wearing a uniform.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Nahid. ‘Are you all right?’

The girl nodded, and checked the front of her tan coat, as though worried that she might discover a stain upon it following the collision.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘And you? You seem distressed.’

She spoke in heavily accented German, and her voice was deeper than he might have expected from someone of her age.

‘I had a bad experience,’ said Nahid, ‘but I will be okay. I think I winded myself, though.’

He saw that the girl was not as young as he had first thought – not a girl at all, in fact, but a woman, although one that had not grown to adult height. Her eyes were brown, the same color as her hair, and her skin was of an almost luminescent pallor, as of a creature bred in darkness.

Nahid’s stomach hurt. He must have taken her elbow in his gut, he thought. He ought to sit, but he needed to be on his way. He looked down at his belly and saw a stain spreading across the front of his white shirt. It was very red, like beet juice. The stain would be difficult to remove, but there were ways …

‘I think you should rest for a moment,’ said the woman, as she helped Nahid to a bench. He sat heavily and the pain caused him to cry out. The woman’s hand punched at him once, twice, and this time he felt the blade slice through his insides. Then she was searching his pockets and taking his cell phone from him. Finally, she wiped the blood from her right hand on his coat, and fastened the buttons.

‘What is your name?’ she said.

‘Nahid.’

‘Good. I like to know names.’ She tested the word in her mouth: ‘Nahid. Na-hid.’ When she had memorized it to her satisfaction, she said, ‘You can sleep now, Nahid.’

But Nahid Hasanović was already dead.

Chapter XXXIII