He counted the money, then reached back into the safe and took out three passports—­his, Lotte’s, and Anja’s.

Just in case.

He closed the safe, switched off the light, and went back into the living room.

Rossett was standing behind the settee, upon which sat the handcuffed Neumann and March. Rossett looked at Koehler and tapped his wrist.

Time was ticking.

Koehler went through to the small kitchen and opened a can of food for the cat; he knelt down as Schwarz bounced into the room, summoned by the sound of the opener.

He looked into the living room from the kitchen and saw Rossett watching him.

“I can’t let him starve,” Koehler said, shrugging.

Rossett returned to watching the two policemen.

“Be safe, little boy, they’ll be home soon,” Koehler said softly before leaving the kitchen to join Rossett and the two policemen.

He grabbed his overcoat off the arm of the chair, then started toward the door of the flat, but he stopped when Rossett spoke.

“What are we doing with these two?”

Neither policeman looked up.

“Leave them. They are handcuffed.”

“They’ll raise the alarm.”

“What else can we do?”

Rossett didn’t reply, and it took a moment for Koehler to realize what that silence implied.

Koehler shook his head. “We’re better than that.”

“You might be.”

“I can’t hurt them.”

“They’ll get in the way.”

March risked a half turn of his head to look at Koehler but didn’t speak.

“I can’t do that.”

“Anja and Lotte?” Rossett said quietly, leaving the question for Koehler to ponder.

“No,” Koehler eventually said. “Get up.” He dragged the still-­groggy Neumann to his feet. Rossett followed his lead, pulling up March.

Koehler led the group into the small bathroom of the flat and sat Neumann down on the toilet seat; he rested a hand against the side of Neumann’s face and inspected the lump on his head. The wound was superficial. He looked at March.

“No noise, nothing at all. Sit quietly and wait till we have left the building; otherwise your men downstairs will pay a heavy price. Do you understand me?” Koehler still held on to Neumann but spoke to March, who nodded before sitting down on the edge of the bath.

Koehler leaned Neumann back against the wall, where his head lolled before coming to rest on the cold tiles. Koehler crouched in front of him for a second to make sure he didn’t fall off the toilet, then stood up and turned to March.

“Do you have a wife?”

March nodded his head.

“Children?”

March didn’t reply.

Koehler nodded. “My wife and child? I haven’t harmed them. You have to believe me; I’m trying to save them. I can’t let you get in the way. They are precious to me and I will kill you if you put them in danger or try to stop me. This is your only warning: I’ll kill you stone dead and walk away without a backward glance. If you’ve got a child, you’ll understand that.”

March stared back and Koehler nodded before walking past Rossett out of the bathroom.

Rossett remained in the room for a few seconds. He stared at the lowered head of March and then Neumann.

“Hey,” Rossett called to March, who looked up. “Make sure you feed that cat.”

ROSSETT OPENED THE apartment door and looked down the corridor.

“Is there a fire escape?”

“No.”

“Front door, then?” He looked at Koehler.

“The car is at the front. It’ll be the quickest and easiest.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Thanks for coming for me,” Koehler said as the door clicked shut behind him.

Rossett didn’t reply. He was already halfway down the corridor, coat billowing, feet soft on the carpet.

They hit the stairs at a run, quickly and quietly, two, sometimes three at a time, traveling fast without words.

At the bottom they burst into the entrance hall of the building and took the hard right that led to the revolving door.

Neither slowed when they saw the two uniformed German policemen leaning against the concierge’s desk drinking tea. The policemen turned at the sound of Rossett and Koehler approaching. One of them put his mug on the counter and pushed himself upright, unsure whether to stop the two men jogging toward him or not.

His colleague half lowered his cup but relaxed slightly when Koehler smiled and said, “Warmer in here than out on the streets?”

“Yes, sir. May I ask, is the generalmajor finished upstairs?”

Koehler and Rossett kept moving briskly toward the doors, full of purpose.

“Very nearly. He is questioning a few other ­people. He’ll not be long.”

The policemen saluted as Koehler and Rossett exited through the revolving door.

The cold hit them hard on the steps as the sentry snapped to attention, eyes ahead, a dusting of snow still on his shoulders. Koehler and Rossett ignored him and made their way to the car.

It was then they heard the smashing of glass.

Shards landed around them, falling stars catching the light and landing in the snow.

They both looked up toward Koehler’s flat.

March was half leaning out over the balcony, straining to look down past the window ledge toward where the sentry was standing.

“Stop those men!”

The sentry took a half step forward, still looking up, trying to see where the shout was coming from.

Rossett backhanded him hard on the jaw. The sentry went sideways and down in a heap at the bottom of the steps, a pile of military gray, his helmet dislodged. Rossett grabbed the sentry’s rifle before it hit the ground and, turning in one fluid motion, worked the bolt, driving home a round, then bringing the gun to bear on the revolving door.

The two policemen stared openmouthed on the other side of the glass.

Nobody moved.

Rossett heard Koehler’s shoes crunch in the snow as he took a backward step to the car. He stared at the two policemen on the other side of the door, aiming his rifle through the glass, shifting the sights from one to the other.

“Somebody stop them!” the shout from above came again.

Rossett heard the car door slamming shut.