"Which room are you in?" Kiki murmured in a voice like honey.
Kendall, inhaling her spicy, musky scent, could not find his voice. He pointed, and again she led him as if he were on a leash until they were standing in front of the door.
"Are you sure you want two girls tonight?" She brushed her hip against his. "I'm more than enough for any man I've been with."
The general felt a delicious shiver travel down the length of his spine, lodge itself like a heated arrow between his thighs. Reaching out, he opened the door. Lena writhed on the bed, naked. He heard the door close behind him. Without thinking, he undressed himself, then he stepped out of the puddle of his clothes, took Kiki's hand, padded over to the bed. He knelt on it, she let go of his hand, and he fell on Lena.
He felt Kiki's hands on his shoulders, and, groaning, he lost himself within Lena's lush body. The pleasure built along with the anticipation of Kiki's long, lithe body pressed against his glistening back.
It took him some time to become aware that the quick flashes of light weren't a result of the quickened firing of nerve endings behind his eyes. Drugged with sex and desire, he was slow to turn his head directly into another battery of flashes. Even then, negative images dancing behind his retinas, his fogged brain couldn't quite piece together what was happening, and his body continued to move rhythmically against Lena's pliant flesh.
Then the camera flashed again, he belatedly raised his hand to shield his eyes, and there was stark reality staring him in the face. Kiki, still dressed, continued to take shots of him and Lena.
"Smile, General," she said in that sensual, honeyed voice. "There's nothing else you can do."
I've got too much anger inside me," Petra said. "It's like one of those flesh-eating diseases you read about."
"Dachau is toxic for you, so is Munich now," Bourne said. "You've got to go away."
She moved to the left-hand lane of the autobahn, put on some real speed. They were on their way back to Munich in the car Pelz's nephew had bought for him under the nephew's name. The police might still be looking for both of them, but their only lead was Petra's Munich apartment, and neither of them had any intention of going anywhere near it. As long as she didn't get out of the car, Bourne felt it was relatively safe for her to drive him back into the city.
"Where would I go?" she said.
"Leave Germany altogether."
She laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "Turn tail and run, you mean."
"Why would you see it that way?"
"Because I'm German; because I belong here."
"The Munich police are looking for you," he said.
"And if they find me, then I'll do my time for killing your friend." She flashed her headlights so a slower car could get out of her way. "Meanwhile I have money. I can live."
"But what will you do?"
She gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm going to take care of Virgil. He needs drying out; he needs a friend." Nearing the city, she changed lanes so she could exit when she needed to. "The cops won't find me," she said with an odd kind of certainty, "because I'm taking him far away from here. Virgil and me, we'll be two outlaws learning a whole new way of life."
Egon Kirsch lived in the northern district of Schwabing, known as the young intellectual quarter because of the mass of university students that flooded its streets, caf泄s, and bars.
As they came abreast of Schwabing's main plaza, Petra pulled over. "When I was younger I used to hang out here with my friends. We were all militants, then, agitating for change, and we felt connected to this place because it was from here that the Freiheitsaktion Bayer, one of the most famed resistance groups, commandeered Radio Munich near the end of the war. They broadcast messages to the populace to seize and arrest all local Nazi leaders, and to signal their rejection of the regime by waving white sheets out of their windows-an action that was punishable by death, by the way. And they managed to save a large number of civilian lives as the American army swept in."
"At last we find something in Munich that even you can be proud of," Bourne said.
"I suppose so." Petra laughed, almost sadly. "But I among all of my friends was the only one who