so.”
She went to her purse and began digging through it. Court shifted his hand closer to his right hip, ready to pull the pistol in the small of his back if she brought anything out of the bag that could pose a threat to him. But instead she just took out a bottle of pills. “Lortab,” she said. “It will help with the pain.”
Court shook his head. “Tramadol. It’s milder. I just need to take the edge off.”
She threw the bottle to him and he caught it. “Break those in half. I had oral surgery some months ago. Only needed the pills a couple of days for the pain.”
Court had dealt with painkiller addiction in his past, a shockingly common occurrence among military and intelligence paramilitary operatives. But he also knew his body, and he knew the drugs. If he took the opioid only when he was, indeed, in real pain, then there was less chance his addiction would fire back up.
And he was in pain now. “Thank you,” he said as he put his shirt back on.
“Thank me by doing me one more favor.”
“Sure.” He broke one of the pills and downed it without water.
“You have a lot of bruises and scrapes. Contusions that are not three weeks old. Whatever you are doing, it still involves the risk of injury.” She patted him on the arm. “Try not to get hurt any worse than you already are.”
Court nodded, looked out the window to the street. “I’ve been trying and failing at that for twenty years.” He looked at her now. “I’ll try harder. Just so you don’t stress.”
He produced a wad of euros, and she looked at it, but did not take it. “Tonight was just a consultation. I’ll take your money, but not tonight. You are an old friend, and it is good to see you.”
Court had spent just a few hours in this young woman’s care years earlier. He remembered little of their encounter. It spoke volumes about the other sons of bitches sent here for treatment that she remembered him so warmly.
* * *
• • •
Five minutes later he was out the door of Dr. Kaya’s apartment. As he walked along Tiergarten Strasse, he looked in every dark alcove, noted every parked car, took stock of which lights were on in which apartments at one in the morning. His actions were automatic; he recorded mental notes so that he would understand the natural patterns in these surroundings, because he knew he’d be back again.
He also thought about Zoya.
He climbed into a taxi in front of the Swedish embassy, asking the driver in passable German to deliver him to the U-Bahn station at Rathaus Spandau. They drove west through the night for nearly fifteen minutes before the Mercedes pulled over and Court climbed out and began walking again, alone through the empty streets.
Ten minutes later he entered an all but darkened building and started up the stairs.
Court had rented a completely nondescript flat at Bismarckstrasse 64, not too far from the U-Bahn, just west of the Havel River in the Western Berlin district of Spandau. The small space was on the third floor next to a staircase that led down to a rear parking lot, and it had a dingy and unadorned yellow balcony that looked out over the main street. But other than a good rear exit and good sight lines on a forward approach, the flat had little going for it. Here Court was four miles away from the center of the city, the floors and bathroom were dusty and grimy, and the only neighbor on his floor seemed to be grilling some sort of sickly-sweet-smelling meat on the next balcony over, even now, well past one a.m., with the scent wafting into Court’s shitty rental property.
He normally preferred sleeping in closets; he felt safer there than in a bed, because anyone sneaking up on him in the night would naturally expect to find him in bed. But here at Bismarckstrasse 64 he tossed his threadbare bedding onto the cold vinyl flooring of the bathroom, as there wasn’t a single closet in the 450-square-foot flat, only a dresser with drawers that felt like they had been welded shut by time, humidity, and poor craftsmanship. He flipped off the lights, drew his HK VP9 pistol, and placed it next to him on the floor.
His fever had already broken due to the hydrocodone Dr. Kaya had given him, though he knew it would return by morning. His