He had made it to his hotel and he was not even sure how. The police had not arrested him, the whole walk home he had expected to be stopped, but nothing had happened. When he had finally made it to his room he had stormed to the bathroom and had thrown up. He had thrown up until he had nothing left. Then he lied on the floor and let the whole scene replay before his eyes. He could simply not stop it. Weakened he had finally crawled to the TV set in the main room, had sat down on his bed and switched on a news channel. It was all over the news.

Shooter in German High School. At least 15 dead. Simon had seen more than 15 bodies. He was sure of it. The shooter had been killed on site. Nothing more was known at this point. He watched it for an hour, always the same cycle of news, the same reporter on site explaining that today at this and that time a man had entered the school and began firing at the young pupils and teachers there a like. Everybody expressed how bad this was and it was reported that ambulances and coroners appeared, as police had sealed of the school. Much too late, Simon thought. Not a word about him. After an hour or fifty minutes a rumor began to circle and was picked up by the media outlets. The shooter had been a teacher. A teacher at the school. Simon remembered he should call Fornby, but he felt not like it. When he finally decided he probably had to his phone rang.

Brockmann.

„A little late for the party.“ He said in a weak tone.

„What the hell happened?“ Brockmann hissed. Simon laughed. Was he mad at him? Seriously?

„What the hell happened? A man killed students at a school. Teachers too. Schoolboys and girls. I was there and the police was utterly useless and the only cop got shot, so I picked up her gun and . . . I killed him.“ Simon said. „That is what happened!“ Simon said.

„Why did you do this?“ Brockmann asked.

„Why? You damned asshole. He killed people!“ Simon yelled at the phone. Then there was a pause.

„He might have killed you.“ Brockmann said.

„No kidding? He might have killed a lot of people. But I killed him! You hear me? I pumped so many bullets into him ,there was blood everywhere! He end not dead right away! I looked into his eyes and you know what? He did not give a shit. All he could think about was killing more people! I killed him Brockmann! I killed a man!“ Simon gasped and felt tears now running down his face.

„You are in shock.“ Brockmann said.

„No shit? Hell, yeah I am in shock! What else should I be?“ Simon yelled again.

„Okay, listen to me closely now. You need to keep a calm head. I get to Berlin switch the next plane. Where are you?“

„In my hotel,“ Simon said. „Fornby said I needed to flee the scene so I did.“

„Do you still have the gun?“ Brockmann asked.

„No. It was a cops gun.“ Simon said, trying to concentrate through all the noise that seemed to occupy his mind.

„Where was yours?“ Brockmann asked.

„I got it here. I did not take it with me.“ Simoin said.

„You idiot.“ Brockmann hissed. „Did you wipe your fingerprints off the weapon?“

Simon hesitated, trying to remember. „No, I did not.“ He finally said.

„Goddammit. Okay, pack your things and leave the hotel. Do not check out, just leave. You need to go somewhere where you do not need to ID yourself to get shelter. A homeless shelter, a brothel. Something like that.“ Brockmann spoke slowly and with a clear voice. Simon realized he had this conversation before.

„Okay.“ He said.

„Get rid of your gun. If police catches you they cannot get you with an illegal gun, alright?“ Brockmann said.

„Okay. The phone too. They can track the phone. I got a back up that is not on my name.“ Simon realized the mistake he had made. The mistakes. „They ... know who I am. The police woman, she saw my ID.“

„Great.“ Brockmann hissed. „How did she ... nevermind.“ He sighed. „Get moving and I will be there in three to five hours max.“ Brockmann said.

„Got it., I call you from my backup so you got the number.“ Simon said and killed the line. He felt he did not wanted any more advise. It was hard enough to recall the one he had. He took a plastic back and then picked his gun from his suitcase, putting it inside. Then he took the SIM card out of his mobile and put it in there, too. Finally he looked around, closed his suitcase and realized his shirt was full of his own vomit. He took it off, put into the back with the gun and SIM card and realized then it could identify him. He took it out again and threw cit into the garbage. They would know this was his room anyway. He had checked in. Finally he was half certain he had done everything as ordered and left the room.

Outside he realized immediately he was not alone in the room. Four policemen on both sides of the corridor awaited him and a man in his late thirties with short black hair and a half long coat approached him. „Mr. Bleicher, I am Haupt Komissar Johann Streits of the Berlin police. We need to ask you to drop your things and come with us.“ He said with sa calm voice. Simon looked at the plastic bag and then let it fall to the ground. He also let go of his small suitcase he was dragging after him.

„Sure.“ He said. He had wasted too much time. Brockmann would hate him for it.

****

The interrogation room was bright and sparsely furnished, as you imagined them to be. He had only seen those in TV. Even when he had given his testimony on Sandra he had been in a bureau.

He was not hand-cuffed, they had not been forceful as they had brought him here. Yet nobody had spoken a word to im about anything.

After half an hour the inspector and his partner, a blonde woman in her late twenties came in. Simon smirked as he realized they probably had discussed who should do the interview and had send in a reasonably attractive woman to do so.

„This is Kommissar Lena Mayer. You already know me.“ Streits said. „We have some questions to you, as you can imagine.“

Simon nodded. Lena had the plastic back of him with her.

„Yes. I think I would like to see a lawyer first.“ Simon answered. He had thought about this and had decided a clawyer was a good idea.

„You are not accused of any crime yet.“ Mayer said and sat down.

„Yeah, I iaht wanna see a lawyer anyway.“ Simon said.

Streits sighed. „Sure. So you got one or shall we get you one? We can also Fett you a phone book or a even a list, if you want to.“ He said. „But why do you not let me ask you a couple of questions, no even better, why do you not listen to what we know and then we get you a lawyer if you feel you still need one?“ Streits raised his brows.

Simon looked at him. Then he nodded. He was curious how this all was seen by them and he understood if he was a suspect he would be asked questions, not been told stories.

„Okay, so from what the crime scene tells me and what Helena Berger told us ...“ Streits began.

„That is the Police woman?“ Simon asked. „Howe is she?“

„She is fine.“ Mayer said. „She is treated as we speak. But she is in no critical condition.“

Simon nodded. „Good. How about the old man in the corridor?“ Simin asked.

„We have several injured and we do not know who you refer to, but we will ask once we are done here. Okay?“ Streits explained.

„Okay.“ Simon nodded.

„So you showed up at the scene of the crime while the shooting was still ongoing. You found Helena Berger injured and no police present. The shooter was still ... in the process of killing people. You took her service weapon, entered the school through a window and confronted the shooter in the corridor of the ground floor in the west wing. You fired several shots at him.“ Streits took the file he had brought.

„Nine.“ Mayers said and Streits nodded.

„Nine shots. You hit him eight times totally and he died instantly.“ Streits said. Simon shook his head. He knew he should not talk, but he not the strength toi fight this.

„He did not die instantly. He lay on the floor for a moment before dying.“ Simon said.

„How long?“ Mayer asked.

„I do not know. A minute? Maybe less.“ Simon said.

„Did he say anything?“ Streits asked.

„No. He just tried to grab his rifle, which I shoved away. He still tried to reach it and then he died.“ Simon said.

„He tried to reach his rifle? He did not say anything?“ Streits asked.

„No.“ Simon said. „He only wanted his rifle.“

The two police officers looked at each other.

„So you are trained in the use of weapons? Have you been in the army?“ Streits asked.

„No. Do you not have my file?“ Simon asked.

„Not yet. But you own a gun. Do you have a licensed for the handgun we found when we arrested you?“ Streits asked.

„No.“ Simon sighed. Brockmann had once told him the story to present at this point. He prayed he remembered it right,.

„I found the gun in an alley in Hamburg a few days ago. I wanted to turn it in, but was told I should have informed the police and not shave picked it up in the first place. So I hesitated.“ Simon sighed.

„And you brought it here to Berlin with you?“ Mayer asked,

„I felt it was a bad idea to have it lie around. Yes.“ Simon answered. Both policemen nodded.

„Which street did youi find it?“ Mayer asked.

Simon looked at her. „Berthold Street.“ He said. „Was lying on the ground as if someone lost it.“ He said what Brockmann had told him to. He looked at both police officers. „Is this even an official investigation? Do you not need to make a record? Get my dates?“ He asked.

„We will do all that. For now we are unofficially asking questions to get a clear picture of what happened at the school.“ Streits said.

„And that does not go on record? Maybe I should really get a ...“ Simon said.

„Mr. Bleicher, from all Helena told us you are a goddamned hero. You saved countless lives today.“ Mayer said.

„There was nobody else to do anything ...“ Simon stopped. Now he understood. They did not wanted him to go on record that the police took an eternity to go there. That he was alone, because they were the ones who guarded some demo and had not enough people around.

Simon nodded. „The true hero is the police. Helena Berger who reacted immediately and was almost killed for it.“ Simon said.

That moment the door opened and a man in a cheap suit appeared. He had to be in his late sixties and was wearing and old worn-out suitcase.

„Reimund Schmidt, I am Mr. Bleicher lawyer.“ The mansard and Streits and Mayer leaned back.

„Mr. Schmidt, just in time. We have not yet started to talk with your client. Right, Mr. Bleicher?“ He asked.

„Yeah, they just offered me a coffee. Which I could use.“ Simon said.

„Sure, we give you two the room and the coffee is on the way.“ Mayer said and her and Streits nodded at him and left the room.

****

Brockmann waited outside the police station. When he had arrived Fornby had informed him off the arrest. He was still very well informed, the old Brit. He had send a lawyer for Simon and that was all they could do. It had been one of their old specialists. They had lawyers in every big city back in the days in case their agents ran into conflict with the law. Which happened regularly. That one had probably not expected to get a call after thirty years, but he had picked up and been there within half an hour. Fornby probably paid very well.

Yer, even a lawyer could not keep the police from asking questions and they did so for several hours. It was the afternoon when Simon finally left the building and Brockmann had been about to give up, when he saw Simon on the stairs with the elder man in a suit who had to be his lawyer.

„From everything that went down there I guess the will not charge you with anything. You acted clearly in self-defense and they seem to have bought your story about the gun.“ The lawyer said and Simon gave him a tired smile. This al had to be exhausting for him. The hours of questioning, he was not used to.

„Thank you. Without you I would have been pretty lost.“ Simon said and shook hands with the lawyer.

„Don‘t thank me, Fornby had one good with me and you are practically a hero, kid. I do not expect any trouble, but if there is any you got my number.“ The lawyer left and Simon turned to Brockmann. tired he walked down the stairs to the street light Brockmann was leaning against.

„They got me right when I left my room. With my gun and everything. But they consider me to be a hero, so it seems I am good.“ He said and gave his partner a tired smile.

„You probably are their hero. You saved a lot of children.“ Brockmann and gave a grunt. He nodded down the street and began to walk. Simon followed him.

„So you are not gonna tell me you are proud of me or something, really? I would be shocked.“ Simon said.

„Proud? That was idiotic. Totally foolish and unnecessary. We operate in secrecy and you just made yourself famous and got the full attention of the police.“ Brockmann shook his head. „You failed completely at your mission.“

„Failed? Unnecessary?“ Simon gasped. „This man was killing kids, poor innocent kids!“ Simon almost yelled. Brockmann turned and signaled him to keep his voice down.

„We can talk at the hotel.“ Brockmann said.

„No, we can talk right here. Hell, what did you wanted me to do? Watch and let the kids die?“ Simon asked.

„You could have been killed. You could have been exposed. You are one of the last members off the Nocturne Society and that does not mean shit to you, but like it or not, you got responsibilities now. You got a purpose and what you did did not make fulfilling that easier.“ Brockmann said and Simon laughed at him. He could not believe the man was actually angry at him.

„Do you wanna tell me you would have let him kill those kids? Hm? Because I do not believe you. Because I saw you jump between me and a seven foot monster a few weeks back and you did not care about your purpose.“ Simon looked at him and Brockmann was silently staring back.

„Would you have stood by? Hm? Honestly.“ Simon asked.

Brockmann kept on staring. Finally he shook his head. „Probably not.“ He admitted and clenched his hands to fists. Those large hands that could probably break Simon‘s neck if they wanted to.

„Neither could I. I could not watch them die. Okay? Sorry, but I could not.“ Simon said. He wiped tears from his face. „I did not wanted to kill anyone, but I just could not ...“ He stopped talking.

Brockmann remembered how it felt for him. The first time he had taken a life. It had not been in combat. Yet, he had done though for a greater good too. At least that ewas what he had believed. He felt the pain of remembering this even.

„The city has changed a lot.“ Brockmann finally said. Looking around he barely recognized the Berlin he had been stationed at forty years ago. That had been a divided city with a wall running through it. The DDR on one side, the BRD on the other. two Germanys. Enemies. Rivals. Uneven brothers.

„Yeah?“ Simon asked and began to walk again.

„Listen.“ Brockmann said and Simon stopped without turning. Killing that guy saved people. It was a mistake from our perspective, but it was a good mistake to make.“ Brockmann said.

Simon turned and nodded. „Okay. They kept all my things. I need top go shopping.“ Simon said and walked on.

„I get Fornby get you stuff from Hamburg here.“ Brockmann said. „We got work to do.“ Simon stopped again and turned around.

„What work? The police is on top of things. We got the guy. I got the guy. He is dead.“ Simon sighed.

„You remember your mission?“ Brockmann asked, looking at him with a grim face. Simon had seen this face before. He was on to something.

„Look for any occurrences of unusual or excessive violence in the area.“ Simon said. He had forgotten all about it since the attack.

„So, did you find any?“ Brockmann asked and passed him. Simon closed his eyes. How could he oversee this? He had come to the conclusion Brockmann had send him on a nonsense mission to get rid of him. Suddenly that was no longer the case. He knew Brockmann was troubled by it. As always his face showed nothing but grumpiness and misgiving, but Simon had spend time with him. In his eyes there was a fever.

****

Brockmann had gotten a cheap motel near the attack site and they checked in ,sharing a room for now. A suitcase was there. An old leather one Brockmann used to travel obviously. The thing looked like it had seen a lot and probably better days.

„Listen. When I shot him, when I pumped in full with bullets the man behaved ... unexpected.“ Simon said as Brockmann sat down on the only seat in the room. Simon sat down on the bed.

„Describe it to me.“ Brockmann said.

„He only wanted to grab his gun and kill more I think. He was not concerned with dying, only with not being able to keep on killing.“ Simon said.

„Indeed unusual.“ Brockmann said.

„Maybe he was just crazy. These shootings happen, you know?“ Simon said. Then he paused. „Alsdo the TV said it was a treacher. I cannot remember ever hearing about a teacher doing this.“ Simon admitted. Brockmann nodded.

„I have seen people die, some of them certainly not in the right state of mind. They all wanna live in the end. It is human nature. They all beg and plea to you or God or whatever they believe in.“ Brockmann hissed.

„What do you think happened to him?“ Simon asked.

„I am not yet sure. But we need to have a look at his body.“ Brockmann said.

„Impossible. Police will not let us.“ Simin said.

„We will break into the morgue.“ Brockmann said calmly as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

„What?“ Simon asked.

„There is no other way. You should sleep now. I will get us what we need.“ Brockmann said and left the room without a further word. Simon watched him go up and walk out and was left alone. He doubted he could sleep, but when he lay back and felt the bed under him exhaustion quickly took him out and he fell into a deep slumber.

****

Brockmann left the hotel and it had begun raining. Berlin was a terrible grey place, when it rained. The massive concrete buildings and their newer counterparts made of steel and glass all seemed drained of all their colors.

Pulling his coat tighter around his body he lweft the Hotel behind and looked for an alley where he was alone. He found one right under a bridge over which the subway drove. It stank of urine and rotting garbage there, but Brockmann appreciated the ugliness. It would keep people walk through the passage.

He took out his mobile and it took him embarrassing long to unlock it and dial the number of Fornby.

„Report.“ Was the first word the Englishman said.

„They let Simon go and do not press charges it seems. He is considered a hero it seems. But the police now know him. He will be in their files.“ Brockmann said and got a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it. He had reduced smoking to regain some fitness, but right now he felt he wanted to feel the calming effect of the nicotine.

„Good. Very good. My old friend seems to have done the job.“ Fronby did not mention the lawyers name. Typical for him, being careful.

„I think there might be more to this. Well, probably this is just coincidence, but there is the possibility we got a Level 3 here.“ Brockmann said.

„A Level 3? What kind of Level 3?“ Fornby asked now with an almost aggressive voice.

„The Wormking. Are you familiar with it?“ Brockmann asked.

„No, never heard of it.“ Fornby admitted.

„Well, it was my first encounter with an anomaly.“ Brockmann said. „Here in Berlin. Summer of 1979.“ Brockmann said.

„That was long before you ...“ Fornby stopped. It indeed had been years before he even learned the Nocturne Society existed.

„Yes.“ Brockmann confirmed the unsaid assumption.

„That explains why I never saw it in your files.“ Fornby said. „Are you sure of it?“

„No. It is possible. Things fit together, but as I said. Might be a coincidence. I need to break into the coroners office tonight. Are there still any stashes around Berlin? We need to tool up for this one.“ Brockmann asked.

Fornby was silent for a moment. „Yes, I think they are still there. I kept on paying rent for them all over the country to keep them falling into the wrong hands.“ Fornby said.

Brockmann grimaced. Fornby had said he had given up on the Nocturne Society, but he had paid a fortune over the years probably to keep up a minimum of infrastructure. The man as unreadable as always.

„There was one at Friedrichshain, I recall.“ Brockmann said. „I put it there.“

„Yes, I think that one should still be around.“ Fornby said. „We cannot discuss this over the phone obviously, but what kind of Level 3 are we talking about. A barely level 3 or a full blown Level 3 threat.“

„Full blown.“ Brockmann answered.

„Can you and Simon handle it?“ Fornby said.

„If it is really what I think it is probably not. But do we have any other option but try?“ Brockmann asked.

„We could ...“ Fornby went silent. What could they do? Inform the Government there was a supernatural threat of a magnitude it could lead to mass mayhem and death? They would be committed to a mental hospital at best. „What else can I do to help you?“

Brockmann sighed. „Doctor Vladimir Boyka. He served as a Doctor in the JVA, the army. Can you find out if he is around and if he is in Berlin still?“ Brockmann asked.

„Of course.“ Fornby replied.

„Good. He might be able to help.“ Brockmann sighed. he despised the man, but if he was right he needed to talk to him. „Would be in his eighties now. Maybe that helps.“

„I will find out if he is still alive and if he is I will find him.“ Fornby said. „How is this possible? That a Level 3 appears after all those years?“

„I do not know. It is unlikely. Maybe this isfalse alarm.“ Brockmann said and looked around to make sure nobody was listening in.

„After what happened here in _Habmurg, we cannot allow us the luxury not to find out I guess.“

„No, we cannot.“ Brockmann killed the line and began walking. He remembered allot well how close they had come to failing 36 years ago. It had been a different world and this had been a different city. He had been a very different young man back then.

Brockmann felt the chilly wind and the cold rain as he walked to the next subway station, hoping for the stash to be there still.

****

Simon opened his eyes and realized in the darkened room was someone else. The heavy breathing was familiar. „Brockmann?“ He asked. There was only a grunting sound and Simon did not turn. He stared at the wall or maybe it was the Bartholomäus door he focussed.

„I think I understand you better now, actually. Having done it. Having killed. It changes the perspective quite a bit. You can probably only endure it by putting some distance between you and the act itself. That is why you are so angry at the world, right? Because it is unfair. The whole life and death game has nothing heroic. I should be dead. The man was more dedicated, a better shot, a more ruthless warrior. I was just scared to death. Yet, I am alive now and he is dead. Despite being a superior murderer he died. He died by my hand. I cannot stop thinking about it. The look of his eyes, as he desperately tried to grab his gun. As if he wanted to correct this unfair outcome. Maybe my gun was better suited for close combat. Or maybe I was just lucky. Maybe the many shots had made him deaf. A tinnitus sending a peep into his ears, so he could not hear my steps when I approached. I don’t know. It seems absurd. Abstract. A man died and a man lived. I am the one who lived. Before me so many died though. Children. Kids with a bright future ahead of them, becoming accountants, dancers, teachers or lawyers. They will all now be buried. their parents will cry. Their loved ones will feel endlessly hollow. Do you think the man had a loved one? Children maybe? You think he might have killed those kids and at home his own kids waited for him to come back? Will they cry now?“ Simon stopped, wiping his tears away. They had his computer. It was a strange thought, totally unfitting. He knew he would get his stuff back soon, but he suddenly realized he the police had his computer. It was so unfitting and inappropriate to think of such things. He heard steps. Something was wrong. They did not sound like ...

„Brockmann?“ He snapped up, his body nose tense. He wanted to grab his gun, but first he did not remember where it was and then he suddenly realized he had none. Slowly he turned around and saw the door to the hotel room was open now. Had it been open all the time?

„Brockmann?“ He asked again. Trembling slightly he got up ands walked to the hotel rooms door. He kicked it to close and turned to the bathroom. It was the only place someone could hide. He breathed in, feeling his body had regenerated the adrenaline it had exhausted over the day- Now it kicked back into his system and the feeling was almost familiar.

Grabbing the door and ripping it open was open swift move. The light inside the windowless room was off and he grabbed it and switched it on. Nothing was inside.

The door to his hotel room opened and he jumped out of the bathroom and saw Brockmann enter, with a large bag on his back, as fisherman often used them. A duffel bag they called it he believed.

„Are you alright?“ Brockmann asked and Simon felt his heavy breath.

„Was there someone in the corridor?“ Simon asked. Brockmann shook his head. „There was someone in the room. I thought it was you, but ...“ Simon leaned against the floor.

„You probably dreamt.“ Brockmann said and put the bag on the bed.

„I do not think I dreamt.“ Simon said. Brockmann gave him a long look. Then he nodded. Simon could see he did not believe him.

„Will you be able to go through with this?“ Brockmann asked.

„Why? Art you concerned I go crazy?“ Simon asked.

„I did when I killed my first man.“ Brockmann asked. „Today this is called PTSD I believe. Soldiers ...“ Simon cut Brockmann short,

„Post traumatic stress Syndrom, yes I am familiar with it.“ Simon said. „Did your therapist tell you about it?“ Simon asked.

„Yes, she did.“ Brockmann said. #

„What did she say?“ Simon was curious about those mysterious sessions with a therapist.

„She thinks I had it and was not treated for it.“ Brockmann said.

„Well, if I have it, what does it change? You got any other options for a partner?“ Simon sighed. Brockmann looked at him and nodded. Then he opened the bag and got a revolver out. Not the one he usually used, but it looked quite impressive. Brockmann got a holster and took of his coat. He was smelling as if he had not showered in days. Simon wondered if that was probably true.

„You need a shower.“ Simon said.

„I need answers.“ Brockmann said as he put the shoulder holster over his arms and Simon saw the stretching caused him pain. Then he put his jacket and coat back on and grabbed into the bag again, removing a smaller pistol. It looked old, the design looked outdated.

„This is a Makarov. Small, but packs a punch. Will be easier for you to hide.“ He gave it to Simon.

„A Russian pistol?“ Simon said and looked at it.

„Yes, it is my old service pistol.“ Brockmann said. „I cleaned it. Should work fine.“ He took two magazines out of the bag and gave them to Simon.

„Not sure if it is a good idea to carry a weapon with all the police attention. Next time it will be a bit hard to explain away.“ He said. Brockmann nodded.

„Yes. But you need one if you need one. So we got no choice.“ He said. Simon nodded. Then Brockmann removed two plastic bags and ripped them open. Inside were black overalls. He gave one to Simon and nodded.

„For tonight.“ He said.

„Who was it?“ Simon suddenly asked and Brockmann turned his head slightly.

„Who was what?“ He asked and Simon shook his head.

„The first man you killed. You mentioned him. You remember his name?“ Simon asked.

„Gunther Neider.“ Brockmann said. „36 years old at the time of his death. A teacher from Nordhausen.“ Brockmann said.

„Why did you shoot him? Was it ... self-defense?“ Simon asked.

„No.“ Brockmann said. Simon stared at him and Brockmann ski masks out of the bag. He felt Simon‘s eyes on him probably and stopped for a moment. He did not look at Simon, as he continued, but kept his eyes on the bag.

„He tried to pass the border, just outside section 327. The borderline I was guarding. He set of a mine and a flare was shot Infothek sky. It illuminated the whole field and I pushed the bottom in my little guard tower and a large floodlights switched on.“ Brockmann said.

„You were a soldier in the eastern German army?“ Simon asked.

„Border patrol. Yes. I remember raising my gun and seeing him through the scope. I prayed he would turn around. He did not. He was dedicated to escape. My job was to never let anyone escape. We had ... orders for these kind of situations. Specific orders.“ Brockmann said.

„Oh my God. You killed him?“ Simon asked.

„It was what we did. I was the best marksman of my glass. The shot was not that hard. I aimed for his chest, for his spine. Shooting from behind into his heart, before he could reach the west. I pulled the trigger and he collapsed.“ Brockmann put a thin lipped smile on his face. „He was a traitor. It felt even a little good. That I had not hesitated. That I had kept the integrity of my country and my honor intact. I was proud.“ Btockmann said. Slowly he turned.

„A true believer.“ Simon said and it was not without a little disgust. Brockmann had killed an innocent guy who had the simple desire to live in freedom.

„With every fiber of my body. I felt not even bad about it. Not until I found out he had a family. They had escapad to the west a week earlier.“ Brockmann looked at Simon.

„How many of those poor bastard did you shoot?“ Simon asked.

„Only this one. I quit the job soon afterwards and was assigned to a combat unit.“ Brockmann nodded. „After a demotion.“

„I am sorry.“ Simon said.

„Oh it was alright, ranks meant little to me.“ Brockmann said.

„No, about the ... that you had to shoot that guy.“ Simon said.

„So am I.“ Brockmann said. He took out a strange object that looked like a grenade, but with an orange gflass body instead of a metal hull.

„What is that?“ Simon asked.

„A napalm grenade.“ Brockmann said. Simon gasped.

„You are not planning on using it, do you?“ Simon laughed.

„Not if it is not necessary.“ Brockmann replied. „Everything for tonight is prepared.“ He turned to Simon. „I scouted the area, the building. Medium security. Nothing too fancy or modern.“ He said.

„So how do you plan to get in?“ Simon asked, his thoughts still with the border shooting, but he was trying to focus on the task at hand.

„I got us some help.“ He said. „Cost me a thousand bucks, but I guess it is gonna work.“ Brockmann said. „Get dressed. We gotta be there in two hours.“

Simon checked his clock. It was ten. So they were to enter the morgue at midnight? He assumed there would be little people in a morgue at that time. Maybe only a nightguard.

„We will not hasn’t anyone, right?“ Simon asked.

„Of course not.“ Brockmann said. He ripped open his plastic bag and took his overall out. „Put it over your clothes. When we get out we need to change quickly.“ Brockmann said and Simon nodded and began to climb into the overall. When he closed the zipper, which was cheap plastic piece Brockmann handed him a ski mask and began to put on the overall himself. He had to hold on to the table to keep his balance. Simon often forgot he was quite old. He seemed so physically fit, but he was feeling the age. Simon saw it in moments like this. He went over to the large bag and opened it completely, to see what else was inside. A set of vials was in there with various fluids. A sawed off shotgun and ammo. Knives. They were large survival knives like the army used them. Five of them. Snother two pistols, bigger than the Tokarev, but clearly eastern Euroepan in style. Handcuffs, tape and a first aid kit. Several plastic boxes were in there and Simon took one out. Roughly the size of handbag he opened it and inside was a tranquilizer pistol.

„Where did you get that stuff?“ Simon asked.

„It is a stash. We got those in all bigger cities. Fornby maintained most of them. I put that myself there in 1986.“ Brockmann said and sighed. He closed his overall.

„You got weapons all over Germany?“ Simon asked.

„Yeah, because of the RAF.“ Brockmann said. Simon looked at him.

„Yeah, right. They probably made traveling with guns risky, hm? All of Germany hunting for armed terrorists and such things. So you got the weapons on location in case you needed to kill someone.“ Simon said and he felt repulsed by the whole idea. This was more like a criminal organisation than an honorable society.

„Something.“ Brockmann said.

Simon looked at him. Of course. They had hunted monsters. Because back then there were monsters.

„Of course.“ Simon said. He felt Brockmann was more talkative today than usual. So he gave it ac shot. „You killed a lot of monsters?“ He asked.

„Yes.“ Brockmann replied only and went over to the bag. He took the black plastic box from Simon‘s hands and closed it, threw it in and closed the bag. Then he pushed it under the bed.

„So what now?“ Simon asked.

„Now comes the hard part. We wait.“ Brockmann said. He sat on the only seat and Simon sighed and took a bottle of water from the fridge. He drank and felt he was meant to be silent now. It suited him. He imagined a border and a young Brockmann aiming at an innocent man. Shivers ran down his back.