The garden was quiet, lit considerably by the full moon. Some half empty wine glasses and plates of unfinished food littered the benches and tables. The plants were beautiful, meticulously kept despite the fact that it was the middle of winter.

He wandered through another door at the other end of the garden. It led to a long hallway deeper into the headquarters. Only some of the lamps lining the walls were lit, the end of the hallway disappearing into the darkness. Doors lined the walls, but when he tried to open one, it was locked.

He walked down the hallway. He passed large, impressive paintings of soldiers, leaders, and battles that he had never heard of. The flickering lamplight made it look as though the subjects were moving within their frames.

As he approached a corner, he heard a voice coming from the left. “Are you sure, Humbert?”

Schmidt poked his head around the corner, making sure not to be seen. The silhouettes of General Krüger and Captain Bösch stood in the middle of the hall a few meters away, their figures easily identifiable.

“No thank you, Aaron,” Bösch replied. “I have had far too much to drink tonight as it is.”

“You were never one to turn down a good drink,” Krüger replied. “I doubt you’ve had wine as good as this in your entire life. It comes from the Emperor’s personal collection, after all. Not to mention the food.”

“Again, thank you, but I must decline. There is much to do, and not nearly enough time to do it. I have wasted too much time at this party as it is.”

“I insist.”

“If you keep insisting, I’m going to get irritated.”

“What happened to you? You can’t even loosen up for one night? The Beans haven't advanced in months, they’re not going to start again tomorrow. Come and have a drink with me, you deserve it.”

Bösch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I appreciate this, but I must decline. Good night.” He turned to leave.

Krüger grabbed his arm. Bösch stopped, though he didn’t turn to face him. “Humbert…” Krüger’s voice was hard. “Humbert, I just need to talk with you.”

“You can talk with me here.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“And you know why I don’t want your drink.”

“Do you not trust me?”

Bösch was silent.

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t think I can trust anyone anymore.”

“No. I want to hear you say it. Say it.” There was a pause. “Say it, Humbert.”

“I don’t trust you, Aaron.” Bösch shook off Krüger’s hand, keeping his back to him. “No hard feelings, right?”

Krüger smiled. “No hard feelings. We are at war, after all.”

Bösch began walking toward Schmidt. Krüger turned and walked in the opposite direction. Schmidt ducked his head back behind the corner. He wouldn’t have enough time to hide; there wasn’t any place to hide. He stood as still as he could in the dim hallway, hoping Bösch wouldn’t notice him.

Bösch turned the corner. His face was pale. Schmidt held his breath.

Bösch noticed Schmidt out of the corner of his eye. A look of surprise, then fear, then confusion passed over his face as he glanced back down the hallway where Krüger had been. He was gone. Bösch grabbed Schmidt’s shoulders and pushed him against the wall, in a hurried whisper asking, “What are you doing here, Barnabas?”

“Uh, I was—”

“Keep your voice down!”

“I was going for a walk,” Schmidt whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“How much of that did you hear?”

“What are you talking about, I didn’t—”

“You’re a terrible liar. Tell me what you heard.”

“Uh… something about getting a drink with Krüger. That’s it.”

Bösch sighed, releasing his grip on Schmidt’s shoulders, though he remained tense. “God…”

They stood in silence for a moment. There was a painting of a battle on the opposite wall. It showed a company of soldiers standing on the shore of a half-frozen river, a city burning on the other side. The fire was painted with striking orange and yellows, the flickering light making the black smoke billowing from the city seem to float upwards. There was a small golden plaque under the painting, but Schmidt couldn’t make out what it said.

Bösch spoke. “Sofia’s in the city. You should speak with her before you leave.”

“I… I don’t know if—”

“That wasn’t a God damned request, Barnabas. Do it. You might not get the chance again.”

Schmidt began to feel himself get angry, and he hated himself for it. He had months to think about his last conversation with Bösch, and despite the fact that he knew he had overreacted, that he wanted to make things right with Bösch and Sofia, he couldn’t stop himself. He balled his fists. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bösch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just know that you’ll regret it.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“You’re right. It’ll be hers.”

He turned away from Bösch, his shoulders tense, leaving him standing in the middle of the hallway, his anger melting into a ball of shame in his chest. He only hoped Bösch didn’t see his tears in the dim lamplight.

He walked the halls of the military headquarters for so long that he lost track of time. When he finally returned to the foyer where he left Rob and Sauer, his face had been dry for a while. He smiled halfheartedly, and joined them as they made their way towards the exit.

“Oh, God damn it!” Rob said as they left the headquarters. “I was so busy talking that I forgot to get anything to eat!”

“Me too,” Schmidt replied.

“I did not eat anything, either,” Sauer said. “It is a shame; that food looked delicious.”

“Want to try and find something to eat with us?” Rob asked Sauer.

“Sure, my treat, if anyone is still selling food these days,” Sauer replied.

“I’m… not that hungry,” Schmidt said. “You guys go without me.”

“Are you sure, Barry? You know you’re passing up free food here, right? Food that’s not rations”

“I know. I’ll talk to you later.”

Schmidt walked away, leaving Rob and Sauer standing in the middle of the dark street in front of Stuttgart’s military headquarters.