A German Requiem (Book Three of the Berlin Noir Trilogy) by Philip Kerr

By Philip Kerr

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It suddenly occurred to me that my hands and face were covered with the Ivan’s blood, not to mention my own. I must have looked like Julius Caesar’s last toga. Ducking into a nearby alley I washed myself with some snow. It seemed to remove not only the blood but the skin as well, and probably left my face looking every bit as red as before. My icy toilette completed, I walked on, as smartly as I was able, and reached home without further adventure. It had gone midnight by the time I shouldered open my front door — at least it was easier getting in than out.

You must have something. Think. ’ He lowered his head and uttered another sigh as he tried to recall a possession that might be of some value. ’ ‘Yes,’ he said gloomily, his eyes glazing over for a moment. This was sufficiently articulate. Things did not look good for Frau Novak. ‘Wait a moment,’ he said, dipping his hand inside the breast of his coat, and coming up with a gold fountain-pen. ’ He handed me the pen. ‘It’s a Parker. ’ I quickly appraised its worth. ‘About fourteen hundred dollars on the black market,’ I said.

I think I must have pulled something,’ he grunted, rubbing his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry about that,“ I said, and stood aside to let him in. ’There’s been quite a bit of subsidence in the building. ‘ I showed him into the sitting-room. ’Still, we’re not too badly off here. We’ve had some new glass, and the roof seems to keep out the rain. ‘ I pointed to the only armchair and resumed my position on the couch. The man put down his briefcase, took off his bowler hat and sat down with an exhausted sigh.

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