فصل 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A note of thanks

At two o’clock the next afternoon Hiro was sitting with Schubert in the Funkturm Restaurant, halfway up the famous TV and radio tower in the Spandau area of Berlin. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and from up there, you could see far across the city - huge roads busy with traffic, parks, even lakes and forests far away outside the city. In the distance a jet was just climbing into the air from the airport; it seemed to stick in the sky without moving.

‘This restaurant is famous for its seafood,’ Schubert said, looking at the menu. ‘Why don’t we go for that?’

‘It’s very expensive,’ Hiro answered, noticing the prices. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Schubert said quickly. ‘Someone very rich is paying. Let’s make the most of it!’ Without discussing it any more, Schubert gave the waiter their order. When the waiter had gone, Schubert turned to the window. ‘There. Berlin’s not so bad, is it?’ he said, pointing at the view.

Hiro was about to answer when Schubert’s mobile phone rang. Schubert listened quietly to a message for half a minute or so, then excused himself and went off to a quiet part of the restaurant in order to continue the conversation.

While Schubert was gone, Hiro thought back over what had happened that morning. They had spent most of the time in Schubert’s head office. ‘The Bundesamt fur Verfassungsschutz - Home Security,’ Schubert had said by way of explanation. There, Hiro had spent two hours in front of a computer screen looking at photos of known criminals. The only man Hiro could definitely recognise was the driver who had picked him up with Meier. Hiro was disappointed, but Schubert wasn’t. Once they found this man, he said darkly, it would be simple to get Meier and anyone else.

After that Schubert had said it was time for lunch. Schubert had put a blue emergency light on the roof of his BMW and they’d raced through the streets of Berlin, laughing like a pair of silly children. The journey had made Hiro feel happier than he had been for weeks - and very important.

Now, sitting up there in the restaurant, drink in hand, Hiro found it hard to believe all the things that had happened. He felt so safe and relaxed now, looking out across the city. Had the Shark really tried to kill him? It seemed like a dream. Had it all really happened?

As if in answer to Hiro’s thoughts, Schubert came back to the table and sat down. He looked at Hiro before speaking.

‘He’s dead,’ he said.

Hiro was confused for a moment.

‘Our friend, the Shark. He died an hour ago.’

‘Oh,’ Hiro said. It felt as if a cold hand had run down his back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ Schubert replied quickly. ‘The man was a professional assassin. He made his living from death. He nearly killed you too.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Hiro answered.

‘Anyway, let’s give him his real name. I’ve just been told he was actually a Norwegian by the name of Karl-Henrik Johansen. Interpol, the International Police, have apparently been looking for him for years. He was wanted for eleven murders - one of them the president of a certain country in South America.’

Hiro didn’t know what to say. He kept remembering the last time he had seen the Shark, as the old man was being carried to the ambulance, his face white with pain.

‘Of course, it was because he came from abroad that he needed to collect a gun from Meier at the Brandenburg Gate. It would be much too dangerous to try and bring a gun into the country.’

Hiro went silent. Every mention now of the gun reminded Hiro of the young hotel worker.

Schubert was watching Hiro carefully. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked quietly. ‘Is it the boy?’

Hiro nodded. ‘I keep remembering…’

Schubert reached out an arm. ‘Try not to think about that.’ Very gently, he added, ‘If it helps at all, I can tell you he didn’t suffer - he was killed immediately - the shots went through his heart.’

Neither man spoke for a while.

Hiro tried to think about something else. When he felt calmer again he said, ‘I’m surprised the Shark decided to continue with the assassination plan after what happened.’

‘Yes, it was a bad mistake.’ Schubert looked at Hiro. ‘I think he didn’t like losing to a kid…’ Schubert seemed embarrassed for a moment, then went on quickly, ‘I’m sorry. I’m not suggesting you’re a kid - but I guess the Shark thought of you like that. You were brilliant, you know,’ Schubert added. ‘What you did was very, very special.’

Now it was Hiro’s turn to be embarrassed. Fortunately, at that moment the waiter arrived, so Hiro didn’t need to answer. A huge plate of seafood was placed in front of him - Hiro suddenly realised he was terrifically hungry.

‘Guten Appetit’, Schubert said.

‘Itadakimasu’ Hiro replied.

They both ate happily in silence for a short time. Then Schubert sat back and looked closely at Hiro.

‘Hiro, I need to talk to you about Mr Schmidt,’ he began. ‘You’ve been so extraordinarily brave it’s only fair you should know something about him. But I’m very sorry, I still can’t tell you his real name. I will say this though: the person whose life you saved is very, very important.’

‘He’s in the government?’ Hiro asked.

Schubert looked directly at Hiro. ‘I can’t say. But he’s someone of the very highest importance.’

‘And you can’t tell me why the Shark was hired to kill him either, I suppose…’ Hiro said.

Schubert gave a weak smile. ‘Important people make important enemies. We think Meier’s men have been trying to kill Schmidt for months. After an earlier plan failed, it seems they decided to hire the best - that is, the Shark.’

Hiro was confused. ‘Then why… why was Schmidt in a hotel with only you there - why was he there in secret?’ Schubert looked embarrassed again. After a moment he sat forward. ‘Sometimes, Hiro, a man like Mr Schmidt has part of his life he wishes to keep private. That’s why he meets his friend in a hotel. That’s why I was the only bodyguard at the hotel. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

Hiro suddenly remembered the blonde woman who had opened the door of Schmidt’s hotel room. ‘You mean…’ he said slowly.

‘Somehow Meier and his men found out about Mr Schmidt’s…’ Schubert searched for the right word. ‘Mr Schmidt’s arrangement. When they did, they saw an opportunity to kill him.’

Hiro stared at Schubert. The man had told him as much as he could. Hiro nodded. ‘I think I understand. Thank you for telling me.’

Schubert shook his head. ‘No, no, we must thank you.’ He gave a little cough. ‘Actually, while we’re on that subject, I have something for you.’ He reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope and held it for a moment.

‘Mr Schmidt asked me to give you this,’ Schubert said and handed the envelope across.

Hiro looked at it for a moment or two.

‘Go on, open it,’ Schubert said.

Hiro did as he was told. Inside there was a second envelope and a small hand-written note. In English, the note read:

‘Thank you so much for all you have done for me. You are a true samurai. Enjoy your trip.’

The note was signed with the single word: ‘Schmidt’.

Hiro put down the note and opened the second envelope. Inside were ten completely new five-hundred-euro notes.