“Then I will take great care of you when you get here.” He paused. “But if that’s the case… surely you won’t be able to travel so soon. It might take weeks for your passport to arrive.”
I smiled. “I have a passport—I got it a few years ago when Diana and I were thinking about a break in Italy. Something came up and we didn’t go.” It sat in my desk drawer, stiff and unused.
“Thank goodness for that.”
We said our goodbyes and I hung up. I typed a message to Diana.
Took your advice. Going to see Prof Mueller September 1.
Less than a minute later, her reply pinged back.Wonderful. Just what you need.
Right then I needed an end to my turmoil, and a new beginning.
I hoped I’d find the latter in Berlin.
Chapter Five
September 1
Kieran
My passport hadits first stamp, I’d collected my suitcase from the carousel, and I’d followed the exit signs into the main area of the terminal. Shops filled one side of the wide hallway that was lined with dark wood panels, and taxi drivers strolled here and there, touting for fares.
I stood there, clutching the handle of my suitcase, trying not to look as lost as I felt, and failing miserably.
People moved around me, confident, unhurried, as if they all knew exactly where they were going. Signs hung overhead in German and English, but somehow that didn’t make it any easier to decide which way to turn.
I’d done the research. I’d read Karl’s notes. I knew not to go with any of the taxi drivers who were gazing at me with keen interest. I also knew there were trains from the airport into the city.
I just had no idea where to find them.
“Are you okay? You look a little lost.” The voice came from my right, with the faintest trace of an accent.
I turned, and?—
Whoa.
A striking man stood there. He was tall, with broad shoulders and grey hair swept back from his forehead. His moustache and beard were a blend of dark grey and silver. Blue eyes looked me up and down. His expensive-looking suit was a damn good fit, and he wore his black shirt open at the collar. A messenger bag was slung over one shoulder, and he gripped the handle of a small suitcase.
“I—” I let out a small, self-conscious laugh. “Yes. I mean—no. I’m trying to find the train to the main station.”
The man smiled. “I’ll show you. I’m going that way too.”
Relief washed through me. “Thank you.” Then a thought occurred to me. “How did you know I was English?”
He smiled, then pointed to the handle of my suitcase. “Your flight label says Manchester. It seemed a safe bet.”
Clearly an observant man.
He beckoned. “Come with me.”
I followed him to a bank of lifts, then down to a lower level. The man moved with quiet confidence, clearly familiar with the space. He gestured at a row of ticket machines.
“You can buy your ticket there.”
I went over to one of them, hesitating for a moment before selecting English on the screen. “Which one do I need?”
“The airport to Hauptbahnhof.” The man leaned closer, pointing. “This one.”