Page 17 of Nothing Watching

He had always known that this day would come, but he had hoped it would be much later. He had planned for it, of course, but he had never truly believed that he would be caught. That was because he had been very careful, trying not to leave a trace behind, never giving anyone a reason to suspect him.

As he walked, breathing deeply, he felt calmer again. Let them hunt for him. He was just one person among millions, and there was no reason why they should suspect him.

But he knew that he couldn’t take any chances. He needed to be careful, to watch his back, to be aware of his surroundings at all times.

The incident with last night’s woman was worrying him, nagging at his mind, and despair filled him as he thought about it. He’d been so hopeful, but it had ended in such a bad way. If only things had worked out differently. Worse still, she’d struggled hard, and although she’d managed to fight him off, he’d felt a painful tug while he was grappling with her, as if a couple of his beard hairs had snagged on something—perhaps her jewelry or sleeve button or watch strap—during that struggle.

That was not good, and now, as he walked, the idea was solidifying in his mind that he should shave his beard.

It was so much a part of him, but then again, identities could easily be remade.

He found himself at the end of the alley, and he turned right, walking quickly down the street. The buildings here were older, and the streets were narrower. This was his ideal hunting ground, places like this, and he knew already that this was where he would go tonight, to look for her.

But now, he had a different purpose in mind.

He made his way to a small barbershop, tucked away in a quiet corner of the street. The sound of the bell as he entered the shop drew the attention of the barber, who looked up from his work to greet him. The man was an older fellow, with a thick mustache and a warm smile.

“Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you today?” the barber asked.

“I need a shave, please,” he replied, his voice calm and measured.

“Very well, sir. Please take a seat.” The barber gestured toward a leather chair in the corner of the room.

As he sat, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The act of shaving his beard was a symbolic one. It was a way of shedding his old identity and embracing a new one. It was a way of starting fresh, of leaving behind the past and moving forward into a new, uncertain future.

The barber began his work, expertly lathering his face with a thick, white foam. The razor glinted in the light, and he closed his eyes, feeling the cool metal against his skin. It was a strange sensation, almost like a rebirth.

He had always been one step ahead of them, always one move ahead of the game. And he was determined to stay that way.

As the barber finished up, he opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror. The face that stared back at him was unfamiliar, stripped of its defining characteristic. He looked younger, and somehow more vulnerable. He wondered if anyone would recognize him now.

His face was smooth and unblemished, and he felt a sense of freedom that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He paid the barber and walked out into the street, feeling like a new man. Perhaps she would look at him differently when she saw him again.

The sun was setting now, and the streets were starting to empty.

Soon, it would be time to look for her again, and he had no doubt that he would find her again.

What happened next would be up to her, of course.

CHAPTER TEN

Juliette eased the car through the narrow streets, in search of the violent, recently paroled, Markus Schmidt. Looking around her, she saw this was not a nice part of town. On the eastern side of Berlin, a few buildings bore the scars of decades of conflict and separation—a trait that she knew extended to the entire eastern part of Germany, still economically trailing the west after the great divide. The apartments she was passing now were dilapidated and grim looking. Graffiti was everywhere, but its color didn’t bring any sense of relief to the endless grays of the walls they passed. Rather, it imbued a sense of threat.

There were still wire loops festooned over walls, but this time they were not to separate east from west, but rather to protect a row of warehouses in an area that clearly suffered from frequent break-ins. She stared at the wire as she passed, feeling unsettled by the sight.

Then, ahead of her, the apartment building she was looking for loomed, its bulk cutting out the light.

“I wouldn’t have thought somewhere like this existed in the city, or even in the country,” Wyatt murmured in surprise, as they climbed out.

“Luckily it’s not that common,” Juliette replied, trying to keep her tone neutral to disguise the unease she was feeling.

They approached the entrance of the building, a heavy iron door that looked like it hadn’t been maintained in years.

Juliette pushed the door open, and they stepped into a dimly lit lobby. The air was musty, and the smell of cigarettes lingered in the air.

“He’s on the third floor,” she said, checking the address details again. Not trusting the elevator, she headed for the stairs.

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