BETWEEN ALTENBERG and Zinnwald, where serpentine curves wound toward the ridge of the eastern Ore Mountains, Adam drove off at a rest stop. Two men were hunkered down at a table, one of whom Adam first took to be his garageman, because he was staring directly at him as if he recognized him.
Michael followed Adam into the woods. They stood side by side as they peed down the slope. From down below came a foul odor.
“I’ve still got one of Evelyn’s bags with me,” Michael said, not turning his head.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“You think?”
“Yep.”
“So what should I do?”
“It may be too late to do anything.”
“You think they may be taking pictures?”
“Those two guys are on discipline detail, they have to picnic here day after day.”
“Merde,” Michael said.
Returning from his car, Adam set the thermos and his bag of provisions on the wooden table. It was sticky, with a layer of dust and insects. The two men had retreated to their white Lada.
“It’d be better if you’d join the picnic,” Adam whispered as he unscrewed the thermos.
Michael laid a bag on the bench and put Evelyn’s straw hat over it. “She had it in her suitcase.”
A gust of wind rustled through the pines and firs, the tips of the needles were brown and bare.
“Damn, it stinks,” Adam said.
Michael pulled an unfiltered cigarette from the pack with his lips and flipped open a silver lighter. The flame was way too high again.
“Is that coffee?” Michael blew his smoke above Adam’s head.
“Want some?”
“Real coffee?” Michael sniffed at the thermos bottle.
“It’s good,” Adam said. Michael cautiously took the cup and sipped.
“That was a stupid move on Evi’s part. They’re sure to search it.”
“Mona said they wouldn’t be interested in me because they’re more concerned about you folks. I have no idea what to expect.”
“I spotted those two guys too late, I shouldn’t have stopped here.”
“And what do I say if they find the bag?”
“A hitchhiker’s. She forgot it.”
“I don’t know if we’re allowed to do that.”
“What?”
“Pick up hitchhikers.”
“So what. Did you look inside?”
Michael shook his head and passed the cup back.
“It’s the genuine article.”
Adam poured another cup.
“Thanks, that’ll hold me till tomorrow.”
“There’s plenty.”
With the cigarette still between his lips, Michael set his hands to his hips and moved his upper body in circles. Then he laid his hands on his shoulders and rotated his arms. The Lada with the two men drove past them, heading toward the border. Finally Michael stretched his arms straight ahead as if for swimming practice. His fingers trembled.
“Surely you don’t think you’re the trafficker type, do you?”
“I smoke too much.”
“Whatever you do it’s the wrong thing,” Adam said, putting on Evelyn’s hat. He picked up Evelyn’s gym bag—it was light as a feather—and stuffed it behind the driver’s seat.
“Don’t you want to look inside?”
“Evi wouldn’t like that.”
“Got it.”
“Did she say anything? About me, I mean?”
“Just to Mona.”
“And?”
“That there was some other woman, you and—”
“I’d designed a suit for her. And it was so damn hot—Evi went off the deep end.”
Michael nodded. “But what if they do a search?”
Adam shrugged. “Don’t think about it. They’re like animals. They can smell your fear, they’ve got great noses for fear.”
“Killer instinct, huh?” Michael asked.
“Where are you three headed?”
“For the Plattensee—wait—Lake Balaton, that’s what you guys call it. I promised Mona.”
“Let’s meet at the first rest stop across the border,” Adam said.
“And if you don’t get through?”
“Then I’ll take off for Warnemünde.”
“And Evi’s bag?”
“You’ll be able to see what happens. And remember, you are a free man and visiting the homelands of the proletariat, your natural allies. And don’t drive over sixty in towns or ninety on the highway.”
Adam took out the box with the turtle, opened the trunk, and put it back there. “Sorry, Elfi.” He closed the lid. “We need to move out!” he shouted, and pointed back down the road.
A container truck was creeping around the curve, a long line of cars behind it.
At the border station he pulled up behind the white Lada with the two men and Dresden plates. He turned off his engine, got out, and lit a cigar. With his back to the driver’s door, he closed his eyes. It was definitely cooler up here.
Whenever the line moved, Adam just released the hand brake and pushed his car in the direction of the border, the red Passat behind him. He noticed too late that it was two women who were checking his lane.