Inside the Audi, the atmosphere was tense. The old man couldn’t sleep; the younger man was shaken. The driver, eyes darting from catseye to headlight, was nervous. He’d taken several wrong turnings before getting on to the E22 autobahn at Lübeck, northeast of the port of Hamburg. Soon the bleak city lights and industrial outskirts of Hamburg itself filled the windscreen: not a welcoming sight.
Turning sharply off the ring-road in Wandsbek, they headed uncertainly down the wide Wandsbeker Marktstrasse towards the Altstadt and the city centre. The road was clear and the pavements were empty. As they passed the old Lutheran church in the Jacobs-Park, dimly lit by an orange spotlight, the driver looked nervously to the rear-view mirror.
‘Polizei.’
‘Continue.’
The younger man turned to look back. The green-and-white BMW was gaining ground fast. By the time they’d reached the junction at the Mühlendamm, it was tailgating the Audi. Hands sweating, the driver saw two policemen, one taking their registration number, the other making a radio call. He rubbed the back of his neck. His knees felt stiff. He bit his lip and gripped the steering wheel as if it were the last link with life.
His nerve broke. The car squealed to a stop outside the Marienkrankenhaus hospital. Unable to brake in time, the police skidded into the Audi’s rear. The passengers lurched forwards, the old man’s nose smashing into the driver’s seat, spurting blood over his grey moustache.
‘What are you doing, you fool!’ The younger man gripped the driver’s shoulder.
While the policemen were recovering from the shock, the Audi driver hammered into reverse and ground the police car into a lamp-post. Its right bumper wrenched into the wheel cavity; the car was crippled.
The Audi driver cut his lights, revved the engine and stormed into first. He U-turned up the one-way Mühlendamm and headed north, dodging startled traffic up Schürbeker Strasse to the busy junction with Mundsburger Damm.
‘Stop! This is insane! What are you doing?’ The younger man pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and thrust it under the nose of the old man. The old man said nothing.
Deaf to all entreaties, the driver slammed his foot down; he had no work permit. Deportation was unthinkable.
Racing south down Mundsburger Damm, they were soon in sight of the glittering Aussenalster Lake. Ignoring a red light, the driver screeched into Buchtstrasse’s narrow funnel and skidded to a halt outside a department store.
‘I get new plates.’
Hurling himself out amid the howling of sirens, he dashed round to the boot of the car.
The old man looked at his friend. While the driver tried frantically to screw the plates to the back of the Audi, the men flung open the back doors and disappeared into the shadows. The younger man pointed. ‘This way! Do you have the case?’
The old man nodded.
The driver shot up from behind the open boot. ‘Hey! What about my money? It’s a long way from Giessen!’
The men were nearly at the end of the street. ‘You’ll get your reward! God be with you!’
They rounded the corner into Sechslingspforte.
‘Just keep walking. How’s your nose?’
‘Not broken, but I…’ The old man started coughing. ‘No… no… It’s all right. I’m not sick. It’s just that… Do you know the saying from the Christian Bible?’ He stopped, inviting the younger man to look around at the display lights in the shop windows; the neon glitter high above the hotels and fashionable stores; the fairy-lit floating restaurants on the lake; the yellow street lights, and the beams of passing cars. ‘See! There is light everywhere, but we walk in the cold shadows.’
‘Is that it?’
‘No! It says: “The birds have their nests; the fox has his lair. But the son of man has nowhere to lay his head.”’