A car hooted its horn, and Keller woke with a start. He had spent the night in the entrance hall of an apartment building, wrapped in his greatcoat, his holdall under his arm.
It was not yet daylight, and his knee was throbbing. Pain radiated down to his ankle and up to his groin. He tried to shake off the chill of a night spent without shelter. His back was so stiff, it took him a while to get back on his feet.
It had stopped snowing, and the temperature was some way below zero.
He felt his knee. It was swollen again. A knee like this, he thought, will never heal.
A handful of poppy seeds.
No, two would be better.
He filled his meerschaum pipe and leaned back against the wall, watching the few cars in the street and waiting for the poppy to take effect.
As he smoked, he smiled.
He had not felt this well for decades. For the first time since hearing the Voice, Keller dared to think about redemption. Killing Herr Wegener had been like making up for a mistake he had made many years earlier.
Not saving little Elisabeth.
It was as if he had somehow gone back in time and the paths of the present and the past had crossed, allowing him to protect, if not Lissy, then at least Marlene and the life she carried in her womb, by killing the man who was threatening her.
Miracle and mystery.
Maybe that was how it had been. Or maybe not.
Maybe it was the opium that made him think so. Or maybe not.
Keller heaved the holdall onto his shoulder and set off, limping, towards the bus station.