Kurt arrived in Zurich a very angry man.
The corridor leading from the satellite terminal to the main hub of the airport was almost a quarter of a mile long. It ran beneath several runways, a gently curving tunnel of spotless white stretching ahead as far as he could see. He did not need to walk. A smoothly running automatic walkway sprang lightly beneath his feet. Classical music played soothing strains along the entire distance. Instead of windows, enormous backlit displays advertised all the things that before had remained beyond his wildest dreams, and which now were within his grasp. All of them. From the gold watch to the lakefront resort to the mountain ski holiday to the luxurious clothes to the rented sports car to the private helicopter service. All of it could now be his.
And yet all he could think of was that strange American and the insanity of his final words. It consumed him.
He felt like pounding his fists against the gleaming white walls.
Just when he should have been readying himself for the good life, a barb had been wedged in his flesh at heart level. With every step he came closer to losing control, to shouting his unexplained rage to the unseen heavens. Try as he might, he could not shake off the words. They rang in his head over and over and over, lancing at his reason in ways he could neither understand nor stop. He felt helpless, caught up in something that made no sense to him at all.
The tunnel’s end appeared in the distance. Kurt picked up his single valise and marched forward, shrugging hard at the resounding pressure in his mind and heart. He would leave this barbed message behind, it and the messenger both, and enter the new life that awaited him. The life he had always dreamed of. The life he deserved.