The Mercedes lunged forward with squealing tires, tore over the median strip and the streetcar tracks, and sped along the Friedrichsring in fruitless pursuit of the ambulance. I still couldn’t see the other young men. None of the people strolling in the park stopped: nobody was surprised, nobody spoke to anyone, nobody asked what had happened. It had all happened so quickly.

I sat down on the bench where the Nägelsbachs had been sitting and lit one of my rare cigarettes. Rare cigarettes don’t taste good. They taste like one’s first cigarette, which doesn’t taste good, either. In half an hour Samarin would regain consciousness in a windowless storeroom in the hospital, laced into a straitjacket and strapped to the bed. I would negotiate with him-we knew each other. Welker insisted that Samarin be exchanged for his children. He wanted Samarin to experience his defeat to the fullest. “Otherwise he’ll never leave me in peace.”

I found Samarin with his eyes closed. There wasn’t enough space for a chair; I leaned against the wall and waited. He was still in a straitjacket and strapped to the bed.

He opened his eyes, and I noticed that he’d been keeping them shut only in order to feel, hear, and sniff out my mood and state of mind. He looked at me stonily but said nothing.

“Welker wants his children back. He will exchange you for his children. And he wants you out of his life and his bank.”

Samarin smiled. “So that all will be right with the world once more. Those up there among themselves, and we down here among ourselves.”

I didn’t say anything.

“How long do you intend to keep me here?”

I shrugged. “As long as necessary. This room isn’t used. If you make trouble, you’ll be pumped full of pills and dragged before a judge, who’ll have you committed to a psychiatric ward. Though you should really be dragged to court for murder. But that can come later.”

“If I don’t return to my men soon they will harm the children. That was the plan: if something happens to me, something will happen to the children.”

I shook my head. “Think about it. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Philipp, Füruzan, and her colleague were in the nurses’ room drinking cognac. Füruzan was fluttering adoringly around Philipp. The other nurse was thrilled at having been taken along on a mission that seemed important and dangerous, even though she didn’t quite understand it. Philipp had regained his debonair swagger, kept going over the escapade with glee, and was bubbling over with excitement. “His look when he felt the prick of the needle! And the way Frau Nägelsbach lay on the ground! How fast and smoothly it went! And the wild drive with sirens blaring!”

Welker relaxed only gradually. At the water tower he had sat down silently beside me on the bench. A few minutes later we got in the taxi the Nägelsbachs had sent us from the taxi stand. Before we had the driver take us to the hospital we drove through the streets of Mannheim until we were certain that nobody was following us. Throughout the trip, Welker had sat pale and silent. Now he was listening to Philipp as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. “Can I have a cognac, too?”

When the hour was up, I went back to Samarin.

“What about my money?”

“Your money?”

“Okay, only part of it is mine. That’s why I need it. My… my business partners will not be too happy if their money’s gone.”

“If you will disappear more reliably with the money than you would without it, I’m certain Welker won’t mind your taking it. I’ll ask him.” I left and talked to Welker.

Welker recoiled. “Good God! The last thing I want is his dirty money! If I had found it, I’d have given it to charity. Once it’s gone, it’s gone: let him come tomorrow and take it.”

I reported this to Samarin. He looked stunned. “That’s what Welker said? The meanest and most miserly man I know?”

“That’s what he said.”

Samarin closed his eyes.

“You need more time? I’ll come back later.”

Philipp wanted to head out with the others to eat, drink, and celebrate. “We’ll go now, and you can follow us later. The Nägelsbachs will be coming, too. When Samarin finally plays along, it’ll still be hours before the children get here. You don’t have to stand guard over him. He won’t get away, and if he kicks up a fuss the night nurse will give him an injection.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll stay here and maybe catch an hour or two of sleep.”

I sat in the nurses’ room and heard the others’ laughter along the corridor. Then the elevator doors closed, swallowing their laughter, and there was silence except for the soft hum of the central heating. We had decided to tell Samarin as late as possible the time and place of the exchange so he would have just enough time to tell his people where to go. For now he was only to instruct them to bring the children to Mannheim.

“I’ve got to pee,” he said when I returned to his room.

“I can’t untie you.”

Though he was wearing the straitjacket and was strapped to the bed, he looked strong and dangerous. I went to the nurses’ room and found a urine bottle. He turned his head away as I unbuttoned his pants, pulled down his underwear, took out his penis, and held it as best I could into the opening of the bottle.

“Go ahead,” I said.

When I had zipped him up again he looked at me. “Thanks.” After a while he asked me, “Who am I supposed to have murdered?”

“Oh, come on now. First Welker’s wife, and then… Not that I can prove it, but I am certain that someone frightened Schuler to death. Whether it was you or your mafiosi hardly matters.”

“I had known Stephanie since I was a little boy. Schuler taught me reading, writing, arithmetic, and geography. All about the Celtic Ring Wall on Heiligenberg, the Roman Bridge over the Neckar River, the Heilig-Geist Church that was torched by Mélac.”

“That doesn’t make the murders any better.”

He waited for a while and then asked: “And what kind of connection am I supposed to have with the Mafia?”

“Stop playing games! It’s hardly a secret that you’ve been laundering money for the Russian Mafia!”

“And that’s supposed to make me and my people mafiosi?” He scoffed. “You really have no idea what’s going on. Do you think Welker would still be alive if we were the Russian Mafia? Or you, for that matter? Or the bunch of clowns who’ve tied me up here? I was raised under the thumb of Weller and Welker and will never again allow myself to be under anyone’s thumb. Yes, I launder money. And yes, I don’t care who I do it for-just like any other banker. Yes, my men are Russians and professional. As for me”-he scoffed again-“I am my own boss.”

He closed his eyes. Just as I thought he wouldn’t say anything more he said: “I didn’t like the families, neither the Wellers nor the Welkers. Bertram’s grandfather and Stephanie’s mother had heart. But as for Bertram’s father… and Bertram himself… I ought to have killed the two of them.”

“Didn’t Bertram’s father raise you?”

He laughed. “ Siberia would have been better.”

“What about Welker’s kids?”

“What about them? No one’s touched a hair on their heads. They think my men are their bodyguards and show off with them. The girl even flirts with them.”

“Are you going to call your men? So they’ll bring the kids here?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ll have them set out right away. The exchange can take place tonight; I don’t want to stay here like this any longer.”

I found his cell phone, dialed the number he told me, and held the phone to his ear. “Speak to them in German!”

He gave them a few brief instructions. Then he asked me: “Where is the exchange to take place?”

“We’ll tell you once your men are in Mannheim. By when can they make it?”

“In five hours.”

“Good. We’ll talk again in five hours.”

I asked him if I should leave the lights on or off. He wanted to lie in the dark.