Chapter Text
“I’m sure you’ll have quite a comfortable stay,” Carl said as he handed the room keys to his newest tenant—an older man named Rainer Jansen. He was an ex-military man, discharged honourably when he was injured in the war, who’d been evicted from his last home and needed a place to stay for a few weeks while he got back on his feet. His record was clean as far as Carl could tell.
So Carl had looked into him a little. Was that wrong? It kept his family safe. It wasn’t spying like he’d been doing before.
“Thank you, Mr Stein,” Jansen said, taking the keys. “You’re very kind to let me stay here.”
“It’s no trouble.” Carl waved his hand vaguely.
Jansen nodded.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Carl said.
“I shall.” Jansen adjusted his crutch under his arm. “Thank you again.”
Carl watched him disappear inside his room, the door closing behind him. He placed his hands on his hips and looked around the hallway, at the other doors which contained mostly empty rooms. It seemed not many people needed temporary safe houses as they once did. He had a handful of long-term tenants still staying here, and so far they hadn’t caused any trouble.
Not that he knew of, anyway.
Carl shook his head to himself and started down the stairs to the basement. He was sure they were all behaving themselves.
Still, he had to wonder…
No. It was fine.
He entered the basement apartment to find Martha paying with the new dolls she’d gotten for her birthday. She looked up and smiled at her father—one of her front teeth was missing.
Carl smiled back and went to his office. With the cameras now long since taken down, his desk contained merely files instead of computer monitors. He sat down at it and pulled up the building inspection papers he’d received that morning and began reading through them. They’d passed once again. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Putting the papers down, he leaned against the desk and glanced around at his files. His eyes landed on the small envelope that had come for them a few days ago. He reached for it and plucked it from the pile, opening the already torn seal and sliding the letter out of the envelope.
Patrick had made it to Agloe safely. He was currently staying in an apartment block on the outskirts of town with some of his friends from university. His work hadn’t started yet, but he’d written that it would soon, that he was excited for it.
Carl smiled to himself as he reread the letter. His son was now a man, taking the initiative, fulfilling his responsibilities. Even if there was still a hole in the apartment where their son used to be, he and Anna knew this had to happen eventually.
Carl put the letter back and got up from his desk, walking to the door. Martha was still happily having a tea party with her dolls, but she looked up when she noticed Carl. “Dad? Do you want to play with me?”
“Not right now, Martha,” Carl said. “Another time.”
“Okay. Hey, dad?”
Carl stopped by the table. “Yes, Martha?”
Martha bit her bottom lip, smile disappearing. “Do you think Patrick will come back?”
“I…” Carl hesitated. “I’m sure he’ll come back to visit, yes.”
“I miss him.” Martha looked down at her dolls. “Even though it’s only been a few days, I already miss him.”
“Your mother and I miss him too,” Carl said. “But he had to leave eventually.”
“I know. And I’ll have to leave too, right?”
Carl smiled. “Not for a long time, baby.”
“Okay.” Martha nodded.
Carl continued on to the kitchen, passing Patrick’s room on his way. His bed was still there, mattress stripped bare, the wardrobe slightly ajar and empty.
Carl turned away.
Anna came up to him as Carl was washing the dishes after finishing his lunch. “The radio’s broken,” she said plainly.
“You want me to fix it?” Carl guessed.
“You’re the repair expert.”
Carl snorted. “Hardly. I just follow the instructions.”
Anna shook her head. “Well, if you’d rather we call someone and have them do it…”
“No, I’ll do it,” Carl sighed. “Let me run to the store and purchase a repair kit.”
“You’re a real life-saver, Carl.” Anna touched his arm.
“It’s a radio, Anna.”
“It keeps us up to date with the news in real time!”
Carl chuckled and shook his head.
Fifteen minutes later, Carl was on his way back home with the repair kit in hand. He turned the corner onto Krushvice and approached the apartment block—only to discover a man hovering outside. He wore a long coat and his hands were shoved in its pockets.
Carl halted in his tracks only momentarily, but the man had already seen him. Something about him was familiar, but Carl couldn’t imagine where he’d seen him before.
Taking a deep breath, Carl stepped closer. “Can I help you?”
“You’re Carl Stein, yes?” the man asked.
Carl narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”
“Unimportant for now,” said the man. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Something occurred to Carl at that moment. “Are you the man who called me?” he asked suspiciously.
“Called you?” The man shook his head. “No, not at all. I don’t know who called you. What did they say?” He seemed particularly interested all of a sudden.
“Nothing important,” Carl said quickly.
The man sighed impatiently. “Well, that is your right if you don’t want to tell me.”
“What do you want?” Carl asked.
“I’m here to offer you a proposal.”
“What kind of proposal?”
The man looked around, then leaned in. “An opportunity to help clean up this country.”
Carl drew back, confused. “What? Clean up?”
“Indeed.”
“Isn’t that already happening? I mean, hasn’t it already happened? The government sympathisers have already been rounded up and jailed, as I recall,” Carl said.
“Things don’t happen that easily, Carl Stein,” said the man. “One can’t exterminate a rat infestation in one night.”
“What are you saying?”
“There’s still rats running about, if you know what I mean.” The man met his eyes. “They’re slippery little things when they want to be. It’s proving difficult to get rid of them all.”
Carl swallowed. “What do you want from me?”
“Your help.”
Carl’s heart stopped. Was this man part of the New Tomorrow movement, then? “What exactly would I be getting myself into?” he cautioned.
“That will be revealed if you agree to help,” the man said.
Carl glanced at the apartment building, then back at the man. “I have to think about this.”
“Fair enough.” The man reached into his coat pocket and Carl instinctively tensed, but all the man did was pull out a small card. He handed this to Carl. “Just don’t take too long.”
Carl took the card in his free hand and flipped it over. Ewald Thorn, it read. Underneath was a phone number. Carl looked back up at the man—presumably this Ewald Thorn—but he was already walking away.
A light drizzle began, the tepid drops hitting Carl’s skin like pinpricks. Tucking the card in his pocket, he started up the steps to the apartment building. He turned back, peered down the street, but Thorn had already vanished.