The bells of St. Johannis rang out Seven O'clock, each hour's peal a mournful warning of a gray wet day. The final tolling died out and Sean woke with Petra's arm draped over his shoulder. Her face was buried in his neck and her leg straddled his hips. This would have passed for love in any book he had ever read and would do so now, because even Tammi had never slept this close to him. He would have loved to stay in bed, except he had a flight to catch and extricated himself from Petra's tangle of limbs, then slipped out of bed to get dressed in his black suit.
Strangely there was no noise from outside.
No cars or buses.
No jets overhead.
Sean thought he had gone deaf, but distinctly heard Petra's breathing.
He went out on the terrace. He leaned through the pelting rain and peered over the edge of the terrace. Mittelweg was devoid of human activity.
He instantly thought that the Soviets or USA had released a nerve virus killing the rest of humanity. It was that quiet and Sean why Petra and he had survived the heavenly holocaust. They were a strange choice for Adam and Eve, then again God's sense of humor tended to run on the cruel side. He was about to go back inside and break the news of the apocalypse to Petra, when an accordianized bus appeared out of the rain and he laughed to himself. He had been using his fear of global annihilation to reinforce his lack of purpose. Petra's being there had changed everything. When he returned inside, Petra sleepily asked, "Wie ist der Wetter?"
"Es regnt," Sean answered, as a harder downpour splashed off the terrace.
"Du gehst nach Geneva jetzt?" Petra murmured in bed, throwing off the sheet to reveal her nakedness. She spread her legs and covered her vagina with one hand. She knew the effect that had on men and Sean was no exception to the rule.
"Soon." Sean sat on the mattress and pushed back her hair, wrapping the thick strands in his fingers.
Petra purred contentedly, then said, "Be careful."
"Of what?" He lay his head on her belly, the pungent smell of her sex wafting in the air like an exotic perfume he was forbidden to own, but had somehow found in his possession.
"Do not trust Kurt." Her hands massaged the tendons in his neck.
"Why?" His palms caressed her thighs.<
"He is what he is."
"Which is to say?" He unhanded her and slid back away from her.
"A thief no one can trust. Now that I found you, I would hate to lose you."
"This is no different from any of the other trips other than it is the last one," Sean explained, though he didn't really need the money that Kurt would pay him. Not with her with him. They could have left Hamburg today for India, but he couldn't stop thinking about taking one last shot at taking it all. He weighed telling her about his plan to steal the money, if given the chance, then decided to keep it. " I go down in the morning and come back at night. I work two more nights at the club and then we leave. I'll be careful.
The two kissed, but Sean felt Petra tremble. No words could still her apprehension. when they broke away, she stared at him with her good eye and bit her lips, as if she had something to tell him, which he could not force from her. she dropped her eye and said, "Sean, do not get mad."
"Why should I get mad?"
"Because I will tell you something. When you first come to Hamburg, Kurt paid me to keep an eye on you."
""And that was the only reason you saw me?" Sean's heart crinkled like a stepped-on origami paper.
"At first, yes."
"And now?"
"You have to ask?"
"I'm a little thick sometimes."
"I'm not through with you yet."
"You did?"
"I hope not."
Twenty minutes later, as he left the apartment, Petra said, "I was telling the truth, when I said I want you back again."
"I believed you too. Everything will be fine. I only die in my dreams." Sean kissed her good-bye and wondered if that was true.
Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door.
Petra smiled to herself, thinking Sean had forgotten something or else had called off the entire trip. She opened the door, and all her fears for Sean were answered by discovering Mack 'Die Alte' in a dripping raincoat.
She tried to slam the door shut, but the old pimp forced his way into the apartment. Her nails raked his cheek, adding to the furrows of previous scars, but his long years on the Reeperbahn had made him an expert at fending off a woman's attack. Nothing takes the fight out a woman like a slap across the face, except for when you clenched your palm into a fist. He warned the naked woman on the floor, "Do not make this hard on yourself. Now get dressed and sit on the sofa."
Mack shut the door and then pulled on his gnarled knuckles, popping them back into a human shape, glad Petra had only needed one pop. That was all his hands could take.
Petra stalked away and he followed her into the bedroom. If there was anything he hated, it was sitting in the same room with a woman who wanted to be someplace else. It was going to be long day and nothing he could do would make it go any faster.
Hopefully nothing would, because things going too fast was always a sign of things going bad.
Always.
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