The Second Son

Radek would get them out-Mendy, Lotte, her parents. Radek would do this for him.

“You know I could set you up as well,” Radek said. “Paris. London. You’re sure about this?”

The car emerged from the trees, and Hoffner stared out as the city flickered and pitched above him. He closed his eyes and let Berlin slip forever from his grasp.

A lifetime later a dying sun lingered across the water as the old Hispano-Suiza ground its way along the coast road. Mueller slept, Hoffner drove, and the first glimpse of Barcelona’s Montjuic appeared on the horizon.

Hoffner felt the heat. He felt the damp from the sea. And he felt a rush of life that, if not entirely his, lay just beyond that horizon in the waiting arms of the only faith he had ever known.