“Correct. What, you don’t read the Kleine Zeitung? Everyone else in the province does. But this one has got the foreign angle already, no doubt. Now you forget about that side of things, okay?

That was yesterday. You’ve done your paperwork, and it’s moved on.

And remember: don’t talk to any reporter or media type. Schroek does that stuff.”

Felix nodded.

“You’re set up for the morning anyway, okay?”

“I think so.”

“Bike safety video? Armbands?”

“Got it, and the posters.”

“Those new bookmarks with the ‘cool’ website? The T-shirt prize?”

Felix almost grinned at how Gebhart did the air quotes for “cool.” Again, Felix nodded.

“Well, bugger off then.”

Gebhart yawned and sighed.

“Didn’t you sleep?”

“I slept like a Christian, in case you need to know. But in the Coliseum.”

Felix waited until Gebhart looked up from the paper.

“What is it? You have a question?”

“Have you done stuff like that before? Yesterday, I mean.”

“No.”

“Nothing like this? Never?”

Gebhart seemed to gather his thoughts by staring at his desk.

“You mean scare-the-hell-out-of-yourself stuff, or just things you see? Car accidents? Factory accidents?”

“I suppose.”

“There was one thing comparable maybe,” Gebhart said. “But I was in the army. Yes, I was keen, after National Service even. I took five years in it. You’d learn things, you know? Straightened me out actually. The service, it bred fellowship, you know? No, I don’t mean mountain rescue camp or the trekking or the rest of it. Maybe we knew who the enemy was, then.”

Felix zipped up the bag.

“Ach, you wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“What enemy, the Russians?”

A look of irritation crossed Gebhart’s face.

“What’s with all the Q amp; A today? Go do your duties.”