Susanna

The mayor of Bromstadt's office was small and exceptionally simply furnished. At first glance, it demonstrated his host's penchant for impeccable order and meticulous attention to detail. Here, everything was in its proper, carefully considered place. Nothing could disturb the planned order. For such was the nature of Mayor Erich Kassel, who had held this position for almost ten years.

From the appearance of this short, slightly gray-haired, and physically frail man, one might have been reminded of an inconspicuous, ordinary official. But how misleading that impression was. For Erich Kassel was a rare individual whose exceptional intelligence, unbridled ambition, and undoubted organizational and diplomatic talents combined into one decidedly extraordinary whole.

From the moment he arrived in Bromstadt fifteen years ago, seeking employment, he had managed to forge a meteoric rise. From an ordinary, lowest-level official, unknown and ignored by the city's elite, he rose to the highest position in the city in just five years. He ingratiated himself with the elite, and thanks to his abilities, his influence grew rapidly. It wasn't long before he became the most powerful figure in the area, a figure whom even those who had elevated him to such a high position now had to reckon with.

The mayor of Kassel had just as easily earned the public's respect and esteem. And fear, too. The success of virtually every endeavor in Bromstadt depended on his opinion. And virtually nothing could have happened there without his knowledge.

But Erich Kassel was truly an enigma to everyone.

It was just approaching 4 p.m. when the mayor, irritated, jumped up from behind his massive desk, covered with orderly stacks of documents, and, mentally cursing the drafts and rheumatism, moved with characteristic, seemingly hurried and nervous steps to the window. It was just beginning to get dark outside. The weather was terrible, as usual in late October. The damp, chilly air and the gusty, icy wind caused the few pedestrians to hurriedly pass by. Rain looked imminent.

"The weather is terrible," he muttered.

Gazing at Neuestrasse, which was covered in puddles and covered with a layer of fallen leaves, he cursed violently and slammed the window in frustration. A moment later, a quiet knock sounded.

"Come in," Kassel called, trying to hide his irritation.

"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor," the young secretary blushed as she opened the door. "Is everything alright? Because I heard...

" "It's just a draft, Helen." The man assumed a benevolent smile. "But thank you for your concern. By the way, have you received the documents I requested yet?"

A woman in a black coat approached the window display. Feigning interest in the clothes on display, she glanced discreetly over her right shoulder to make sure no one had followed her. Everything was fine.

However, she wasn't happy. She knew she was drawing too much attention to herself.

Returning to the stroller beside her, she began to blame herself for not taking the weather into account earlier. As if a woman walking alone on such an afternoon didn't stand out enough on the street.

It was too late to get rid of him. She cursed under her breath.

She glanced at the barely visible child, carefully bundled against the cold, then looked back.

Neuestrasse was becoming more deserted with each passing moment. People were hurrying home from work. But at least no one was paying her any attention. Everyone was in too much of a hurry. But that was a good thing!

She glanced at her watch: a quarter past four. She gently pushed the stroller forward and walked slowly toward the town hall.

Kassel was buttoning the last button of his coat when the secretary's girlish voice reached him from behind the open office door:

"Mr. Mayor, maybe I should call you a taxi?

" "No, you don't need Helen." He surveyed the girl's shapely body, hidden beneath her navy blue suit. "I'll take a walk as usual.

" "But it's so unpleasant outside. And it's going to rain soon." She looked at him with genuine concern. "You'll catch a cold."

She was an exceptionally beautiful young woman with regular, delicate features, sparkling brown eyes, and exceptionally fluffy, dark hair.

Kassel looked at her with a mischievous smile.

"I wish I'd been born much later. I should have had a wife like you, Helen," he laughed softly. "Nobody cares about me like that."

The girl blushed slightly.

"It's my job, Mr. Mayor."

He nodded with a smile.

As he had done every day for nearly ten years, he passed the secretary's office and, walking down the red-carpeted corridor of City Hall, bowed playfully to the portrait of his predecessor. He fumbled in the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He made sure he had a few left. He took a few more steps. Suddenly, he froze!

He spun on his heel and, despite being almost fifty, broke into a run like a teenager.

"Oh, that memory," he said, forcing a cheerful tone as he passed the clearly surprised secretary.

He burst into the office. Although the room was dim, he easily found what he was looking for in the drawer. He carefully checked to make sure the surprised Helen hadn't followed him, and quickly pocketed the dark object. The metallic coolness of the pistol calmed him somewhat.

But as he walked the red carpet again, he couldn't forgive himself for having it happen again. For the third time in a month! He was clearly becoming more and more careless. And Erich Kassel couldn't afford to be careless.

"Fucking hell!" he shouted in his mind.

He was furious with himself.

A woman with a stroller walked slowly down the sidewalk. She stopped for a moment, as if to adjust the child's blanket. She discreetly glanced at the fluorescent hands of her watch: twenty past four.

Where the hell was he?!

She took a deep breath. She couldn't be upset. Not now! Stress makes mistakes.

She set off again, walking slowly. The city hall was across the street. Just a few meters away. She couldn't back down now.

Where was he?!

She knew that Erich Kassel left the town hall building at 4:22 every Friday and, choosing one of his regular routes, walked to his villa on Oststrasse, a few minutes away. Unfortunately, which route he would take was always a mystery.

4:22 PM! No one but an elderly woman had appeared on the brightly lit steps of the town hall for a long time.

Why hadn't he come out yet? He couldn't figure it out.

With each moment of waiting, she grew more and more nervous. And terrified. At that moment, she was struggling to contain her emotions. This was an unusual situation for her.

She took another deep breath. Pushing back a lock of blond hair, she glanced at her watch again: 4:23 PM.

Stop drawing attention to yourself! Relax.

Kassel was furious.

"No!" he thought. "Not furious!" That was far too weak a word.

What was that impertinent bureaucrat thinking, stopping him, the mayor of Kassel, on a Friday after four o'clock?! And to sign some damn papers!

"That little brat! I'll give him a hard time."

In his frustration, he nearly hit his head on the handle of the enormous city hall door, which was level with his forehead.

"Scheise!"

As if lightning had struck her. She felt paralyzed. But there was no time for emotion.

It was him! Older, slimmer, and grayer. But it was the same man. She was waiting for him!

As if nothing had happened, she checked for any approaching vehicles and then pushed the stroller toward the pedestrian crossing. Now he couldn't escape her!

Even though there was no indication of danger, the feeling that he was being followed nagged at him. Clenching his fingers almost instinctively around the pistol hidden in his pocket, Kassel stopped on the curb. He glanced around quickly.

He immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Apart from a slowly toddling old woman and a woman with a stroller, the sidewalk was completely empty. Nothing alarming. No cause for concern.

Giving the impression of an impatient passerby, he glanced intently at the enormous Mercedes. The car moved slowly, even majestically, with the characteristic purr of its engine. It was now only a few meters from the mayor.

Kassel lunged forward! With a long leap, he cleared the puddle. The loud screech of braking tires shattered the evening silence. The man stumbled! He almost fell. Although with great difficulty, he maintained his balance and ran on. The massive bulk of the vehicle missed him by only a few centimeters. Ignoring the honking horns and the loud shouts of the driver, the mayor reached the park gate.

Unseen in its shadow, he stopped, trying to calm his racing heart and control his racing thoughts. As he'd expected, the woman with the stroller and the old woman stared dumbfounded at the still-honking, screaming driver. No one was chasing him. So he was right, he wasn't being followed.

She didn't even flinch as Kassel lunged toward the car. Oh no, there was no way she was falling for such an amateurish trick. Better for him to escape than expose her.

Feigning interest, she glanced toward the cursing driver.

But she had to be vigilant; Kassel suspected something.

The sparse streetlights barely illuminated the park's darkness. Since the sun had set, it had become bitterly cold. The woman adjusted the collar of her black coat. Stopping in the dimmest spot on the path, she looked around. The barely visible figure of the mayor loomed behind the trees, a few dozen paces ahead. Apart from him, there was no one else.

Now there was no doubt which path the man would choose. In about two hundred meters, she would turn right at the fork, then follow a winding path for about a kilometer until she reached the Eastern Gate. Every time he headed for Oststrasse through Goethe Park, he took the exact same route. She hoped he wouldn't change his mind this time.

To be sure, she looked around again. She didn't see or hear anything alarming. She leaned over the stroller. Leaves rustled softly as she swiftly pushed the vehicle into the undergrowth. Deep enough that no one would notice it in the darkness.

In the morning, someone would find the stroller with the doll inside. But then it wouldn't matter.

Trying to move as quietly as possible, she ran through the trees. She hoped she had memorized the shortcut.

Suddenly, she heard a crack. Her leg caught on something hard. She lost her balance. Instinctively, she knew she wouldn't be able to avoid the impact, so she turned her head slightly to at least cushion its impact. A wave of excruciating pain flooded the right side of her face as she fell to the ground. She was dazed. She felt herself slowly losing consciousness. But she had to snap out of it immediately. Her life depended on it. And the success of her mission.

With difficulty, she rose to her knees.

Pain throbbed in her temple. Her cheek stung unbearably.

Only now did she notice the cause of her fall – a small root, previously invisible beneath the layer of leaves. This mistake could cost her dearly.

She wiped a trickle of blood from her mouth with her sleeve. Unable to see much in the darkness, she began to listen.

In the omnipresent rustle of the trees, even her sensitive hearing was unable to discern anything. The wind drowned out all sounds.

"At least Kassel is far away," she thought, and breathed a sigh of relief. "He couldn't have heard anything."

She had to hurry. She'd already wasted enough time. Still slightly unsteady, she continued on her way.

After a few minutes, she reached her chosen spot. Glancing down the perfectly visible path strewn with white pebbles, she confirmed that the man hadn't yet arrived.

She took off her coat, which only unnecessarily restricted her movements, and hid it behind a tree. Now she wore only a tight, brown-gray jumpsuit that blended perfectly with the autumn colors.

She slowly crawled to the hiding place she'd prepared earlier. To avoid any dangerous rustling, the leaves had been pushed aside. The nearest lamppost was over twenty meters away. Seeing her there was practically impossible.

Scanning the path, she began to listen. Cool, composed—now she was simply a professional.

Two uniformed policemen had just passed the Eastern Gate. They were going on their routine evening patrol of the park. They both undoubtedly hated these forced autumn walks. The park was always deserted at this time of year. Nothing at all happened there. Besides, as far as they could remember, there had never been a need for intervention in the park.

"This patrol is pure idiocy," they relentlessly repeated to their superiors. But always to no avail.

On this day, however, they were actually heading there with pleasure. After several hours of traipsing through the city in the freezing wind and driving rain, they were already freezing. And the park trees at least offered some protection from the wind.

"Only an hour more," the ruddy-faced sergeant muttered. "And that damn shift is over."

His tall companion, as was his habit, merely shrugged, clearly finding the gesture the most appropriate comment.

The sergeant began to whistle a cheerful, yet distorted melody, unrecognizable.

Trying to remain silent, she carefully pulled the pistol from her pocket. She checked the silencer attachment and cocked the weapon. The mechanism operated silently. The pistol was perfectly prepared. There could be no mistake here.

In fact, she had no intention of using it, only as a last resort, if there was no other option. If something went wrong. Because a gunshot would be far too quick and far too painless a death for Kassel. Oh no! She couldn't allow that! The death she had prepared for him was to be far more painful. It was to be torture.

She thought of the small syringe sewn inside her pocket so it could be easily torn off. And, of course, perfectly secured. She couldn't risk accidentally infiltrating her system.

The drug caused the most horrific death she could imagine.

Within seconds, it paralyzed the nervous system, causing unbearable, relentless pain to rip through the entire body. However, its intensity was not severe enough to cause the victim to lose consciousness. For over 24 hours, the victim writhes in convulsions, unable to beg for mercy or commit suicide to free themselves from their suffering. Crucially, there is no antidote. The only escape from the pain is death, which for the victim seems never to come. Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes into long hours. Terrible agony.

Although the sight of death, suffering, and pain had become a daily occurrence for the woman, she shuddered at the mere thought of the drug's effects. The memory of that one, singular time, when she had helplessly watched the suffering of the drug's victim now almost made her sick.

But she had no doubt: Kassel deserved such a death.

First she heard footsteps, rustling underfoot, fallen leaves. A moment later, the mayor's small figure appeared in the bright streetlight.

When she saw his face, a shiver of fear shot through her body. She felt her heart beat faster. He was about twenty meters from where she'd hidden. Instinctively, she checked to see if the safety was off. She touched the cold trigger. Just in case. In case Kassel noticed.

"Or maybe for courage," she thought.

The man took a few more steps. He slowed and finally stopped. He put a cigarette in his mouth. In the orange light of the lighter's flame, she could see his face even more clearly. A face that, despite her best efforts, she hadn't managed to erase from her memory for years. Those small, black, piercing, suspicious eyes. Just the same as that moonlit night

.

The muddy dirt path was bathed in bright moonlight. The remnants of melting, dirty snow lingered in the nearby fields. A frosty breeze occasionally picked up.

The unusual procession moved silently. An unbearable stench hung in the air, the stench of sweaty human bodies, excrement, and vomit. The horrific odor, however, attracted no attention.

The procession consisted of several hundred exhausted, human wrecks. Their silence contrasted with the sporadic shouting of a handful of rifle-wielding guards.

"Move! Quickly!" the echoes intensified the commands issued in German.

But the people were already too weak, too indifferent to pay any attention.

Somewhere in the center of the column, a tearful, young girl was taking tiny steps. At one point, she stumbled. Her mother, holding her hand, was unable to steady her. The child slipped and fell backward into the mud, momentarily halting movement. A slight commotion ensued.

"Don't delay!" the guard shouted, calmly taking a drag on his cigarette.

However, the second guard, who had just realized the situation, immediately pushed the prisoners aside and merged with the crowd. Furiously, he rushed to the girl.

The mother shielded the child at the last moment. The irate man, in full view of the helpless crowd, punched the woman in the face. When she fell, he brutally dragged her from the column. The woman looked at her executioner with terror in her eyes.

"I beg you, please don't hurt Zuzia," she whispered. "I beg you!"

He looked at the woman with disgust etched in his dark eyes. He drew his pistol.

* * *

The tip of the cigarette glowed with a red glow, which only made her task easier. The small, glowing point made the figure an excellent target in the darkness.

Kassel slowly moved on.

At one point, he was right next to her hiding place. He was so close that she could easily hear his softly wheezing breath. If it weren't for the darkness, she could see even the tiniest wrinkles on his face. He had no idea what an easy target he was at that moment. All it took was a gentle squeeze of the trigger, the gun would spit fire with an almost inaudible crack, and the man named Kassel would cease to exist.

The knot in her stomach intensified. She began counting the steps. Suddenly, one of the mayor's feet landed with a loud splash in an invisible puddle. He muttered something nervously under his breath.

It drowned out the rustling of leaves. The woman broke into a run. The pebbles that had lined the path crunched under her feet. She had to hit it perfectly – precisely on the seventh cervical vertebra. And not too hard, lest it kill her instantly.

She swung the pistol expertly.

It was too late for Kassel. By the time he realized the situation, the blow was inevitable. The cigarette fell onto the path.

He only managed to let out a desperate, broken scream.

The ruddy policeman froze instantly, the unidentifiable melody catching in his throat.

"Did you hear that?" he nudged his colleague.

"But what?" his partner responded with his usual phlegmatic demeanor.

"Like a scream!" Short, broken.

Although they both strained their ears for a moment, no sound reached them. Only a hum, loud, powerful, deafening.

"Or maybe I imagined it?" he thought

. "We'd better check it out," he said to his colleague and broke into a jog. "Come on!" he growled.

A moment later, two pairs of boots were clattering against the stone path. However, the wind effectively drowned out their sounds.

* * *

The man with the gleaming Luger in his hand stared at the fallen woman for a long moment. She was whispering a silent prayer with trembling lips. She wasn't afraid of death. Not after what she'd seen so far. This world couldn't surprise her with any cruelty anymore. She trembled with fear for her daughter.

The crying, terrified child tried to break through the ghostly crowd and reach her mother. She was already at the edge of the column.

"Zuzia! No!" the woman screamed.

Her scream was terrifying. The girl froze.