The funeral

Sam left the hotel at Los-Angeles-Platz in Berlin and headed straight towards the car, where he saw Chris already waiting for him impatiently rubbing his hands to warm them up.

"Thought you'd said you'd wait in the garage," Sam said.

"You should listen to me more carefully, buddy, instead of checking out female staff," Chris replied, slightly pissed off.

"I didn't check her out," Sam insisted, "I was just being polite."

"Yeah, yeah. Can we go now?"

"Of course," Sam answered calmly. "You want to drive?"

"No, your turn," Chris shot back, handing the keys over to Sam. "I'm frozen." Opening the passenger door, he got in.

"Okay," Sam grinned as he walked round the car. Opening the door he got in, turned to his partner and continued, "Chris?"

"Yeah?" Chris grumbled already sticking his nose in the city map, trying to locate the cemetery.

"What about a peace offering?" Sam turned the ignition on and they joined the traffic, "I turn the heating on and..."

"Needs more than that, Sam..."

"I hadn't finished. I was about to say and give you this." Taking out a business card Sam looked at Chris, whose head span round to look at him.

"What is it?"

"Remember the little brunette stewardess?" Sam asked cheekily, "She gave me her number."

"Thanks." With one fast move and a beaming smile Chris took the card from Sam.

Sam smiled, changed lanes to turn right at the traffic lights onto Kurfürstendamm.

"Sam?"

"Yes?" Sam concentrated on the heavy traffic on the Kurfürstendamm, while Chris looked out of the window taking in every detail.

"You've been here before, right?"

"Sure. But everything has changed so much - I don't recognise everything. It's been years."

 "Suppose you still know what this ruin over there is?" Chris pointed his finger at the ruins of a church to their left.

"That's the Gedächtniskirche," Sam replied, following Chris' finger with his eyes.

"Gedaec... what?"

"Gedächtniskirche," Sam repeated slowly, pronouncing the German word clearly. "It was destroyed during World War II and left like that after the allied bombings as a warning and in remembrance," he continued, sounding a bit like a tourist guide.

"Uh uh."

"Hey, check the address, will you - where was the cemetery again?" Sam asked Chris. "Is it right here or at the next crossing?"

"Huttenfealdstrasse ... Waldfriedhoaf Zehlendoarf." Chris skimmed through the papers and read the tricky German with a thick tongue.

"Hüttenfeldstraße, Waldfriedhof Zehlendorf," Sam laughed, "Okay, that must be right here, then Hohenzollerndamm, straight through GI City - ehm the former American sector ..." He glanced over at Chris, who was fighting with the city map. "Look for Onkel-Tom-Strasse."

"Okay, got it. Err.... turn right at the next traffic lights." Chris guided him keeping his eyes on the map and the signs in the streets, "Third road on the left then ..."

******

Why do people have to die? You're supposed to be here with me, not down there in the coffin. How could you let him get back at you? Why haven't I been there? - Right. I haven't been there because I'm dead myself. Will he show up? Who will show up anyhow? Mike told me they sent obituaries to all kinds of former colleagues and politicians, all the ones that owed you. Your words are imprinted in my mind: you have to learn to live with the inevitable or life will kill you.

*****

Twenty-five minutes later they arrived at the graveyard. Sam parked the car and they walked to the place where people were gathered around a grave, listening to a reverend's sermon. Sam and Chris stopped at a respectable distance from the group - from this spot they could observe the people present without attracting too much attention. There was nothing unusual about them. Their ages varied from young to middle aged and they were all dressed in black. The reverend said his last words and then everyone lined up near the open grave, one after the other paying their respect by throwing some sand or flowers in.

"Looks normal to me." Sam whispered.

"Ohm.... but hey, look...." Chris nodded to the woman, who was approaching the grave from the far end carrying a huge bunch of white roses and lilies.

She was small, and from this distance, she seemed to be fairly average. Only her long, silky, blonde hair was remarkable. She was dressed in expensive black clothes and wore a pair of sunglasses, which hid her eyes. She threw the flowers in the grave, mulled for a moment and then - to their surprise - marched straight over to Sam and Chris.

"I guess I wouldn't mind a date with that one." Chris whispered as she came closer.

The woman who just some minutes ago had appeared to be no more than average, actually was outstanding in some odd way.. She had a good figure, nice legs and that eye-catching, long, silky, blonde hair, which fell over her shoulders in gentle curls.

"Sure you wouldn't", Sam shook his head slightly, "... Me neither."

Right in front of them she stopped, took off her dark glasses and gave them a bright yet cold smile.

"Tell Harry, one of his ghosts has returned", she said in perfect Oxford English, looking straight into Chris' eyes as if she was trying to read his thoughts.

"You know him well?" Sam asked.

"None of your business", she said without releasing Chris from her hypnotic gaze. Her voice remained toneless and her expression was made of stone.

"Just report to him." Her head shifted from the American to the Englishman and through narrowed eyes she offered Sam a short and icy look, before she once again locked her grey-blue eyes firmly on Chris' blue ones.

"On whose behalf?" Sam asked, factual as always.

But to Chris it was obvious he was forcing himself to resist her look. It seemed as if something about that short eye-to-eye contact had really confused Sam, although apparently he wasn't willing to admit it.

Chris had to force himself to resist her eyes, which were neither completely grey nor blue, as well. Although her appearance was not at all threatening, he had to admit to himself that her eyes for some reason - and the amount of calmness in her tone were.

"Ask Harry to tell you."

She gave Chris a friendly smile, which didn't reach her eyes before she turned and left, leaving both of them stunned. Before they realised they should do something she had turned and left. She walked fast and mingled with the other mourners on their way to the car park.

"D'ya want to call the old man ?" Chris said, when he finally regained his speech. He turned to Sam and then grinned "Shut your mouth, Sam, or you'll catch flies in it."

"Did you see those eyes?" Sam said somehow still caught by the brief encounter.

"Oh sure I did. Had more of them than I wanted." Chris replied confused - but yet in admiration - while he dragged Sam to the car.

"What was that all about?"

"Don't know. Hey, there she is..." In the far distance Chris could see the woman sliding into diver seat of a green Audi A8.

"I know I 've seen those eyes before", Sam once again stated.

"Yeah, right. Come on, let's call Backup and do a run on her car. I've got the license number."

Sam mumbled something agreeing. As they reached their own car, they saw there was a small piece of paper stuck under one of the windscreen wipers. Sam took it carefully.

"Are we already getting love letters?" Chris grinned.

"Stop it, okay", Sam's voice was crisp as he handed the paper to Chris.

"Watch your back, I will be after you." Chris read out aloud, "What a sweetie...I really love Berlin!"

*****

The next morning Sam woke up early. He tried to call Chris to wake him up after he'd had a shower, but all Chris managed was a mumbled reply. Somehow he managed to arrange a breakfast appointment with his hardly awake partner. Sam was sure Chris would be late and he wasn't disappointed. He'd finished breakfast and left the restaurant, before Chris had even turned up. He went straight to the cashier and was paying for his room when he was told that there was a message waiting for him at the concierge's desk.

"My name is Curtis," he explained to the clerk several minutes later. "You've got a message for me?"

"Yes, Sir. Just a minute." The clerk took a large, brown envelope from one of the file deposits to his left. "Ah, here it is."

Sam took it, looking at it inquisitively. Thank you." Opening it, he discovered that there was no sender given on it or a name below the neatly typed and printed message, which had fallen out of the envelope along with some photographs. Hiding his shock at the pictures he asked, "Em, do you know who left the envelope?"

"A young and quite attractive woman, that's all I know. I'm really sorry, she didn't give her name to me, although I asked her to."

"It's not important, thank you." He smiled to the clerk and stashed the message in one of his pockets.

As he walked his way back to the restaurant to see if Chris had turned up, Sam scanned the place for a woman who could possibly have delivered the message. There were only a few people in the foyer at this early time of the day and even less were female, young and attractive. Then he spotted a young lady, who had her back turned to him. In the mirror opposite he could see more of her features. Young - at least younger than the other women present, well dressed, not following the latest fashion but keeping the classical style of successful businesswomen, he thought. That must be her. If she had had blonde hair, she might have been related to the woman they had encountered at the funeral. Was she the courier?

Sam had almost reached the woman, when she suddenly turned around. She walked over to him with a smile of genuine delight on her face. Her sandy brown hair, her bright blue-grey eyes framed by dark lashes, the freckles on the bridge of her nose, every single move of her hips, even her smile were more than familiar to him. When she passed him by - her smile had not been meant for him - he caught the scent of her perfume and that left him dazzled, overtaken by the sudden sensation. A name matched the smell and the image bubbled up: Cat.

Sam, he told himself, stop it. It's not her; your imagination is playing tricks on you. He blinked to chase away his thoughts and when he focused again she was gone. Still somehow caught by the feeling of déjà vu, he made his way back through the lobby towards the restaurant. As he saw Chris standing at the receptionist's counter at the opposite end, he changed direction and went over to his partner.

******

Chris watched Sam walking through the lobby, heading for a woman with sandy brown hair. What was he up to now, he wondered, when the voice of the cashier brought him back to the present.

"May I help you, sir?"

"Em, yeah ... right.... Checking out, please." He put his key card on the counter, "Room 103."

Shouldering his bag, he patiently waited for Sam to join him. The young female receptionist behind the counter he was leaning against was good for a short distraction, as he used the opportunity to buy a newspaper.

"Do you have any English papers?"

"Of course. We've got a large variety of papers, including some American ones as well. Would you prefer one of them? Maybe USA today or the International Herald Tribune?" she replied without hesitation.

"Nah, think I'll go for the Guardian." Chris smirked and took the paper. "Your English's great, where did you learn it?"

"At school."

"Really? " He bent slightly forward to be able to read the name on her nametag, "You're kidding, Jennifer. Don't tell me you got that east coast accent from lessons." He smiled at her.

"Well," she blushed and smiled back at him, "I might have had some private lessons."

"Private lessons?" Chris raised an eyebrow. "So that's what you call it these days." He smirked at her.

She smiled in response. "Maybe ..."

Sam approached him.

"Thought, you were the early bird?" Chris said cheekily, as Sam reached him.

"I am." Sam replied, "Take a look at this."

"What's that?" Chris lowered his bag to the floor.

"Have a look," Sam said, smiling mildly.

Taking the envelope, opening it and taking out the set of photographs, Chris offered Sam a quizzical look and said, "Where did you get them from?"

"They were left for me," Sam answered shortly.

"Have you noticed anyone taking these of us?" Chris whispered.

"No and that really annoys me." Chris noticed that Sam waskeeping his voice casual as if they were discussing the weather. But the expression on Sam's face was conveying a different attitude.

"Would you mind a short stop while going to the airport?" Sam took out the car keys while he asked Chris.

"No. You drive and I'll inform Backup about these pieces of modern art," he agreed. waving the envelope. "Okay. We're leaving, could you open the parking garage, Jennifer?"

"Of course. Have a pleasant trip home and we hope you have enjoyed your visit to Berlin," Jennifer, the female receptionist, replied friendly.

"We most definitely have." Chris offered her one of his legendary smiles, which made his dimples appear and his eyes brighten up, "I love your Berlin. It's beautiful. Next time I come over you give me some of those private lessons of yours, will ya?"

"You'll never know", she mumbled, then turned around and pressed some remote buttons, "until you've tried."

"Leaving another broken heart behind, Keel?" Sam grimaced. "What is it about you and women? I simply can't understand why they're attracted to you so easily."

"Because I'm better looking than you", Keel retorted with a grin.

Shaking his head at his partner, Curtis headed for the garage, Keel following behind, still grinning.