The mall was a cathedral of consumer noise, a jarring assault of bright lights, piped-in pop music, and the chatter of hundreds of people. Karl moved through it with a purpose, buying mundane items—socks, a new kettle, groceries—to maintain the facade of Matthias Vogel, a man running errands. He felt exposed, a wolf in a sheepfold, every reflex screaming at the chaos.
A sudden, pure sound cut through the din. A giggle. He looked down. A small toddler, strapped into a stroller, was staring up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. The child giggled again, a chubby finger pointing at him.
For a split second, Karl was disarmed. The child's gaze held no fear, no calculation, only open curiosity. He felt the ghost of a smile touch his own lips, an involuntary reaction.
And that's when he saw it. In the reflective surface of a store window behind the stroller. A man, thirty feet back, quickly looking away, pretending to be engrossed in a display of mobile phones.
The smile vanished. The Ghost was back, every sense snapping to high alert. The man was good. Professional. But he'd been made.
Karl didn't break stride. He didn't look back. He continued his shopping, his mind now working on two separate tracks: one for socks and coffee, the other for evasion and counter-surveillance.
He led the tail on a leisurely loop through the department store, then suddenly ducked into a crowded kitchenware section, a forest of hanging pots and pans. He moved quickly, using the reflective surfaces of stainless steel mixing bowls to track the man's progress. The tail was hesitant, losing visual.
Karl doubled back, slipping through a staff-only door he'd noted earlier, emerging into a quieter hallway lined with delivery bays. He pressed himself into a recessed doorway, becoming just another shadow.
He waited. Ten seconds. Twenty.
The staff door pushed open. The man stepped through, his body tense, his hand moving towards a bulge under his jacket. He was looking the wrong way.
In a single, fluid motion, Karl was on him. He didn't go for the weapon. He slammed the man face-first against the concrete wall, his arm twisted up behind his back in a lock that brooked no argument. He pressed the hard line of the SIG into the man's kidney.
"Who are you?" Karl's voice was a low, deadly whisper in the man's ear. "Nightingale send you? Talk, or I sever your spine."
The man in his grip didn't struggle. Instead, he let out a pained, but surprisingly familiar laugh.
"Still as subtle as a sledgehammer, Vorlender," the man grunted, his voice muffled against the concrete. "It's me, you paranoid bastard. Josh."
Karl's grip loosened a fraction. Josh. A name from a lifetime ago. A friend from the Agency. One of the few he'd trusted.
He spun the man around, keeping him pinned to the wall, and scrutinized his face. Behind the years and the strain, he saw it. The sharp, intelligent eyes, the crooked nose broken in a long-ago training exercise.
"Josh?" Karl breathed, the name feeling foreign on his tongue. The SIG didn't waver. "Prove it."
"You once stole a general's pet parrot in Marrakech because it kept mimicking classified frequencies," Josh said, a real smile cracking his pained expression. "Its name was Mango. You had a hell of a time explaining that to command."
The memory, absurd and specific, broke the tension. Karl slowly lowered the weapon, releasing his hold. He took a step back, his mind reeling.
"What are you doing here?" Karl asked, his voice still tight with suspicion. "How did you find me?"
Josh rubbed his sore shoulder, wincing. "I've been looking for you for six months. Ever since I heard a whisper you might still be breathing. Took a lot of favors to get a ping on your new identity." He looked Karl up and down, his expression turning grim. "You've got a hell of a price on your head, brother. The whole world's gone bounty hunter. I'm not here to collect. I'm here to help."
In the sterile, concrete silence of the delivery corridor, surrounded by the distant hum of the mall, Karl Vorlender faced a ghost from his past. Not an enemy. A friend. The game had just changed, again.