Private Berlin [antikvár]

OneAT TEN O'CLOCK on a moonless September evening, Chris Schneider slipped tov^ard a long-abandoned building on the eastern outskirts of Berlin, his mind whirling with dark images and old vows.Late thirties, and dressed in dark clothes, Schneider drew out a .40 Clock pistol and eased forward, alert to the dry rustle of the thorn bushes and goldenrod and the vines that engulfed the place.He hesitated, staring at the silhouette of the building, recalling some of the horror that he'd felt coming here for the first time, and reahzing that he'd been waiting almost three decades for this moment.Indeed, for ten years he'd trained his mind and body.For ten years after that he'd actively sought revenge, but to no avail.In the past decade, Schneider had come to believe it might never happen, that his past had not only disappeared, it had died, and with it the chance to exact true payback for himself and the others.But here was his chance to be the avenging angel they'd all believed in.