A Way to Survive

PROLOGUE

AMSTERDAM

November 2015

PROLOGUE

THROUGH THE FROSTED window of his office, Dirk Joergen could make out Gracie's bobbing head, faded blonde and disheveled as she wove her way through the sea of panic and confusion building outside. He knew why she was there, but he also knew that it was too late. Instinctively, his fingers closed around the brown paper envelope on his desk, thumbing the seam where the flap closed. He hadn't had the courage to open yet, but he knew it was time. He was running out of time.

Wrists trembling, he made a slit in the top of the envelope, and tipped it over. Out fluttered a single sheet of folded notebook paper, and he unfolded it and read its brief contents once, then twice.

By time he had committed it to memory, Gracie was knocking on his office door in quick, spastic bursts. Dirk set the paper down and rubbed the back of his neck with a growing feeling of unease. He already knew what she was going to tell him, but it was too late to give her the answer she would want.

How had the letter gotten inside the police station?

Hello, Officer Joergen.

The thing about windows is that they allow people to watch. I like to watch you sometimes. Is that your wife in the picture on your desk? You have lovely children. They look just like you.

You think it's fair to look back, don't you? But I got rid of my face a long time ago. You'll know it's a metaphor if you're paying attention; how could I be writing this to you if I was missing my eyes? But I think when I've finished what I need to do, I will. There will no longer be a point in having it.

I must let you go, so you can assemble a force to look for me. For no better reason than to protect your own skin. But don't look for me, it'll be a waste of your time. Remember what I said. I got rid of my face.