Henry's hand went to his coat pocket just to check that Mickey's notebook was still there. He pulled out his own notebook, counted the wet butts, and noted it. He counted the number of cars parked on the street and wrote down the license plates of the ones surrounding Mickey's car.
Henry walked home slowly. Mickey's words followed him: “Life is short; do what you love; and never have regrets.” Mickey said this while placing a bet on a horse. He lost the bet but loved the action. “All women are trouble except for one. The hard part is finding the one.” This was the wisdom Mickey passed along after Henry had gotten the first letter. It hadn't made him feel any better. In fact, it made him feel worse. “Pain is sweetest when it is from a crazy and beautiful girl.” This was sort of said, sort of slurred while Mickey was drowning his sorrows after his longtime, part-time love interest had finally given up on him.
Now he was gone. Henry was filled with regret at not having stayed in touch. He knew Mickey wouldn't approve of his feelings and would likely say, "Don't cry for me; drink a toast and be done with it. Plus, crying is for girls or guys who are drunk. And you aren't drunk yet."
Henry wasn't drunk though he wanted to be. He wished he had drank more vodka earlier in the evening. The ten-block walk home wasn't long enough. He went right past the stairs to his apartment and continued on into the city night. The last few hours had been devastating.
"Damn you, Kat!" he said out loud and regretted it soon after. He hadn't said her name in years and had fought off the temptation earlier when he was wallowing in self-pity. She snuck past his lips, and the sound of her name ripped through him.
Katarina, who had been named for Katherine the Great, by her mother who loved history. She was well liked by Mickey. He often told Henry to stop being her friend and start being a man. Henry never listened and had let her slip away without ever telling her how he felt. He had assumed she knew, but how would she have known? Now Mickey was gone, and her memory was back.
He wandered into the diner. It was 4 am, and Becky was there as she always seemed to be. She had aged some since he last saw her, but her smile was still a comfort. "Henry Wood, good to see you. I just put a pot of coffee on. I will have a plate of eggs and toast up for you in a jiffy." Nothing much had changed here, and it felt like an old, warm blanket around Henry's shoulders.
Henry hung his coat on the hook by the door and shook the rain off his hat and set it on the counter. The sound of the coffee cup being set in front of him was like the bell at a boxing match. It was time to get to work. Round one was beginning. Henry flipped open Mickey's notebook.
***
Across town, in a dimly lit room, a figure sat alone in a high backed chair. The fireplace sent warmth throughout the room as the solitary figure stared into the flames, wondering where the years had gone. The hair, no longer blond, but more of a stately gray, still looked good. The eyes, piercing blue, saw more than most. They saw the possibilities, the future… a different world.
On the coffee table, next to the Tiffany lamp, a copy of Plutarch's Moralia was opened to a favorite passage. The cup of tea was cold, barely touched. In the hallway, the muffled sound of a door knocker bounced off the walls. The figure didn’t move to answer the door, as it was beneath him to do so. There were other people for such tasks.
The delicate footsteps of Mrs. Hock could be heard coming from the kitchen.
There were whispers at the door, then two sets of footsteps approached and stopped. A pause, and then the door slowly opened and a shaft of light crept across the floor, not wanting to be a bother.
“Herr Doctor, Mr. Mauer has arrived. He apologizes for the lateness of the hour, but he would like to give you an update.”
Hans Mauer, a six-foot-three-inch block of granite, was light on his feet and surprisingly stealthy, when it was a necessity. He had been with Dr. Schafer for eight years. Hans was often given tasks which most people would find menial, but he never appeared to mind. He would go to the grocery for Mrs. Hock, mostly because she was the scariest five-foot-four-inch German woman he had ever met. He was sure she could stare down a Panzer division with nothing but a rolling pin and her angry face.
Hans also served as a foil for Dr. Schaeffer when he needed to play some chess. Mostly, though, he would stand behind his boss on those rare occasions when he was out in public or conducting business. Dr. Schaeffer was quite sure people were far less likely to try to cheat him when Hans was in tow. He was right. Hans was a jack of all trades.
The doctor stood and greeted Hans warmly. "How are you tonight, my friend?"
“I am fine, Doctor. I apologize for the late hour, but I had a number of things to take care of and it took much longer than I anticipated.” Hans shook the doctor's hand and took the other seat in front of the fire. They spent many hours here talking, planning, or sometimes just enjoying silence.