29The front door of the Libyan building flew open. A hunched figure staggered out, hands to his face, fighting the gas.
A siren wailed in the distance. The German cops coming in loud.
I bent low and ran across the intersection. Behind me came the sounds of small-arms fire, screams, explosions. I smelled gunpowder and my eyes smarted.
But nobody tried to stop me. I jogged along the empty street. It narrowed to an alleyway. I stopped to listen. All I heard was a distant siren. A few blocks to my left was the Landwehrkanal. If I continued straight, I’d come to Potsdamer Strasse. A right turn there would lead back into the Tiergarten. A man with a dog—what could be a more reasonable destination than a large urban forest? I started running.
The maze of streets and alleys dumped me out near
