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THE STREET OUTSIDE was empty. A row of bikes and scooters stood parked on the side of the street, as well as a van. The tram station was deserted, silvered in pale light from a single fluorescent lamp under the shelter.
We crossed the street, stepped over the low fence that separated the street and the tramline—apparently it was to keep ducks off the rails—and crossed the tracks.
The water in the canal on the other side was very dark and very empty. There was a tourist boat company a short distance to the right, and their low boats with glass cabins lay alongside the canal wall. The wind was quite fierce here and even the water in the canal was whipped into little waves that slapped against the concrete sides.
“I can’t see how they could have gotten down there,” Veyada said.
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