thoughts, fantasizing about falling in, struggling against the current and the cold of the water. A sense of solemnity came over them. Zipp was gloomily thinking about the girl in the striped jumper. Annoyed, he scratched his crotch.
"A nightcap right about now. That would be good."
Andreas nodded and squinted down at the river—a black, heavy thing that never really got going. They had spent all of Gina's money.
"If an old lady with a handbag came along, I'd fucking grab it," he said. "Just grab it and run."
"We've done enough for one day," Zipp said. "And by the way, all the old ladies are in bed by now."
They fell silent again. A low murmur could be heard from the square behind them. Laughter and curses: Lots of people were drunk. They'd been drinking all night, at last finding courage and self-confidence, and now they were bent on showing it. Ready for a fight, in other words. There were signs of a brawl in the taxi line, and they could hear a few words: "You ape." "Damn Turkish devil."
"Shit," Andreas said. "Let's mug someone."
"Mug who?"
"Anyone."
"Calm down!"
Zipp couldn't understand what was bugging Andreas. He wasn't himself; something was building inside him. They both turned around to look at the city, searching for a wounded animal, easy prey. Most people could defend themselves pretty well, and it was possible that the two of them could get beaten up instead. They craved a release but they were also frightened. Wariness of their plan chafed them; an intuitive sense of what it might lead to, as if they were coming to the end of a lengthy process that had begun long ago. Their fear gave them a dose of adrenaline, and it felt good. They headed up toward the taxi rank, passing the tent where beer was being served; in spite of the early autumn chill, it was still in use—the proprietors had installed a heater. They heard the glasses clinking and ground their teeth. They cut across the main street, went past the town hall. Zipp realized that they were approaching the church. Andreas led the way; Zipp jogged along behind. He didn't understand why they were going there. No one would be out tending the graves. No old women with pension checks in their handbags.
The church spread over a hill above the square and without a doubt commanded the best view in the whole city. That's where the castle would have stood if the city had had a king, Zipp thought. They walked among the gravestones, reading the inscriptions. I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH AND THE LIFE. Andreas stood with his hands on his hips and stared at the words. Zipp kicked at the ground, puzzled.
"It ends here," Andreas said in a low voice.
"What do you mean?"
"All of it. Everything that we are."
Zipp looked around in bewilderment. They were enveloped in silence and darkness. "What's with you? Skip work tomorrow," he suggested. "We can catch a lift out of town. We'll think of something. We could go to fucking Sweden."
"I've missed enough days as it is."
His voice had a dejected tone to it, Zipp noticed. Something was definitely up. Zipp was suddenly nervous.
"I'm kind of in the doghouse right now," Andreas said. "I've got to watch my step."
"But your boss is a woman. I can't understand how you can let some bitch order you around."
"A boss is a boss. She's the one who pays my wages."
"What about buck naked?" Zipp said. "A screw for a day off!"
"You have to draw the line somewhere."
"And where would that be?"
"At varicose veins and a mustache."
"What about the Woman? You like them that way, don't you?"
Andreas didn't reply.
"Hey!" A devil had got into Zipp, but he was trying to cheer Andreas up. "Do you lie on a sheepskin rug, or what?"
Andreas gave him a long look. Zipp couldn't restrain his laughter. He could picture Andreas, naked on a sheepskin rug. And an old lady with a brush and artist's smock. He was hysterical at the idea. Maybe Andreas was holding a brightly colored ball in his hands. Maybe an orange. And then he laughed even harder.