The immigration official in the Prague airport looked at my passport and then at me. Then he looked back at the passport-the fatal second glance. “You have taken an odd routing.”
The tickets had taken me from Hong Kong to Shanghai, then to Madrid, and then back to Prague. “Miles,” I said. “I have a lot of them. A few more and I get a free trip to Copenhagen.”
The immigration official looked closely at one page. He held it up in the booth for me to see through the glass. “You’ve already been to Copenhagen.”
“Sure I have. And I want to go back.” I winked. “If you know what I mean.”
“Don’t disturb the peace here in Prague.” He stamped the passport and handed it back to me. “We aren’t like the Danes.”
From the airport I took a taxi to the hotel where I’d stayed the only other time I’d been in Prague. It was a little more frayed than it had been back then, but so was I. The day was cool but clear, so I decided to take a tram to the river, walk across the bridge, and wander around. Kang-or somebody-went to a lot of trouble to get me here; they could go to a little more trouble if they wanted to find me.
An old man with a hat got on at the next stop. He sat in the seat behind me.
“Long time, Inspector.”
It was Kang. The voice was older, but it was still tough.
“Don’t turn around. We’re getting off soon.” He spoke in Russian. None of the other passengers looked up. The tram swayed around a corner and then stopped. “This is it,” he said. “Walk with me.”