On the third day, Thursday night, Nick arrived at an old Catholic church. Compared with the incomparably grand and ornate Protestant churches built later, most of Berlin's Catholic churches were small and dim, but old enough.
Nick's skin color was the best camouflage. After some effort, he knocked out the priest and made his way behind the only confessional in the church.
A confessional usually consisted of two sections. In front was a tiny room, generally large enough for one person to stand in. Directly opposite the door was a wall; some had windows in them, while others did not. The priest stood on the other side of that wall, and the worshipper confessed while facing him.
Of course, sometimes there was no one behind it at all, and sometimes the person standing there was not a priest. That was why many worshippers arranged to meet priests they knew, so they could pour out the secrets in their hearts.
Doctor Schiller was destined not to see a priest today, Nick thought as he stood behind the wall. Unfortunately, this church's confessional wall had no window, so he could not use his skills as an agent to observe the other man's expression.
Soon, the door opened, and the footsteps drew nearer. Nick felt as though he could almost hear the rhythm of the other man's breathing. Yet no matter what, it was hard to imagine that someone who walked so softly had killed three Gestapo men the day before yesterday and hung them all from crosses.
But when the person on the other side finally stopped before the wall, Nick felt that the cage beyond it held a Beast.
"I want to confess, Lord..."
Nick coughed twice. As expected, the voice on the other side fell silent. Nick said, "I'm sorry,