Excerpt from The Berlin Exchange by Joseph Kanon, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

A sudden roar, the ambulance shooting ahead, crashing past the checkpoint, no barrier, a moment they must have been watching for. Just a second from the bridge. A gun sticking out the passenger window, pointing. Martin froze, the old instinct, a leopard about to leap out of the tree, then ducked, pushing Kurt to the ground with him, the bullet passing over their heads, the whole quiet morning erupting with sound, gears grinding, another shot, closer, his face against the pavement now, trying to sink into it, out of range. He glanced up at the guards, rifles out, but looking at each other, not sure what to do. Another bullet from the ambulance, hitting the waiting car. A shout from the Western side of the bridge. Now the guards at the wall crouched down, aiming at the ambulance as it came toward them, a burst of tat-tat explosions that finally made it careen into the wall, out of control. Scraping metal until it stopped.

"Fools," Kurt said, his breath ragged.

The guards rushed over to the ambulance, yanking open the door, guns on the driver, slumped forward over the wheel.

"Out!" Motioning with the gun.

The driver stayed slumped over, but a young man opened the passenger door, hands up. "Don't shoot." He looked at the driver, distraught. "You killed him. Murderers."

The guard moved the driver's head back, putting his fingers on the neck, checking for a pulse.

"He's alive. Still bleeding," he said, pulling his fingers away, queasy.

"How many in the back?" Kurt said, getting up and brushing his coat, the movements jerky, shaking. He held out his hand to help Martin to his feet.

The passenger shook his head. "Nobody else. He's going to die."

"I can't help that," Kurt said, suddenly in charge, the guards as young as the passenger. Then, coming back to himself, "Call the hospital. This one's useless now." Waving his hand at the ambulance. "Did you steal it?"

The passenger shook his head. "It's ours. I mean we work on it. For the Charité."

"Even worse. State property. Stealing state property. For this foolishness. What were you thinking?"

"I didn't mean to hit him," the guard said. "We're not supposed to use guns. During an exchange."

"No one's blaming you," Kurt said.

"It went through the windshield," the guard said, tracing the trajectory. "Off the hood."

"He'll die," the passenger said, hands still up in the air. He looked at the empty bridge, his eyes watering. For a moment Martin thought he would run, chance it, but his eyes now were on the guard's gun, the years ahead.

"I'm sorry for this," Kurt said to Martin.

Martin nodded, holding his hands steady, the gunfire still in his head, like radio static.

The driver moved, his body pitching sideward, about to slide out of the seat. The guard stuck the rifle against his shoulder, propping him, then looked over to see the Western guards rushing over the bridge, following the noise.

"Stay back!" the guard shouted. "It's finished."

The Western guards, also young, hesitated, trained not to cross the border line.

"He's bleeding to death," the passenger yelled, a plea.

"Then he can bleed here. In his own country," Kurt said. "Take him away," he said to the guard holding a gun on the passenger. Then, to the other, "You have a field phone? Call the hospital." He looked to the bridge, raising his voice. "Go back."

The Western guards took a minute, hands on their guns, then backed away, boys standing down from a fight.

"You see what it's like," Kurt said to Martin. "They see things on television. The paradise in the West. And then look." Taking in the crashed ambulance, the slumped driver. "Flight from the Republic is a serious crime."

"What'll happen to him?"

"Prison." He watched the passenger being led away. "So, another chip."

"Chip?"

"The West Germans will want him. There is no East Germany to them. Only German citizens, all of us. So by this logic, we're putting their citizens in jail. They have a responsibility to get them out."

Excerpted from The Berlin Exchange by Joseph Kanon. Copyright © 2022 by Joseph Kanon. Excerpted by permission of Scribner. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.