Today, his name was Wouters, but only until the border. Once he got past the checkpoint, he would be travelling under a different identity, making the change of documents in a parking spot, or a filling station, or whenever the first opportunity presented itself. He had the new papers ready, of course, taped to the underside of one of the rear floormats, and he hadn’t memorised the new name yet. For now, he was still Wouters. The most pressing matter was his vehicle. Borders in this part of...
