“Willy Smets? What has he done, bought a couple of nickel bags?”

Ranjit frowned at me, then took up the narrative. “Smets is a major drug trafficker. His network runs from India to Pakistan to Afghanistan through Europe and on to America. That’s why the DEA is involved. India is the world’s largest producer of licit opium for pharmaceutical purposes. An estimated ten percent is diverted every year. Maybe more. Your Willy Smets takes possession of a good portion of that opium, refines it into heroin, and distributes it in Europe and America.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“He also deals in stolen goods, alcohol smuggling, and fraud. And, of course, prostitution. He’s quite the versatile fellow.”

“Willy? Willy Smets? My nice neighbor?”

“You’re fond of him?” asked Ranjit.

“Of course I am. He’s been a good friend to me.”

The two cops exchanged looks.

“Are you in the habit of sleeping with your friends’ gals?” asked Harlan.

“Excuse me. I’m having trouble processing all this. If he’s such a bad dude, why don’t you arrest him? Why mess with my life? I don’t have anything to do with him.”

“Except his girlfriend,” said Harlan, his eyes fixed on mine.

Were they bluffing? How could they possibly have known what I was up to with Sushmita?

“Look, Dan,” said Harlan, lowering his voice. “We’re not judging you for who you fall in love with. Or who you sleep with. We’re after bigger quarry than that. But your relationship with Smets’s girl kind of put you in our crosshairs.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “That can’t be true. You’d already planted Ramu in my house. I didn’t even know Willy or—her—at the time.”

“Correct,” granted Ranjit. “We paid your scheduled man, Ramu, to go away. Quite handsomely. Then I took his place in your employ because your apartment was the only one in the building with a new tenant.”

“And your flat was only three floors from the penthouse,” added Harlan. “Less of a climb for Ranjit.”

I twisted in my seat to regard him. “What are you, an aerialist? Are you crazy, climbing up the sides of buildings without a rope or a net?”

“Army training,” he said simply. “And buildings are easy to climb. It’s rocks that present difficulties.”

I stared at my hands for some time, as Harlan and Ranjit watched me. How could I have gotten myself so screwed up in such a short time? I was sure to lose my job, maybe end up in an Indian jail like Willy’s old friend Pier Mertens, or—why not—murdered by Willy for sleeping with Sushmita or betraying him to the police.

“Don’t lose heart, Danny,” came a woman’s voice. She’d slipped into the seat beside Harlan. It was Birgit. And she’d somehow lost her German accent.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

TUESDAY, JULY 15, 1975, 4:36 P.M.