“You know, that Lokhande asked me if you’d dropped off any film recently. Photos from a story you were working on. Do you think he suspects you took pictures of the bomber?”

“There’s no film. And the only thing I’m working on is the movie industry story.”

“How’s that coming along?”

“Terrible. I lost my chance to interview Shashi Kapoor and Jeetendra last week. And now Shabana Azmi won’t return my calls. All I’ve got is that one guy was arrested for a syrupy film he made a year ago that hit a little too close to home for the ruling party. Oh, and his girlfriend wants me to introduce her to Robert Redford.”

“Sounds great. I hope your résumé’s in order when Mr. Muller gets back.”

About this time, I was wondering when Sushmita might try to get word to me. The fact that Ranjit was living in my flat complicated matters. He could easily intercept any attempt by her to communicate with me. Or was she smarter than that? And what about Bikas? Had he actually given up? Decided to leave me alone? I figured he still might try to find me. What I didn’t expect, however, was a reunion that evening.

CHAPTER THIRTY

WEDNESDAY, JULY, 23, 1975, 8:03 P.M.

“Your friend Willy Smets requests the pleasure of your company,” said Ranjit, handing me a card when I came through the door. “And Lokhande paid a visit. He wanted to see if you were still alive.”

“More likely he wants another bottle of whisky.”

“One more thing,” he said, ignoring my remark. “Harlan is coming to speak to you. He’ll be here soon.”

“What does he want?”

“I’ll let him tell you.”

In fact, Harlan arrived a few minutes later, as I was combing my hair after my evening bath. And he had the beautiful Birgit with him.

“Why?” I said, once he’d made his pitch to me. “Why would I take Birgit to Willy’s tonight?” I turned to her and offered a weak “no offense” apology.

She smiled, despite the tension in the room, and I thought she was truly lovely. No wonder Willy liked her.

“Dan, you’re going to do Ranjit and me this one last favor,” said Harlan. “You’re not willing to be our double agent. Okay. I get it. But I’m asking you for this. Take Birgit with you to his dinner. She told me they really hit it off. You can do what you like. Flirt with his girlfriend, drink his liquor, I don’t care. But take her with you. Do that for me, will you?”

“Why would I do you a favor?”

He stared me down, long and hard, and I felt myself weakening. “Because you might just get your girl without dirtying your hands.”