“I lost your number,” he replied in German.

She kissed his cheek. “What a wonderful surprise!” She had liked Dave back in the days when Plum Nellie was playing on the Reeperbahn, and the boys had come to this apartment for their only square meal of the week. Dave had been good for Walli, whose talent had flowered in the partnership.

Dave came into the kitchen, set down his suitcase, and shook hands with Bernd. “Have you just flown in from London?” Bernd asked.

“From San Francisco. I’ve been traveling twenty-four hours.” They spoke their usual mixture of English and German.

Rebecca put coffee on. As she got over her surprise, it occurred to her that Dave must have some special reason for this visit, and she felt anxious. Dave was explaining to Bernd about his recording studio, but Rebecca interrupted him. “Why are you here, Dave? Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” said Dave. “It’s Walli.”

Rebecca’s heart missed a beat. “What’s the matter? Tell me! He’s not dead . . .”

“No, he’s alive. But he’s a heroin addict.”

“Oh, no.” Rebecca sat down heavily. “Oh, no.” She buried her face in her hands.

“There’s more,” said Dave. “Beep is leaving him. She’s pregnant, and she doesn’t want to raise a child in the drug scene.”

“Oh, my poor little brother.”

Bernd said: “What is Beep going to do?”

“She’s moving into Daisy Farm with me.”

“Oh.” Rebecca saw that Dave looked embarrassed. He had resumed his romance with Beep, she guessed. That could only make things worse for her brother. “What can we do about Walli?”

“He needs to give up heroin, obviously.”

“Do you think he can?”

“With the right kind of help. There are programs, in the States and here in Europe, that combine therapy with a chemical substitute, usually methadone. But Walli lives in Haight-Ashbury. There’s a dealer on every corner, and if he doesn’t go out and score, one of them will knock on his door. It’s just too easy for him to lapse.”

“So he has to move?”

“I think he has to move here.”

“Oh, my goodness.”

“Living with you, I think he could kick the habit.”

Rebecca looked at Bernd.

“I’m concerned about you,” Bernd said to her. “You have a job and a political career. I’m fond of Walli, not least because you love him. But I don’t want you to sacrifice your life to him.”

“It’s not forever,” Dave put in quickly. “But if you could keep him clean and sober for a year . . .”

Rebecca was still looking at Bernd. “I won’t sacrifice my life. But I might have to put it on hold for a year.”

“If you turn down a Bundestag seat now, the offer might never be renewed.”

“I know.”

Dave said to Rebecca: “I want you to come with me back to San Francisco and persuade Walli.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow would be good. I’ve already made flight reservations.”

“Tomorrow!”

But there was really no choice, Rebecca thought. Walli’s life was at stake. Nothing compared with that. She would put him first; of course she would. She hardly needed to think about it.