“They said you had a smart mouth. And they’re not wrong. They’re just a little naïve, perhaps. About you, I mean.”

“Over the years,” said the other man, “you’ve caused us quite a few problems. Do you know that?”

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

“In Garmisch-Partenkirchen. In Vienna. As a matter of fact, you and I have met before. In the military hospital at the Stiftskaserne?”

“You didn’t speak German then,” I said.

“Actually, I did. But it suited me to let you and that American army officer, Roy Shields, think otherwise.”

“I remember you. Like it was yesterday.”

“Sure you do.”

“And let’s not forget our mutual friend, Jonathan Jacobs.”

“How is he? Dead, I hope.”

“No. But he’s still adamant you tried to kill him. Apparently, he found a box full of anopheles mosquitoes in the backseat of his Buick. Fortunately for him, they were all dead of cold.”

“Pity.”

“German winters can be brutal.”

“Not brutal enough, it would seem,” I said. “Almost ten years after the war, and you’re still here.”

“It’s a different kind of war now.”

“We’re all on the same side.”

“Sure,” I said. “I know that. But if this is how you treat your friends, I’m beginning to see why the Russians went over to the other side.”

“It wouldn’t be sensible to get smart with us, Gunther. Not in your position. We don’t like wise guys.”

“I always thought that being wise was a useful part of intelligence.”

“Doing what you’re told when you’re told is of greater value in our work.”

“You disappoint me.”

“That’s of no real consequence beside the fact that you don’t disappoint us.”

“I can feel that. I can’t feel my hands, but I can feel that. But I should warn you. I might be wearing a hood, but I’ve seen your cards. You want something from me. And since it can’t be my body, it must be because you think I possess some information that’s important to you. And believe me, it won’t sound the same if you’ve just kicked my teeth in.”

“There are other things we can do to loosen your tongue, besides kicking your teeth in.”

“Sure. And I can do fiction as well as nonfiction. You won’t even see the join. Look, the war is over now. I’m more than willing to tell you whatever you want to know. But you’ll find I respond a lot better to sugar bread than to the whip. So how about you take off these hand irons and find me some clothes? You’ve made your point.”

The two CIA agents were silent for a minute. I imagined one nodding at the other, who was probably shaking his head and mouthing a very clear “No” like a couple of gossipy old women. Then one of them laughed.