“I’m Tommy, remember? You came to a party at my place last night.”

“The man in the helmet, yes. How did you know where to find me?”

“Stas. I bugged him until he told me; then I just knocked on every door here until I found you. Can we talk?”

Arkady let him in and searched for a shirt and cigarettes.

Tommy wore a corduroy jacket stressed at the buttons. He bounced on his toes and his hands hung in soft fists. “I told you last night that I was a student of World War Two. ‘The Great Patriotic War’ to you. Your father was one of the outstanding generals on the Soviet side. Naturally I’d like to talk some more about him with you.”

“I don’t think we talked about him at all.” Arkady sat down to pull on socks.

“That’s what I mean. The truth is, I’m writing a book about the war from the Soviet side. I don’t have to tell you about the sacrifices the Soviet people made. Anyway, that’s one reason I work at Radio Liberty—for the information. When someone interesting comes through, I interview them. I heard you might be leaving Munich pretty soon, so I came over.”

Arkady searched for his shoes. He wasn’t following Tommy closely. “You interview them for the station?”

“No, just for me, for the book. I’m interested in more than military tactics; I’m also interested in the clash of personalities. I was hoping you could give me some insight into your father.”

Out the window, the rail yard was a field of signal lights. Arkady saw flashlights running around flatcars and heard the heavy grip of couplers engaging. “Who told you I was leaving soon?” he asked.

“People said.”

“Who?”

Tommy rose on his toes. “Max.”

“Max Albov. You know him well?”

“Max was head of the Russian section. I’m in the Red Archives. We worked together for years.”

“The Red Archives?”

“The greatest library of Soviet studies in the West. It’s at Radio Liberty.”

“You were friends with Max?”

“I’d like to think we’re still friends.” Tommy held up a tape recorder. “Anyway, what I wanted to cover to begin with was your father’s decision, despite being overrun, to stay behind the German lines and wage guerrilla warfare.”

Arkady asked, “Do you know Boris Benz?”

Tommy leaned backward and said, “We met once.”

“How?”

“Right before Max went to Moscow. Of course no one knew he was going. He was with Benz.”

“You haven’t seen Benz since?”

“No. It was purely by chance. Max and I were surprised to see each other.”

“You met Benz only once and yet you remember him?”

“Under the circumstances, yeah.”

“Who else was there?”

As Tommy squirmed, his shirttail showed under his jacket. “Employees, customers. No one I’ve seen since. Maybe this isn’t a good time for an interview.”