“Obvious things. You were Rudy’s partner, but on paper Benz was Rudy’s partner. Once I knew Benz was a paper identity, you were the most likely candidate. It struck me as odd that the clinic at your Munich house believed me for a second and let me in the door when I claimed I was you. I don’t sound very German. Then you made the mistake of videotaping a restaurant window when you were taping Rita. Your reflection wasn’t a perfect portrait because you were holding the camera, but on a big screen an old football hero still stands out.”

“The tape was Max’s idea.”

“Then, I should thank him.”

Heading south toward the Ku’damm, they passed a service station with signs in Polish. Borya said, “What the Poles do is, they steal a car, a nice car, cut it off the motor, drop the car on a legal motor, maybe a piece of junk that barely runs, and drive to the border. The border guards check the number on the motor and they let it through. It’s like a joke: how many Poles does it take to steal a car? If you have any money, you just pay the guard and drive through.”

“Getting a painting across the border, is that more difficult?” Arkady asked.

“You want to know the truth? I like that painting. It’s a rare work of art. But we don’t need that painting. There’s a difference of opinion here. We were doing very well with the slot machines, the girls—”

“That’s the personnel part of TransKom, bringing prostitutes from Moscow to Munich?”

“It’s legal. It’s an opportunity. The world’s opening up, Renko.”

“Then why smuggle the painting?”