“My third condition is more delicate,” he said. “I think you probably remember me telling you that I left a girl in trouble, in Vienna. It’s a bit late, I know, but I should like to make amends. Her child. My child, must be twenty-one years old by now. I’d like to give them both some money. Only I’d rather they didn’t know it was from me. So I’d like you to go and see them as if you were a private detective retained by a client who prefers to remain anonymous. Something like that, anyway. I’m sure you know the form, Bernie.”

“Suppose they’re dead,” I said.

“If they’re dead, they’re dead. I have an address. You could check it out for me.”

“I’ll get Jacobs to help with the relevant papers,” Henkell said. “You’ll need an Allied Forces Permit to pass through the British, French, and American zones. And a Gray Pass to go through the Russian zone of occupation. How will you get there?”

“I prefer to go by train,” I said. “I’ll attract less attention that way.”

“There’s a travel agency I use at the main station in Munich,” said Henkell. “I’ll get them to buy you a ticket. When will you go?”

“How soon can Jacobs get those travel documents?”

“Not long, I should think,” said Henkell. “He’s pretty well connected.”

“So I gathered.”

“Twenty-four hours?” said Henkell.

“Then I’ll go the day after tomorrow.”

“But in whose name should I book it?” asked Henkell. “Yours or Eric’s? We have to think this through carefully. Suppose you were searched and they found you had another passport. They’d assume one was false and that you were an illegal refugee from the Russian Zone. You’d be handed over to them and tossed into a labor camp.” He frowned. “It’s quite a risk, Bernie. Are you really sure you want to do this?”

“It would look odd if my travel warrant was in one name and my hotel registration in another,” I said. “That’s something your family lawyer might easily discover. No, for continuity’s sake, everything—tickets, travel warrants, hotel bookings—ought to be done in the name of Eric Gruen. And I’ll leave my own passport at my apartment in Munich.” I shrugged. “As it happens, I’d rather not use my own passport in Vienna. The Ivans might have flagged my name. The last time I was in Vienna, I had a run-in with an MVD colonel named Poroshin.”

“What about the funeral?” asked Gruen.

“Might be risky to go,” said Henkell.

“It would look odd if I didn’t,” I said.