Chapters (50)
- Praise
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Teaser chapter
I glanced around my suite. Gruen had done me proud. “I’m still waiting for the search party to come back from the bathroom and tell me what it’s like,” I said. “And apart from the echo everything is just fine.”
“Engelbertina’s right here,” he said. “And she says that she sends her love. And that she’s missing you.”
I bit some skin off the inside of my lip. “I miss her, too,” I lied. “Listen, Eric, this call is costing you a fortune, so I’d better come to the point. As I said, I met with Bekemeier, and everything went fine. Which is to say he seems quite convinced that I am you.”
“Good, good.”
“But there was something strange about him. Something he wasn’t telling me. Something he kept on creeping around. I couldn’t make out what it might be. Do you have any idea?”
“Yes, I think I might.” He laughed derisively and then his voice became awkward, like a man who has borrowed your car without telling you. “There was a time, years ago, when it was thought that old Bekemeier and my mother were, you know, lovers. If he seemed awkward to you, then that’s probably the reason. I guess he might have thought you knew about it. And was embarrassed. It was stupid of me not to have mentioned it.”
“Well,” I said, “that makes sense, I suppose. I’m going to see your old girlfriend this afternoon. The one you left with a bump in her road.”
“Remember what I said, Bernie. She mustn’t know the money comes from me. Otherwise she might not take it.”
“You told me. An anonymous benefactor.”
“Thanks, Bernie. I really appreciate it.”
“Forget it,” I said. And I dropped the phone back into its cradle.
After a while, I went out again and rode a number 1 bus clockwise around the Ring as far as the Hotel de France, for a spot of lunch. It was open to all, even though it was still under requisition by the French army of occupation. That was one thing against it. On the other hand, the food, according to the concierge at my own hotel, was the best in the city. Besides, it was just around the corner from my next port of call.
TWENTY-NINE
TWENTY-NINE