“That’s right. That’s exactly where it is. Landsberg. Check him out, Herr Gunther. Find out what kind of character he is. Reliable or not reliable. Honest or dishonest. An opportunist or sincere. I take it you respect the confidentiality of your clients?”

“Of course,” I said. “I couldn’t be more close-lipped if I were Rudolf Hess.”

“Then in confidence I tell you that PFC Ivanov has made a number of allegations regarding the treatment of Red Jackets. Also that the executions of so-called war criminals in June of last year were deliberately botched by the hangman so that it would take longer for the men to die. I’ll give you an address where you can make contact with Ivanov.” He unscrewed a gold fountain pen and started to write on a piece of paper. “By the way, à propos of your remark about Hess. I don’t have a sense of humor, Herr Gunther. It was beaten out of me by the Nazis. Quite literally, I can assure you.”

“Frankly, my own sense of humor isn’t up to much, either,” I said. “Mine was beaten out of me by the Russians. That way you’ll know I’m not joking when I tell you my fees are ten marks a day, plus expenses. Two days in advance.”

He didn’t bat an eyelid. The Nazis had probably done quite a bit of that to him. They were good at batting eyelids. But it was enough to persuade me that I might have priced myself too low. Back in Berlin I had always preferred it when people complained a little about my fees. That way I avoided the clients who wanted me to go on fishing trips. He tore the page off his pad and handed it to me.

“It says on your card that you speak some English, Herr Gunther. You do speak some English?”

“Yes,” I said, in English.

“The witness speaks basic German, I believe, so some English might help you to get to know him better. To gain his confidence, perhaps. Americans are not great linguists. They have an island mentality, like the English. The English speak good German when they speak it at all. But the Americans regard learning all foreign languages as essentially a waste of time. Akin to playing football when they themselves play a strange variety of catch.”

“Ivanov sounds like a Russian name,” I said. “Maybe he speaks Russian. I speak excellent Russian. I learned it in the camp.”

“You were one of the lucky ones,” he said. “I mean, you came home.” He looked at me for a long moment, as if sizing me up. “Yes, you’ve been lucky.”