“Look, Gunther, I’m not armed. In spite of any evidence to the contrary, guns are always a mistake in this business. They’re generally a sign that negotiations have failed.”

“Is that what you call it? They’ll be asking you to address the UN General Assembly next.”

“There’s very little here but do go ahead and search. You’ll find the envelope with the prints and the neg on top of the chest of drawers. As I agreed with Herr Maugham. And I really don’t have anything else for sale. Fifty thousand dollars—I assume it’s in the flight bag—is a big score for me. Enough to retire on.”

I found the envelope, and having established the promised contents were indeed there, I opened the drawers and generally had a good look around his room. It was a nice room, with a fine view of the harbor. Nothing as grand as the Grand, but nice and comfortable and tastefully decorated. I almost preferred it.

“One thing I learned with the Berlin police,” I told him. “Money’s like a state pension. There’s never enough to retire on. Especially when you’re a crook.”

“I suppose you’re not going to pay me now.”

“That’s the general idea, smart guy.”

“But you still brought the money. You went to the house and fetched the money and now you’re here. Which must mean—no, don’t tell me that you’re planning to keep it yourself?”

“I thought about it.”

“Suppose I tell Mr. Maugham.”

“Suppose I slap your mouth with this pistol. Dentists aren’t so easy to find on a Sunday evening.”

“You know we could split the money. Fifty-fifty. With my silence guaranteed.”

“That would mean me becoming your partner. And that’s not going to happen, not after what happened in Königsberg.”

“Ah. I was wondering when we’d get to that.” He shook his head. “Look, that was all a very long time ago.”

“Hard to forget, though.”

“Perhaps you should try. If you’d read my letter in the drawer at the Grand you’d have seen my apology for that. Not that this matters very much. We’re all friends in Europe now, aren’t we? Allies in the struggle against world Communism?”

“The way I figure it is this. With or without the fifty thousand dollars, you’ll either come back with something else you want to sell, or you won’t. A print you kept back. Or something altogether different. A letter, perhaps. Simple as that. My guess is that you will be back. Because you people always come back. I haven’t forgotten the way you and that bastard Otto Schmidt squeezed poor Captain von Frisch for five years. I don’t think you’re the kind of leopard who knows where to buy a tin of paint or find a good plastic surgeon.”