“This fall there are parliamentary elections in Germany,” says Dörsam with his mouth full and offers him a cracker. He wants to keep him up to speed, he says as Josef furrows his brow. The leading candidate for the Deutsche Reichspartei is Rudel. “The gentleman from Buenos Aires. You met him a few times. The one with the prosthetic leg.”

Josef doesn’t know if he should nod or laugh.

The dog barks in the courtyard.

Josef takes advantage of the interruption. “Have you heard about the report in Stern? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Dörsam looks at him, taken aback. Josef stands up, grabs the magazines, and throws them on the table. Dörsam nods and pages through them a little. “Our efforts are getting the recognition they deserve. Oh, look at that. Söderbaum has a new movie out.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Josef’s voice is louder than usual, almost shrill. Dörsam sets the magazine back down. Cranes his neck and looks over the balustrade. Jungle. Green. Banana bushes, leaves hanging limply like exhausted flag bearers. Still no answer. Did Dörsam not hear him?

“You used us,” says Josef.

“Used you?” Dörsam moves an ice cube around in his mouth. There’s a soft crunch when he bites down.

Josef wipes his forehead with his hand and decides to bring the matter to a head: “What are you doing in Costa Rica, Herr Dörsam?”

Dörsam leans back. “I’ll be visiting a few more Germans while I’m here. I want to know who I can count on. When we win in the fall and start putting Germany’s house back in order, will you be with us?”

“No, Herr Dörsam.”

Dörsam nods. Doesn’t seem at all disappointed. Praises the magnificent view. “You’ve really got it nice here! A little slice of paradise on earth. Maybe I’ll come back to Costa Rica someday myself.”

Soon after that Dörsam stands up, takes his time putting his jacket back on—“Get yourself an air conditioner!”—and goes stomping down the stairs, Josef following after him. Then he hears him howling.

“Look at this! Typical, these primitive country people. Don’t know that you can’t keep a squirrel in a cage.”

“Herr Dörsam?”

Dörsam keeps walking and just gives a quick glance back over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I went to the FBI back then and told them about us.”

Dörsam’s hand is on the car door. He freezes for a moment. Then turns around with a jerk.

“Oh, almost forgot. Schmuederrich sends his regards.”

“Please send him mine as well.”