“But you don’t consider the rest of us,” Dieter said. “The effect it might have.” He waved his hand in a circle. “A decision like this-it will draw attention to all of us.”
“But only I would be going.”
“And then they think, who else? Who’s next? Remember during the war, how they watched us?”
“The war’s over.”
“That one, yes. Now a new one. And look where you’d go. The other side. You think it’s so pleasant there now? At least wait a little.”
“I’m an old man, Dieter. How long should I wait?”
“You make yourself old.” Dieter poured more brandy in the glasses. “You talk to him,” he said to Ostermann.
“Maybe we’re a little selfish,” Ostermann said. “We don’t want to see you go.”
“You want to speak German, go to Switzerland,” Dieter said. “Lion is thinking about that. Zurich.”
“Lion has money. No one is asking me to come to Zurich.”
“There’s no rush,” Liesl said to Heinrich. “You can stay with me for a while if you like. The room just sits there.”
“But what about-” Heinrich looked at Ben.
“I’m not there anymore.”
“No. In that apartment,” Dieter said. “You know, where Daniel-” He shook his head. “It seems so strange to me. You don’t feel-”
“He didn’t die there,” Liesl said into her glass. “He died at the hospital.”
Ben looked up, jarred, as if he had just heard a skip on a record, a needle scratch. The hospital, those awful last minutes, people racing, Liesl’s face as she stood in the doorway, “Don’t leave me,” the last thing he’d ever say. But Ben had.
“A technicality,” Dieter said.
“I still wonder to myself, what was on his mind?” Kaltenbach said, then looked at Liesl. “Forgive me. An intrusion. It’s just-someone with so much courage.”
Liesl drew on her cigarette, as if she hadn’t heard, then tamped it on the ashtray, preoccupied.
“You think it’s an act of weakness,” Ostermann said. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the hardest. The rest-you can do anything if you have to.”
“You? With your good moral character?”
“Is there such a thing? I used to think so. Very clear. The Nazis are here,” he said, putting his hand at one end of the table. “And we’re here?” Bookending the other. He moved both to the middle. “No, here somewhere. Mixed together. We know that now. We can cross any line. But that last one-”
“Such talk,” Liesl said, rubbing out the cigarette.
“Any line?” Ben said. “Not killing someone.”
“Look how often we do it. It’s only ourselves we can’t.”
Kaltenbach nodded, settling in for a longer discussion. Ben stood up.
“I want to get an early start back,” he said, an apology.
“But the studios are closed Sunday,” Dieter said. “Even Continental. Well, a last one for me. Liesl? Another brandy?”
“No, no,” she said, picking up her glass and finishing it.
Another skip on the record, watching her drink. He felt the back of his neck go still, the way it had watching the screen test. Except this time he saw Ruth Harris on the penthouse terrace. Easy enough for a woman to do. He shook his head. More interference, dust.
“And you come, too,” she said to her father. “You’ll be up all night, the two of you.”
Outside they all looked up again. Ben tilted his head to where Eric’s star would be-bright and clear, if you knew how to find it. The letter, he thought, was a kind of telescope. The names were out there somewhere, in a bigger file.
No entries turned up at Minot’s office.
“You got me down here on a Sunday morning?” Riordan said, eyes still a little puffy with sleep. Ben had gone straight to his apartment, waking him with drugstore coffee.
“I wanted to make sure. They’re new.”
“So now you’re sure,” Riordan said, waiting.
“We need to get this to the Bureau,” Ben said, holding out the letter.
“We.”
“You could get it to the right desk faster. One of their own.”
“Retired. It’s not exactly a two-way street with the Bureau. They have to be careful, doing favors for the congressman. People get touchy about that.”
“Dennis.”
He sighed. “Why the Bureau?”
“They’re interested in the same people Minot’s interested in. Look, somebody sent this to Danny. Which means they sent it to you, too. You’ve got an interest here. Nobody has files like the Bureau. I’ll bet there’s one on me.”
“Security check,” Dennis said automatically, then half smiled at Ben’s reaction. “You asked.”
“All right,” Ben said. “So, my point. And who’d know better than Danny? He was a source. You the only one he dealt with? Maybe there was someone else he got to know. With access. How much do they give Minot? A spoonful once in a while?”
“They’re careful. I said.”
“So maybe Danny found a backdoor.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Let’s see where the letter comes from. What the lab says. That’s the stuff they’re good at, right? Every typewriter has its own signature. Paper comes from somewhere, has to. What they’re famous for.”
“You know what they’re good at? Sitting in a car all day, watching who goes in and out. I know. I used to do it. Now you want them to run a full investigation just to see who’s mailing things in San Francisco?”
“If these names are in their files, they’ll want to, don’t you think?”
“Why?”
“Because one of them killed a source.”
“Former source.”
“They still owe him.”
Riordan said nothing for a moment, then handed him the letter. “Make a copy. Sometimes things go into the Bureau, they don’t come back.”
Ben sat down and started to write.
“And if they come up dry with these?”
“There’s always a file somewhere,” Ben said.
In Frankfurt there had been rooms of them, millions of index cards, the whole crime at your fingertips.
“This doesn’t come from Minot,” Riordan said. “He’s careful, too. No official ties.”
“Just warm feelings. Can you get it to them today? Sunday, I know, but the Bureau never sleeps, right?”
“Why the rush?”
“Whoever mailed this didn’t know Danny was dead. But somebody else has the key now. How long does he wait for it to show up?”
“Assuming he knows it’s coming.”
“Then why take the key?”
“Want to be sure? Put a dummy letter in. See if it stays there.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Move out.”
He had just finished the names when he heard the lock turn. Without even thinking he covered the paper with another and folded the original in its envelope, his eyes fixed on the shadow behind the translucent glass. Minot opened the door and stopped, staring at them for a second, then took off his hat.
“On your way to church?” he said.
Ben saw Riordan freeze, a burglar caught, too slow-witted to make a move.
“Congressman,” Ben said. “You’re up early.”
“What are you doing here?” he said bluntly.
“Making a report. Dennis was good enough to come down. My only day off.”
“A report.”
“I spent the weekend with the group-Ostermann, Kaltenbach. You asked, so I wanted to get it down while it was still fresh in my mind. Tomorrow I’m at the studio all day.”
“While what’s still fresh? Kaltenbach? The Russian consul come, too?” he said dryly.
“It was just the Krauts,” Riordan said, as if they’d already been over this.
“We went to the observatory. See the stars.” Something easily confirmed.
“And? What happened? That couldn’t wait?”
Ben glanced up, aware of Minot’s eyes, expectant, waiting to be fed.
“Nothing much,” Ben said, flailing inside, looking for something. “But I thought what would interest you is that he’s got a new Czech passport.”
“What?” Minot put his hat on a table and walked over, galvanized.
“He had one before,” Ben said easily. “You probably know. Passport of convenience. But the new government’s agreed to reissue, so I thought you’d-”