"Wunderbar!" Otto said.
XVI
[ONE] Danubius Hotel Gellert Szent Gellert ter 1 Budapest, Hungary 0930 28 July 2005 When they walked up to the registration desk of the hotel, the manager on duty said that Herr Goerner had a call, and led him around the corner of the marble desk to a bank of house telephones.
Castillo watched him impatiently.
Goerner returned after a minute wearing a wide smile.
"That was Eric Kocian," he announced, "and what we're going to do now is go to our rooms, put on our robes, and visit the baths."
"I don't have time for a swim or a steam bath," Castillo said. "I came here to see this man Kocian."
"To accomplish the latter, Karl, I'm afraid you must do the former."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"In a way I'm looking forward to this," Goerner said, smiling. "What is that line, 'What happens when the irresistible force meets the unmovable object'? I think we are about to see."
"Are you going to explain that? Or keep talking in riddles with a smug smile on your face?"
"Eric has the habit at this time of day of visiting the baths," Goerner said. "He suggested that we could talk there. The alternative is to meet him for lunch at the Karpatia at half past one. That's on Ferenciek tere, in the-"
"I know where it is," Castillo cut him off. "Jesus Christ!" Wrapped in thick white terry cloth robes, their feet in slippers, and their genitals contained in small-and, Castillo was convinced, transparent-when-wet-cotton swimming pouches, Castillo, Goerner, Fernando, Torine, and Kranz entered the thermal baths of the hotel.
"Fancy," Sergeant Kranz said. "Looks like something from ancient Rome."
"It was intended to look like ancient Rome," Goerner said. "They say there has been a thermal bath here for centuries."
"Where's Kocian?" Castillo asked.
"About halfway down the pool," Goerner said. "See the man with the float?"
There were perhaps fifteen people in the water, their individual conversations unintelligible as the hard acoustics of water and tile created a sort of deep-toned white noise. Halfway down the steaming pool, in water reaching almost to his neck, a head covered with luxuriant silver hair was almost hidden behind a floating table. On the table were a metal pitcher, an ashtray, several newspapers and magazines, two books, and a cellular telephone.
The man was looking at them without expression, his jaws clamped around a large, black cigar.
"What do we do, just jump in and swim up to him?" Castillo asked.
"It would be more polite if you slowly lowered yourself into the water and waded to him," Otto said. "This is a bath, Karl, not a swimming pool."
Goerner tossed his robe on a marble bench, slid out of his slippers, and went slowly into the pool by a flight of underwater stairs.
I never thought I would be a prude, Castillo thought, but the only word to describe Otto with his privates in that tiny jockstrap is "obscene."
When Otto reached the bottom of the stairs, he was in water just over his waist.
Well, at least his crotch and far-from-athletic buttocks are now concealed from public view.
Castillo shook his head, quickly tossed his robe on a marble bench, and very quickly went down the stairs into the water and then waded across the pool after Goerner.
Fernando, Torine, and Kranz took off their robes, looked at each other, shook their heads, and then, as if someone had barked "Ready! Run! Dive!" took running dives into the water.
The bushy white eyebrows on Eric Kocian's ruddy, jowly face rose in amazement at this display of bad manners.
"Good morning, Eric," Goerner said, when he'd waded close.
"Gruss Gott, Otto," Kocian replied in a thick Viennese accent.
"This is Karl Gossinger, Eric," Goerner said. "Do you remember him?"
"The distinguished Washington correspondent of the Tages Zeitung? That Karl Gossinger?"
"Guten morgen, Herr Kocian," Charley said.
"I was fond of your mother and your grandfather," Kocian said. "I never thought much of your uncle Willi. You look a lot like Willi."
"Thank you for sharing that with me," Castillo said in German and then switched to Viennese gutter dialect. "Can we cut the bullshit, Herr Kocian? I don't have time to play games with you."
"I'm crushed," Kocian said. "I know you have time to play games with Otto and our readers."
"Excuse me?"
A hand came out of the water and a pointing finger dripped water on one of the magazines. It was The American Conservative.
"There's a reason for that," Castillo said.
"It's easier to steal someone else's story than to write your own?"
"There's a reason for that," Castillo repeated.
"I'd love to know what it is," Kocian said.
"Because being the Washington correspondent for the Tages Zeitung is a cover for what I really do," Charley said.
"Which is?"
"I'm an Army officer."
Kocian considered that long enough to puff twice on his cigar.
"An Army intelligence officer, you mean?" he asked.
Castillo nodded.
Kocian looked at Otto Goerner, who nodded.
"You'll have to forgive me, Herr Gossinger. I'm an old man, my brain is slowing down, and for the life of me I can't understand why an American Army intelligence officer would confess that. To anyone, much less a real journalist."
"Because Otto has led me to believe we're on the same side."
"The same side of what, Mr. Intelligence Officer?"
"I'm after the people who are willing to kill to keep it from getting out that they've profited from the oil-for-food arrangement. Isn't that what you're doing?"
"You told him that, did you, Otto?" Kocian asked.
Goerner nodded.
"And what are you going to do if you learn who these people are?"
Castillo didn't immediately reply. He looked around and saw that they had an interested audience in Torine, Fernando, and Kranz.
Kranz may, just may, understand the Viennese patois. But Torine and Fernando don't. All they see is that the old guy and I are sparring, and not very politely.
"I'm unable to believe the U.S. government doesn't already know who they are," Kocian went on. "And that there are political considerations involved that have kept it from coming out."
"We don't know who murdered our chief of mission in Buenos Aires, a very nice young Marine sergeant, and seriously wounded one of my agents."
"Okay. Let's talk about that. If you find out who these people are, then what?"
"I'll deal with them."
" 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,' Herr Gossinger."
"My orders are to deal with them."
"Your orders from who?"
"Someone who remembers that the Bible also says, 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' "
"Someone with the authority to give an order like that?"
Castillo nodded.
"And what will happen when, say, your secretary of state or, for that matter, your President learns-as they inevitably will-that someone has given you these orders?"
"That's not going to be a problem, Herr Kocian."
"You're not afraid that you and whoever gave you this order will not be-what's that wonderful American phrase?-'hung out to twist in the wind'?"
"No, I'm not."
"You will excuse me, Herr Gossinger, if I think you are being naive," Kocian said. "Junior intelligence officers-and you're not old enough to be anything but a junior intelligence officer-are expendable."
"So what?" Castillo said.
"I was very fond of your grandfather and your mother. I don't want it on my conscience that I was in any way responsible for Little Karlchen being left hanging out twisting in the wind or, more likely, being strapped into a chair with his throat cut after his teeth were extracted with pliers."
"Why don't you let me worry about that?" Castillo said.
"I just told you, I was very fond of your mother and your grandfather."
"Eric, I'm as concerned as you are that Karl may be hurt, even murdered," Otto Goerner said, in the Viennese patois. "But I have reason to believe that he won't be left hanging in the breeze."