He felt the plane dip, the pilot was starting his descent into Essen.
Essen. Prince Andrei Voroshin. Whom had he become?
"I don't believe itl" exclaimed Heinrich Kassel over the telephone, his voice conveying the same good-natured incredulity Taleniekov remembered from twelve years ago. "Everytime I pass the gardens in the Gruga, I pause for a moment and laugh. My wife think it must be the memory of an old girl friend." "I trust you cleared that up." "Oh, yes. I tell her it was where I nearly became an international spy and she's convinced it's an old girl friend." "Meet me at the Gruga, please. It's urgent and has nothing to do with my former business." "Are you sure? It wouldn't do for one of Essen7s more prominent attorneys to have a Russian connection. These are odd times. Rumors abound that the Baader-Meinhof are financed by Moscow, that our neighbors to the far north are up to some nasty old tricks." Taleniekov paused for a moment, wincing at the coincidence. "You have the word of an old conspirator. rm unemployed." "Really? How interesting. Gruga Park then. It's almost noon. Shall we say one o'clock? Same place in the gardens, although there'll be no flowers this time of year."
The ice on the pond glistened in the sunlight, the shrubbery curled for the cold of winter yet briefly alive in the noonday's warmth from the sky. Vasili sat on the bench; it was fifteen minutes past one and he felt the stirrings of concern. Without thinking, he touched the bulge in his right-hand pocket that was the small automatic he had purchased in Kopstadt Square, then took his hand away when he saw the hatless figure walking rapidly up the garden path.
Kassel had grown portly, and nearly bald. In his large overcoat with the black fur lapels he was the image of a successful burgomaster, his obviously expensive attire at odds with Taleniekov's memory of the fiery young lawyer who had wanted to keep you bastards outl As he drew nearer, Taleniekov saw that the face was cherubic-a great deal of Schlagsahne had gone down that throat, but the eyes were alive, still humorous... and sharp.
"I'm so sorry, my dear fellow," said the German as Taleniekov got up and accepted the outstretched hand. "A last-minute problem with an American contract." "That has a certain symmetry to it," replied Vasili. "When I returned to Moscow twelve years ago, I wrote in your file that I thought you were on Washington's payroll." "How perceptive. Actually, I'm paid out of New York, Detroit, and Los Angeles, but why quibble over cities?" "You look well, Heinrich. Quite prosperous. What happened to that very vocal champion of the underdog?" "They made him an overdog." The lawyer chuckled. "It would never have happened if you people controlled the Bundestag. I'm an unprincipled capitalist who assuages his guilt with sizable contributions to charity.
My Reichmarks do far more than my vocal chords ever did." "A reasonable statement." "I'm a reasonable man. And what appears somewhat unreasonable to me now is why you would look me up. Not that I don't enjoy your company, for I do. But why now? You say you're not employed in your former pro-
fession; what could I possibly have that you'd be interested in?" "Advice." "You have legal problems in Essen? Don't tell me a dedir-ated Communist has private investments in the Ruhr." "Only of time, and I have very little of that. I'm trying to trace a man, a family from Leningrad who came to Germany-to Essen, I'm convinced-between sixty and seventy years ago. I'm also convinced they entered illegally, and secretly bought into Ruhr industry." Kassel frowned. "My dear fellow, you're mad. I'm trying to tick off the decades-I was never very good at figures-but if I'm not mistaken, you're referring to the period between 1910 and 190. Is that correct?" "Yes. They were turbulent times." "You don't say? There was merely the great war to the south, the bloodiest revolution in history in the north, mass confusion in the eastern Slavic states, the Atlantic ports in chaos, and the ocean a graveyard. In essence, all Europe was-if I may be permitted-in flames and Essen itself experiencing an industrial expansion unseen before or since, including the Hitler years. Everything, naturally, was secret, fortunes made every day.
Into this insanity comes one White Russian selling his jewels-as hundreds did-to buy himself a piece of the pie in any of a dozen companies,