mouth. He ate slowly and occasionally closed his eyes. At one point he moaned in pleasure. That ruined what little appetite I had. It was doubly annoying because Jenö had ordered the perch for all of us. At last, with a final smack of his lips, the delegation sat back. “Quite good,” he said to Jenö. He looked at my plate. “Something the matter, Inspector? This fish was excellent.”

“Yes,” I said. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

“More wine?” Jenö looked at my glass. “You’re not drinking?” How to explain to the man that I wouldn’t touch anything on the table until I figured out what was going on?

“Who is doing what to whom? Isn’t that the question of the hour?” I looked from Jenö to the delegation leader, and then back to Jenö. The napkin was heavy linen. I didn’t think it could be folded into a rabbit. Maybe it could be made into a blunt object.

“Why don’t we move out to those chairs on the patio. We can have coffee and smoke cigars.” Jenö signaled the waiter. “Don’t worry, Inspector, we’ll find time to talk, as well. Whatever questions you have will be answered, as far as possible.”

“Sure, let’s talk outside, if we can hear each other over the din of cameras clicking and recorders squealing.” I looked under the table. “Did you bring your black bag?”

Jenö laughed. “Remember what I told you not so long ago, Inspector? About seeing Cossacks everywhere? Don’t be so jumpy. This place is perfectly clear and clean. We won’t be disturbed. It’s covered, believe me. It’s covered.”

I shrugged. “If you say so.” I turned to the delegation leader. “You realize you almost didn’t make it here.”

“Oh?”

“The other day, when you disappeared in the white car, the one whose mechanic hates women.”

“No, I knew you were behind me the whole time.”

“I’m not talking about me.” I watched him tighten his lips. Jenö?s eyebrows did a quizzical two-step. “I don’t know this for sure, but I’d say you’re marked. And I don’t mean for promotion.”

The delegation leader twisted his napkin into a knot and put it on the table. “You’re not telling me anything I didn’t already know, Inspector. In fact, that’s why you’re here.”

“Dessert, anyone?” Jenö stood up and led the way out to the patio.

7

“It’s very simple, Inspector. I am working for Sohn”—the delegation leader held up one spoon—“and so are you.” He held up a second spoon with his other hand. “That means we are working together. Our friend here”—he gestured at Jenö with my spoon—“has some interesting ideas that Sohn thinks should be pursued.” He pursed his lips again, which I couldn’t figure out. Was he just practicing on me? Maybe he was one of those people who forget the distinction between onstage and off. Some people go through the motions even when the motor is idling. “Sohn is working with Jenö,” he said. He looked around for another spoon, but Jenö had picked up the third one and was stirring his coffee. “That means we work with Jenö as well. There’s a certain mathematical precision to it all, don’t you think? Like reducing fractions or finding a common denominator.”

Reduced to essentials, everything was simple. But there were limits. It was just as Pak had said: Reduced too much, everything disappears. Not this, though. This wasn’t simple. And it wasn’t going to disappear. “When was the last time you saw Sohn?” Out here, by the lake, it was easy to be casual. Everything was perfect in this spot.

The delegation leader waved his hand, a gesture to show his answer wasn’t intended to be precise. “Before I left for the talks here. Last month, maybe?” He didn’t give any sign of knowing that Sohn had arrived a few days ago and would be returning to Pyongyang in a metal box. “I’ll see him when I get home.” Again, the hand waved vaguely. If I could be casual out here, so could he. He was used to lying, but I didn’t think he was used to murder.

“Let’s move on.” Jenö cut into the conversation. “Time is running out, and we need to get down to details. We can worry about Sohn later.”

Jenö was another story altogether. Jenö could lie about anything, anytime. If I’d had the slightest doubt before, I didn’t anymore. He knew about Sohn’s death. He could have learned about it from M. Beret, but then again, maybe he knew because he was close by when it happened. At the moment, all