visit the castle, ponder the dungeon, maybe. We can have lunch in a nice restaurant, separate tables for the sake of propriety, but it will be pleasant nonetheless.”
“Castles? You struck me as someone interested solely in bulldozer parts.”
“Of course, that’s what this is all about, don’t misunderstand. I know it, and so do you.” He sighed and put away the notebook. “And so, we can be sure, does our mutual friend Jenö.”
“I may be busy and thus difficult to follow for the next several days. I’ve been making it easy for you, but I do know how to slip a tail. Why don’t you take time off? Go have dinner, clear your mind, read a book.”
“A tempting proposition, Inspector. But I must decline. Do your best. I’ll see you when I see you. Incidentally, if you like jazz, there are some good clubs around. Just ask.”
2
On arriving in Geneva, Sohn had gone directly to the mission. Then, when it was still early, he came to see me. He was waiting across the street from my hotel when I stepped outside. I made a mental note to tell M. Beret to put a bench there. I don’t like guests having to stand around. As soon as Sohn was sure I’d seen him, he started walking up the street, which according to the simple code we’d agreed on at our last meeting in Pyongyang meant he wanted me to walk in the other direction. The “other direction” in this case was down the hill toward town. If things went according to plan, he would double back and find me, assuming I could remember the prearranged pattern I was supposed to follow. Yesterday had been the third of March; that meant this was a morning for threes. Three blocks, then a right turn. Another three blocks, then a left turn. Three more blocks, then another right. It didn’t seem to me to be the best technique for a foreign city, since we could just as easily end up in the lake with the swans, but it would have to do under the circumstances. I didn’t know where all the turns would put us exactly; wherever it was, once he was there, it was up to Sohn to decide whether he wanted to go ahead with a meeting. If he saw something he didn’t like, he would call it off. At some point, M. Beret would get a report that I had been out walking, but I doubted his people would know for sure who Sohn was for a couple of days at least. The Israelis, who were keeping tabs on me even though I couldn’t figure out how, might imagine that I had sent their message and that Sohn had come running. If they wanted to meet with him, it was up to them to arrange the contact. I was through playing messenger boy.
My three-block dance led finally to a street with small shops, a playground, and a bar called Sunflower. The door was propped open with a box, so I went in and waited. The man behind the bar told me in French, then in German, and finally in English that they didn’t open until 5:00 P.M. I shrugged. He shrugged back. I sat down on one of the barstools to wait. Five minutes later Sohn popped in. The man behind the bar started to explain again that the bar was not open, but Sohn ignored him and walked to a table in the back.
“Too bad,” I said. “You just missed my brother.”
“Is that so?” Sohn turned around and pantomimed drinking something to the man behind the bar.
“The place is closed,” I said. “We’re lucky if he doesn’t kick us out.”
The man walked over with two glasses of beer and set them down, not very gently, on the table. “That will be all,” Sohn said, in French. I kept most of my composure.
“You speak French?” I asked when we were alone again.
“Of course I know French, Inspector, doesn’t everyone in the civilized world?” He held up his glass and studied it closely. “This beer is very Swiss, I’m afraid. Don’t drink it unless you have to.” He took a sip and grimaced. “Now, about your brother. You saw him off?”
“No. He told me he was leaving.”
“Well, he didn’t go anywhere. He doesn’t have tickets, and he doesn’t have reservations. I think he still has shirts at the laundry, you know, those blue shirts he likes. Surprised? He lied to you.”
“You want me