The prodigal spy

“Then perhaps you would advise her.” He paused. “My concern for you-if you know what you say you don’t-would extend to anyone. It’s one thing to put yourself at risk-”

“She doesn’t know anything.”

Zimmerman smiled. “But then, neither do you. Be careful, Mr Warren.”

“Thank you. For the story.”

“A reconstruction. What might have happened.”

“You said ‘must.”’

Zimmerman shrugged. “It suggests itself. It’s not the first time.” He looked down at Nick. “But you have to be satisfied with that, with what must have happened. You understand that. You can stop playing detective.”

“And that’s why you told me? So I’d stop? Go away?”

“So you would not live with a mystery. It can be a poison.”

“Yes,” Nick said quietly, his eyes fixed on the ashtray.

“You were thinking of another?”

Nick looked up at him. “How he got here.”

Zimmerman opened his mouth to say something, then gave it up, turning away. “You will not solve that in Prague.”

“No.” Nick stood. “Do I have to sign something?”

“At your convenience. I will call you.” He gave Nick a wry glance. “If your embassy permits.”

“They don’t care. They want me to go too.”

Nick picked up the passport and held it out to him.

“No. That would only confuse Chief Novotny.” He turned to Anna. “Sometimes things are not found. It’s a pity.”

Anna nodded and took the passport.

“Not even by good Czechs who might need them,” he said to her. “You understand? Not this one.”

She nodded again. “You haven’t eaten anything,” she said.

“Another time, Anicka. Thank you. Mr Warren?”

They said goodbye to her, shaking hands, leaving her to her full table and wonderful view. On the stairs, there were no sounds but their shoes against the worn stone.

“I’ll leave first,” Zimmerman said when they reached the ground floor. “Wait a few minutes here, please. Go left, to the corner, so they can see you.”

“Aren’t they your own men?”

He smiled weakly. “But I’m careful. Like you.” He took Nick’s hand, peering closely at him. “I wonder what you know, Mr Warren.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Then that is what I’ll say.”

“Will they believe you?”

“Oh, I think so. I was a good interrogator, when we were just police.”

Nick waited in the dark stairwell, listening to the drips in the pail. Then he went out, turning toward the Old Town Square, the streets, like everything else, a maze.

Chapter 14

Molly was sitting by the window, waiting for him. “What happened?”

“A condolence call,” he said, crossing the room, avoiding her.

She waited, then looked down, disappointed. “Anna called. She wants to see you, at your father’s.”

“She say why?”

“No. Just that she has something for you.”

He stopped, attentive now. Not in the desk. Anna had found it somewhere else.

“Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll come,” she said, getting up.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. I’m going crazy here. I keep thinking they’re picking you up again.”

“They won’t. I called Zimmerman. I told him I’d sign a statement saying my father was depressed. I was worried about him. That’s why I went to see him that morning.”

“But I thought-”

“That’s how you remember it too, isn’t it?” he said, partly to the walls. “He left the concert early, after that little fight we had. If they ask.”

She stopped in front of him. “Nick, what’s going on?”

“Just say it.”

“If that’s what you want,” she said, trying to read his face.

“That’s what I want.” He turned away. “I’ll go see him after Anna and get it over with. I won’t be long.” He went over to the window and drew back the edge of the curtain. “Our friends are still here.”

“Where?” She came over and looked out. “Not very subtle, are they?”

“Not the ones we know about.”

She shivered. “Stop.” She picked up her shoulder bag from the chair. “I’m not staying here. I’m just not.”

They walked down Wenceslas, past the parky stalls and half-empty shops, heading inevitably toward the Narodni Street bridge. Where had Anna found it? Did she know what it meant? Molly, wary, said nothing, glancing over her shoulder. One of the men followed on foot, the Skoda lagging behind. They passed the corner where she had caught the tram and started across the bridge. He waited until they were halfway across before he stopped, looking over at the tree where he’d stood.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want them to lose us. I like having a bodyguard.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“My father was killed, Molly. Not depressed, killed. I don’t want to end up the same way.”

“You?”

“The guy from the embassy said I should watch my back.”

“Did he?” she said, her face blank. “Why would he say that?”

“Maybe he’s paranoid. They get like that over here. Maybe he knows.”

“Knows what?”

But instead of answering, he said, “Molly, I want you to do something. Get out of Prague, today. The ticket’s still good. Take the car if you want.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I’m paranoid too. But do it. There’s nothing you can do here. At least you’ll be safe.”

She shook her head. “Knows what?” she said again. “ Tell me.”

He turned to her, angry now. “You tell me.”

“What?”

He grabbed her arm. “Who’s Foster, Molly? Tell me.”