I walked through the Lustgarten. In front of the state castle was a bridge that led across the Havel and over an island to the Teltower Tor Station, where I caught a train back to Berlin.

25

WASHED AND SHAVED and wearing a change of clothes, I walked back into the Adlon, encountering both surprise and delight, not to mention a certain amount of suspicion. It wasn’t unknown for staff to pull a sicky for a few days and then return with the same explanation as me. Sometimes it was even true. Behlert greeted me much as he might have greeted a tomcat returning home after an absence of several days and nights: with a mixture of amusement and contempt.

“Where have you been?” he said, scolding. “We’ve been worried about you, Herr Gunther. Thank goodness your friend, Detective Sergeant Stahlecker, has been able to take on some of your duties.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“But even he was unable to find out what had happened to you. No one at the police praesidium at Alexanderplatz seemed to know anything. It’s not at all like you to disappear like that. What happened?”

“I’ve been staying at another hotel, Georg,” I told him. “The one run by the police in Potsdam. And I didn’t enjoy it. Not one bit. I’m thinking of walking around to that MER travel bureau on Unter den Linden and telling them not to recommend it any longer as a place to stay when you’re in Potsdam. You can sleep much more comfortably in the river. In fact, I very nearly did.”

Behlert glanced uncomfortably around the mausoleumlike entrance hall. “Please, Herr Gunther, keep your voice down or else someone will overhear, and then we’ll both be in trouble with the police.”

“I wouldn’t be in trouble if it wasn’t for the help of one of our guests, Georg.”

“Who can you mean?”

I might have mentioned the name of Max Reles. But I saw no point in explaining exactly what had happened. Like the majority of law-abiding Berliners, Behlert preferred to know as little as possible about those things that might get him into trouble. And, in a way, I respected that. Given my own recent experiences, it was probably the more sensible way to be. So instead I said, “Frau Charalambides, of course. You know I’ve been working for her. Helping her write this article.”

“Yes, I did know. And I can’t say that I approved. In my opinion, it was wrong of Frau Adlon to ask you. It put you in a very difficult position.”

I shrugged. “That can’t be helped. Not now. Is she in the hotel?”

“No.” He looked awkward. “I think perhaps you had better speak to Frau Adlon. As a matter of fact, she inquired about you only this morning. I believe she’s in her apartment, upstairs.”

“Has something happened to Frau Charalambides?”

“She’s fine, I can assure you. Shall I telephone Frau Adlon and suggest an appointment for you?”

But sensing something was wrong, I was already running upstairs.

Outside Hedda’s apartment I knocked and, hearing her voice, turned the handle and opened the door. She was sitting on the sofa, smoking a cigarette and reading a copy of Fortune magazine, which, given she had one, seemed only appropriate. Seeing me, she threw Fortune aside and stood up. She looked relieved to see me.

“Thank goodness you’re all right,” she said. “I’ve been worried about you.”

I closed the door. “Where is she?”

“Gone home to New York,” said Hedda. “She left on yesterday’s boat from Hamburg.”

“Then I guess she wasn’t as worried as you.”

“There’s no need to be like that, Bernie. It’s not how it is at all. Her leaving Germany and promising not to write about the Olympics was the price she paid to get you out of jail. And quite possibly to keep you out of jail as well.”

“I see.” I walked over to the sideboard and picked up one of her decanters. “Do you mind? It’s been one of those-weeks.”

“Please. Help yourself.” Hedda went over to her desk and opened the lid.

I poured one out-quite a large one of whatever it was, I didn’t much care-and sucked it down like it was a medicine I’d prescribed for myself. It tasted horrible, so I prescribed myself another and brought it back to the sofa.

“She left you this.” Hedda handed me an Adlon envelope.

I slipped it into my pocket.

“It’s my fault for getting you into this in the first place.”

I shook my head. “I knew what I was doing. Even when I knew that what I was doing was, perhaps, ill advised.”

“Noreen always did have that effect on people,” said Hedda. “When we were both girls, it was nearly always I who got caught for some infraction of the school rules, and Noreen who got away with it. But I was never deterred by that. I was always up for our next escapade. Perhaps I should have warned you about her. I don’t know. Maybe. Even now it feels like I’m the one who has to stay behind and make up her grades and offer an apology.”

“I knew what I was doing,” I repeated dully.

“She drinks too much,” said Hedda, by way of an explanation. “She and Nick, her husband. I assume she told you all about him.”

“Some.”

“She drinks, and it doesn’t seem to affect her in the least. Everyone who’s around her drinks, and it affects them a great deal. That’s what happened to poor Nick. Goodness, he never drank at all until he met Noreen.”

“She’s very intoxicating.” I tried a smile, but it didn’t come out right. “I expect I’ll have a hangover before I get over it.”

Hedda nodded. “Take a few days off, why don’t you? The rest of the week, if you like. After five nights in jail you could probably use a break. Your friend Herr Stahlecker will cover for you.” She nodded. “It’s worked out very well with him. He doesn’t have your experience, but-”

“Perhaps I will take some time off. Thanks.” I finished my second drink. It didn’t taste any better than the first. “Incidentally, is Max Reles still staying in the hotel?”

“Yes, I think so. Why?”

“No reason.”

“He told me you got his property back for him. He was very pleased.”

I nodded. “Maybe I’ll go away somewhere. Würzburg, perhaps.”

“Have you got family in Würzburg?”

“No. But I’ve always wanted to go there. It’s the capital of Franconia, you know. Besides, it’s the opposite end of Germany from Hamburg.”

I didn’t mention Dr. Rubusch, or the fact that the only reason I was going there was that he was from Würzburg.

“Stay at the Palace Hotel Russia House,” she said. “I believe it’s the best hotel in the state. Have a rest. Catch up on some sleep. You look tired. Put your feet up. If you like, I’ll telephone the hotel manager and get you a special rate.”

“Thanks. I will.” But I didn’t tell her that the last thing I intended to do was put my feet up. Not now that Noreen was gone out of my life for good.