know what to tell him, Klaus.”
“Well, you can start by just saying that Alfred Mainz has long been one of his most ardent fans, and he would be honored to
meet him.”
“Who is Alfred Mainz?”
“I am. At least for the past sixteen years. If that stuns you, I’m sorry. Not much of my life has ever been as open as I might
have liked.”
She considered him. “Is Nicko supposed to recognize the name?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because Alfred Mainz lectures on political science at the University of Rome and has published a couple of fairly well known
texts on the subject.”
Kate shook her head. “All these years and you never said a word?”
“There was never a good reason. Now there is. How about it, Katie? Will you do me this favor and please try?”
Kate nodded slowly. “I’ll call Nicko right now.”
The tiny apartment’s only telephone was in the bedroom. Kate went in and closed the door behind her.
She called an unlisted number and heard Nicko Vorelli’s voice.
“Listen, Nicko. Does the name Alfred Mainz mean anything to you?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“In what context?”
“As a comparatively young political theorist with some bright ideas. Why?”
“He’s in my living room. He also happens to be our Klaus Logefeld.”
“Did I hear you correctly?”
“Yes,” said Kate, and she went on to briefly explain.
“Fascinating,” said Nicko. “Now we know why God arranged for you to run into him two weeks ago in Rome.”
“You mean so I could get him to
you
?”
“What else?”
“I’m not sure. It just seems like an awful lot of trouble for Klaus to go through simply to talk to you.”
“Well, we don’t really know whether talking to me is all he wants. We won’t know that until he gets here.”
“You want me to bring him?”
“Damn right. And immediately. What I
don’t
want is that tricky bastard floating loose out there, knowing you shot the Walterses.”
Kate hung up, feeling in an almost trancelike state. Still, when she walked out of her bedroom moments later, her smile was
in place and she appeared at ease.
“I guess this is your lucky night,” she said.
Klaus had been gazing out at the bay. He turned. “You mean there’s a chance?”
“Nicko wants me to bring you right over.”
They made the half-hour drive along the coast road in the German’s car.
Only a few downstairs lights were on in the villa. The rest of the house was dark, with none of the servants in sight. Nicko
Vorelli opened the door. He kissed Kate on each cheek, greeted Klaus warmly, and took them into a walnut-paneled den.
Assuming the role of hostess, Kate poured some Remy Martin into three brandy snifters. Then she settled into the background
to watch quietly and listen.
Despite herself, she was fascinated. Nicko, of course, was no surprise. But Klaus Logefeld, in his persona as Alfred Mainz,
was new to her, and she was very quickly taken by his authority and perception. He spoke in a sharp, probing way about how
the end of the cold war had left statesmen in a new and dangerous kind of smog, in which the true nature of threats was obscured
by their very subtlety and numbers. He asked Nicko Vorelli insightful questions about national responsibilities and analyzed
his answers with total understanding. Perhaps most striking of all, he showed himself to be sensitive and compassionate in
regard to the human condition, yet unforgiving of its deliberate cruelties.
When almost a full hour had passed, Nicko Vorelli freshened their drinks and said quietly, “All right, Alfred. That was very
enjoyable and I’m truly impressed. Now please tell me why you’re here.”
Klaus just looked at him.
“You’re much too intelligent to be an awestruck hero-worshiper,” said Nicko. “So you must want something from me. Correct?”
Klaus did not so much as blink. “Yes.”
“Exactly what is it you want?”
“To be part of your staff at Wannsee on September 13.”
No
“Well, you can start by just saying that Alfred Mainz has long been one of his most ardent fans, and he would be honored to
meet him.”
“Who is Alfred Mainz?”
“I am. At least for the past sixteen years. If that stuns you, I’m sorry. Not much of my life has ever been as open as I might
have liked.”
She considered him. “Is Nicko supposed to recognize the name?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because Alfred Mainz lectures on political science at the University of Rome and has published a couple of fairly well known
texts on the subject.”
Kate shook her head. “All these years and you never said a word?”
“There was never a good reason. Now there is. How about it, Katie? Will you do me this favor and please try?”
Kate nodded slowly. “I’ll call Nicko right now.”
The tiny apartment’s only telephone was in the bedroom. Kate went in and closed the door behind her.
She called an unlisted number and heard Nicko Vorelli’s voice.
“Listen, Nicko. Does the name Alfred Mainz mean anything to you?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“In what context?”
“As a comparatively young political theorist with some bright ideas. Why?”
“He’s in my living room. He also happens to be our Klaus Logefeld.”
“Did I hear you correctly?”
“Yes,” said Kate, and she went on to briefly explain.
“Fascinating,” said Nicko. “Now we know why God arranged for you to run into him two weeks ago in Rome.”
“You mean so I could get him to
you
?”
“What else?”
“I’m not sure. It just seems like an awful lot of trouble for Klaus to go through simply to talk to you.”
“Well, we don’t really know whether talking to me is all he wants. We won’t know that until he gets here.”
“You want me to bring him?”
“Damn right. And immediately. What I
don’t
want is that tricky bastard floating loose out there, knowing you shot the Walterses.”
Kate hung up, feeling in an almost trancelike state. Still, when she walked out of her bedroom moments later, her smile was
in place and she appeared at ease.
“I guess this is your lucky night,” she said.
Klaus had been gazing out at the bay. He turned. “You mean there’s a chance?”
“Nicko wants me to bring you right over.”
They made the half-hour drive along the coast road in the German’s car.
Only a few downstairs lights were on in the villa. The rest of the house was dark, with none of the servants in sight. Nicko
Vorelli opened the door. He kissed Kate on each cheek, greeted Klaus warmly, and took them into a walnut-paneled den.
Assuming the role of hostess, Kate poured some Remy Martin into three brandy snifters. Then she settled into the background
to watch quietly and listen.
Despite herself, she was fascinated. Nicko, of course, was no surprise. But Klaus Logefeld, in his persona as Alfred Mainz,
was new to her, and she was very quickly taken by his authority and perception. He spoke in a sharp, probing way about how
the end of the cold war had left statesmen in a new and dangerous kind of smog, in which the true nature of threats was obscured
by their very subtlety and numbers. He asked Nicko Vorelli insightful questions about national responsibilities and analyzed
his answers with total understanding. Perhaps most striking of all, he showed himself to be sensitive and compassionate in
regard to the human condition, yet unforgiving of its deliberate cruelties.
When almost a full hour had passed, Nicko Vorelli freshened their drinks and said quietly, “All right, Alfred. That was very
enjoyable and I’m truly impressed. Now please tell me why you’re here.”
Klaus just looked at him.
“You’re much too intelligent to be an awestruck hero-worshiper,” said Nicko. “So you must want something from me. Correct?”
Klaus did not so much as blink. “Yes.”
“Exactly what is it you want?”
“To be part of your staff at Wannsee on September 13.”
No
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