«I’d like to wash up. I had a nasty fall.»
«Certainly. Over there, sir.» The manager pointed to the men’s room. «Professor Kessler has arrived. He’s waiting for you. I gave him your briefcase.»
«Thanks again,» said Holcroft, turning toward the door of the washroom.
He looked at his face in the mirror. There were no stains, no dirt, no blood. But there was something in his eyes, a look associated with pain and shock and exhaustion. And fear. That’s what the manager had seen.
He ran the water in the basin until it was lukewarm, doused his face and combed his hair and wished he could take that look out of his eyes. Then he returned to the manager, who led him to a booth at the rear of the hall, farthest from the room’s activity. The red-checked curtain was drawn across the table.
«Herr Professor?»
The curtain was pulled aside, revealing a man in his mid-forties with a large girth and a full face framed by a short beard and thick brown hair combed straight back over his head. It was a gentle face, the deep-set eyes alive, tinged with anticipation, even humor.
«Mister Holcroft?»
«Dr. Kessler?»
«Sit down, sit down.» Kessler made a brief attempt to rise as he held out his hand; the contact between his stomach and the table prevented it. He laughed and looked at the pub’s manager. «Next week! Ja, Rudi? Our diets.»
«Ach, natürlich, Professor.»
«This is my new friend from America. Mr. Holcroft.»
«Yes, we met earlier.»
«Of course you did. You gave me his briefcase.» Kessler patted Noel’s attaché case, next to him on the seat. «I’m drinking scotch. Join me, Mr. Holcroft?»
«Scotch’ll be fine. Just ice.»
The manager nodded and left. Noel settled back in the seat. Kessler exuded a kind of weary warmth; it was an expression of tolerance from an intellect constantly exposed to lesser minds but too kind to dwell on comparisons. Holcroft had known several men like that. Among them were his finest teachers. He was comfortable with Erich Kessler; it was a good way to begin.
«Thanks so much for seeing me. I’ve got a lot to tell you.»
«Catch your breath first,» said Kessler. «Have a drink. Calm down.»
«What?»
«You’ve had a difficult time. It’s written all over your face.»
«It’s that obvious?»
«I’d say you were that distraught, Mr. Holcroft»
«It’s Noel. Please. We should get to know each other.»
«A pleasant prospect, I’m sure. My name is Erich. It’s a chilly night outside. Too cold to go without an overcoat. Yet you obviously arrived without one. There’s no checkroom here.»
«I was wearing one. I had to get rid of it. I’ll explain.»
«You don’t have to.»
«I’m afraid I do. I wish I didn’t, but it’s part of my story.»
«I see. Ah, here’s your scotch.»
A waiter deposited the glass in front of Holcroft, then stepped back and drew the red-checked curtain across the booth.
«As I said, it’s part of the story.» Noel drank.
«Take your time. There’s no hurry.»
«You said you had guests at your house.»
«A guest. A friend of my brother’s, from München. He’s a delightful fellow, but long-winded. A trait not unknown among doctors. You’ve rescued me for the evening.»
«Won’t your wife be upset?»
«I’m not married. I was, but I’m afraid university life was rather confining for her.»
«I’m sorry.»
«She’s not. She married an acrobat. Can you imagine? From the academic groves to the rarefied heights of alternating trapezes. We’re still good friends.»
«I think it would be difficult not to be friendly with you.»
«Oh, I’m a terror in the lecture rooms. A veritable lion.»
«Who roars but can’t bring himself to bite,» said Noel.
«I beg your pardon?»
«Nothing. I was remembering a conversation I had last night. With someone else.»
«Feeling better?»
«That’s funny.»
«What is?»
«That’s what I said last night.»
«With this someone else?» Kessler smiled again. «Your face seems more relaxed.»
«If it was any more relaxed, it’d be draped over the table.»
«Perhaps some food?»
«Not yet. I’d like to start; there’s a great deal to tell you, and you’re going to have a lot of questions.»
«Then I shall listen carefully. Oh, I forgot. Your briefcase.»
The German reached beside him and lifted the attaché case to the top of the table.
Holcroft unlocked the case, but did not open it. «There are papers in here you’ll want to study. They’re not complete, but they’ll serve as confirmation for some of the things I’m going to tell you.»
«Confirmation? Are the things you say you must tell me so difficult to accept?»
«They may be,» said Noel. He felt sorry for this good-natured scholar. The peaceful world he lived in was about to collapse around him. «What I’m going to say to you may interrupt your life, as it has mine. I don’t think that can be avoided. At least, I couldn’t avoid it, because I couldn’t walk away from it. Part of the reason was selfish; there’s a great deal of money involved that will come to me personally—as it will come to you. But there are other factors that are much more important than either you or me. I know that’s true, because if it weren’t, I’d have run away by now. But I won’t run. I’m going to do what I’ve been asked to do because it’s right. And because there are people I hate who want to stop me. They killed someone I loved very much. They tried to kill another.» Holcroft stopped suddenly; he had not meant to go this far. The fear and the rage were coming together. He had lost control; he was talking too much. «I’m sorry. I could be reading a lot of things into all this that don’t belong. I don’t mean to frighten you.»
Kessler put his hand on Noel’s arm. «Frightening me isn’t a concern. You’re overwrought and exhausted, my friend. Apparently, terrible things have happened to you.»
Holcroft drank several swallows of whiskey, trying to numb the pain in his groin and his neck. «I won’t lie. They have. But I didn’t want to start this way. It wasn’t very bright.»
Kessler removed his hand from Noel’s arm. «Let me say something. I’ve known you less than five minutes, and I don’t think being bright is relevant. You’re obviously a highly intelligent man—a very honest one, too—and you’ve been under a great strain. Why not simply start at the beginning without worrying how it affects me?»
«Okay.» Holcroft put his arms on the table, his hands around the glass of whiskey. «I’ll begin by asking you if you’ve ever heard the names Von Tiebolt and … Clausen.»
Kessler stared at Noel for a moment. «Yes,» he said. «They go back many years—to when I was a child—but of course I’ve heard them. Clausen and Von Tiebolt. They were friends of my father’s. I was very young, around ten or eleven. They came to our house frequently, if I recall, at the end of the war. I do remember Clausen; at least I think I do. He was a tall man and quite magnetic.»
«Tell me about him.»
«There’s not much I can remember.»
«Anything can. Please.»
«Again, I’m not sure how to put it. Clausen dominated a room without making any effort to do so. When he spoke, everyone listened, yet I don’t recall his ever raising his voice. He seemed to be a kind man, concerned for others, but extremely strong willed. I thought once—and remember, these were the thoughts of a child—that he was someone who had lived with much pain.»