“No chance of going to the Korean restaurant?”
“You’re in Prague, my friend. Try something new.” She kissed my cheek. “You never know what might be good unless you try.”
We crossed a bridge, took a streetcar, walked in narrow, winding streets. After a while, we climbed a steep hill, up a flight of stone stairs that led to more narrow streets. The café where we finally stopped was nearly empty. A few locals sat by themselves, smoking. We found a table in a corner, away from the window. She took the seat facing the door.
“Good thing we stopped,” I said. “Those hills are killers. What if I had a heart attack?”
“Sorry, I thought you’d like the exertion, give you a chance to get your blood pumping.” She leaned toward me. “Isn’t that what old friends do? Get each other’s blood moving?”
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” She was right, my heart was pumping, and not from the stairs. “I’m not in the mood, and I doubt if I’m in shape.”
“Well, well. Why don’t we stop at a pharmacy and get you some of those pills.”
“Aren’t we off track a little? I don’t think Kang set up this meeting for us to play the sultan and the harem.”
“It may have crossed his mind. Kang has a strange sense of mission sometimes. But you’re right. Business is business. Let’s have a cup of coffee and a pastry. You’re not too far gone for pastry, I hope.”
4
She looked at her watch several times while we sat and talked.
“That’s a good way to spoil a friendship,” I said. “Love dies where deadlines loom.”
“Cute,” she said. “But we have a schedule to keep. Drink your coffee and shut up.” She licked the sugar from the pastry off her lips.
She paid the bill, and we stepped out the door into the brilliant end of a golden autumn afternoon. The schedule seemed to have gone away. We walked slowly, not saying much. I was about to edge into something endearing when we came upon a stretch of lawn across from an old palace already deep in shadow.
“You ever notice that?” I dumped the endearments and knelt to run my hand across the grass.
“The palace? Looks like a cold place, too austere for me. I’d never want to get out of bed in December. Do you like to stay in bed in December, Inspector?”
“I meant the color of the grass. There is nothing in the world sadder than green, green grass on an autumn afternoon. Trees, crops in the field, animals-everything else alive knows this is the season to prepare for the worst. But grass? Hoping against hope that the sunshine won’t ever go away. Or maybe too dumb to realize what is coming. It gives me chills just to look at it.”
“Why?”
“Too many memories of when I was the same way.”
The woman leaned down so that her face was even with mine, and very close. “Don’t bring up anything like that when you talk to Kang. Don’t talk about disappointment. Don’t rake over memories. He has a job to do, and he can’t lose focus now.”
She gave me her hand and pulled me up. The light was fading. The buildings’ shadows already buried the streets. “There’s a car up ahead fifty meters on the left, a brown Škoda. Here are the keys. Go ahead and get in. I’ll be behind you by about a minute.”
“I don’t think I should drive.”
“Nor do I, Inspector. I’ll take the wheel.”
And drive she did. From the sound of it, the engine of the car seemed to have been worked on recently. There was no way of knowing if the brakes had received equal attention, because she never used them. I was not sure where we were going, but then again, I had no idea where we had been. Wherever we were headed, it was in a great hurry. I tried to fix a location in case I needed to find the spot later, but at that time of night one sixteenth-century building looks like another. The last time I was in Prague, it had been in winter. Everything had looked different then, in the gloom. We pulled up in front of a narrow three-story building with an elaborate doorway.
“Out,” she said. “Ring the bell and if that doesn’t work, knock politely. I’ve got errands to run. I’ll see you later, old friend.”
“Good thing we’re not related.”
“You react badly to pastry.” She gunned the motor. “It’s bad for your heart.”
The front door opened before the sound of the bell had faded. Richie stared out at me. He looked like hell. No, he looked like death itself.
“You better see a doctor, Richie.”
“What for? He’s not going to do anything for me.” He coughed, doubled over. “Let’s get inside; this cold air is bad for me. Everything is bad for me.”
“Where’s Kang?” I stepped in. The place was very tidy, very sterile. No one lived here.
“Kang’s not here yet. You’re early. Greta drives fast, doesn’t she?”
“Greta? Is that her name?”
“Wonderful woman, well trained, very thoughtful. She looks after Kang like she was his daughter.” He made a face. “Don’t do that again, mentioning what happened.”
“I know; I’ve been warned. He needs to stay focused.”
“Who told you that? Greta?”
“What’s her real name?̶
“Let’s sit down. I can breathe better when I’m sitting.”
We sat-Richie on the sofa, me in a pale yellow chair.
“Better? You want a glass of whiskey?” So, all right, no one was going to tell me Greta’s real name. I’d ask Li. He clearly knew who she was. He’d stopped breathing when he saw her in the parking lot at the hotel in Pyongyang.
“We don’t keep any alcohol here,” Richie’s eyes searched all the corners of the room. “In the other place, I can drink as much as I want. This is the safe house, and Kang doesn’t like liquor in a safe house. He thinks of a safe house as a chapel or something.”
“What was that charade in the square about?”
“Flushing quail.”
“And?”
“Working with Greta is a pleasure.” He coughed until his face turned red. “There isn’t a quail around who can remember to keep his head down when she gets moving. You must have done a good job getting here from Macau. There’s no one new in town that we can spot on your tail.”