Adriana boarded her plane less than ninety minutes later, heading for Germany. The flight from Paris to Berlin was just under two hours, plenty of time for her to continue reading up on Koenig and his work revolving around Peter Paul Rubens. By the time the plane touched down in a rain-soaked Berlin, she’d learned all she could. The only question now was, would Koenig be available to talk?. On top of that, Adriana didn’t know where to find him.
The university was in session, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would be on campus. Still, it was her best bet, so when Adriana stepped off the plane and into her rental car, that’s where she went.
Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin has a history that spans a wide range of events. Founded in 1810, it is considered one of the oldest universities in Berlin. Some of the world’s most intelligent and revered people have darkened the doors at Humboldt: Einstein, Marx, Max Planck, Otto von Bismarck, and the Brothers Grimm were just a few of the famous people who walked the halls at the old university.
During the war, Humboldt, like most other institutions, was ravaged by the Nazi party. Over twenty thousand books were taken from the library to be burned in a public demonstration. Now, in the campus square, a memorial to the books is set in the ground with a massive empty shelf and a glass covering. It stands as a lasting tribute to the atrocities that usually precede greater ones.
On the drive from the airport, Adriana kept her eyes fixed on the rearview mirror to check for anyone following. It was a habit — one she didn’t mind having. It kept her sharp (most of the time anyway).
Without encountering anything suspicious, Adriana followed her phone’s GPS directions to the university. She found a parking space along the street just outside of campus, grabbed her rucksack, and headed inside through the impressive white stone gates at the entrance. The main building’s exterior granite walls shone like a bright beacon of higher learning in the middle district of the city.
Students scurried to and from various points on campus, talking, laughing, and socializing with one another under umbrellas. Some carried backpacks full of books and notepads. Others had laptop bags slung over their shoulders. A few young couples walked along slowly, holding hands over an umbrella shaft and staring into each other's eyes with youthful, ignorant passion.
Adriana shook her head and rolled her eyes as she passed by, hurrying to get out of the rain. She’d prepared for everything except the weather.
She stepped into the main building and found a young blond man working at a small information desk, his gray button-up shirt such a tight fit that Adriana wondered if he could even move in it. She shook the rain out of her bright red hair, instantly drawing the man’s attention.
“Hello,” he said in German. “May I help you?”
He was clearly eager to help an attractive woman. It didn’t hurt that Adriana had worn a tight, low-cut, black cotton top and jeans that could have been painted on. “Oh, hello,” she replied in German that held a trace of a central/east accent. Her hand went to her hair, and she brushed back one of the longer strands. “I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find a professor by the name of Helmut Koenig.”
The young man’s smile widened a little, which told her he had the information she wanted.
“Of course. Yes, that is one of the things I do here.” He slid back into his chair behind a laptop and started pecking away at the keys. His right hand clicked the mouse pad twice, and then he stopped, letting his eyes scroll down the page. “Ah yes, Dr. Koenig. He works in the philosophy building. It’s not far from here. If you like, I can get someone to watch my desk, and I'll show you where it is.”
Adriana could see the desire in his eyes. This time, his wish wouldn’t be granted. “I think I can manage on my own,” she answered. The light seemed to fade from his eyes. “I appreciate your help, though. Could you tell me how to get there?”
He nodded, defeated. “Sure.”
He grabbed a pen off the top of the desk and a brochure from a plastic display on his left. After opening the brochure, he circled a building on the map that resembled an overhead of the one they were in. “We are here,” he said. “You want to go to this building here.” He circled another building and then wrote down three numbers. “This is Professor Koenig’s office. I would walk down this hall,” he pointed to the corridor to the right, “and then go left at the end. It will take you to the next building, and you won’t be in the rain as much.” The young man wrote down another sequence of numbers and handed her the paper.
“What are the last numbers?” she asked, already pretty sure she knew the answer.
He blushed and shrugged with a hopeful gleam still in his eyes. “My desk phone number. Feel free to call it if you have any questions.” He smiled at her and winked.
She pretended to be flattered and smiled flirtatiously. “My, aren’t you helpful.”
“I try.”
“Thank you so much,” she said. “I will certainly call you if I have any trouble.”
She walked away, not so fast that she appeared to be trying to get away from him, but at the same time making it clear getting to her destination quickly was her biggest priority.
At the end of the empty corridor, she turned left and continued on. Portraits of great university leaders from down through the ages lined the walls. Some of the names were familiar; most were not, but the fact that the paintings were quite old lent at least meager credibility to their subjects. At the end of the passage, she came to another set of doors leading outside to an intermediary causeway. Steps leading to courtyards ascended and descended on either side of the covered path. Adriana pushed straight ahead into the next building, choosing to follow the young man’s instructions to avoid getting wetter than necessary.
She continued through the building, passing classrooms and offices. Most of the students were in class. As it was nearing the top of the hour, she wondered if they would be getting out soon. Her pace quickened a little at the thought of fighting through waves of students hurrying to their next class of the afternoon.
Her hand reached out and pushed the door at the end of the hall, leading onto a landing outside where she could see three other buildings. According to the map, the one on the right was where she was supposed to go. A sign outside confirmed that it was the home of the philosophical studies department.
Adriana gave a quick glance around and then darted over to the building. Once inside, she found a set of stairs near the entrance and started her ascent. She assumed the first number of his office was the floor on which it would be located. When she reached the second floor, Adriana stepped through the door and entered a hallway that reminded her of every other university she’d visited. It was as bland and uninterestingly decorated as the previous halls had been glamorous. She wasn’t surprised. It was something many universities did to draw in students. The main ground floors were designed to attract students to their programs. The higher levels were utilitarian, lacking aesthetic in lieu of functionality.
She looked at the brochure again to make certain she was on the right floor and then noticed a glass display to the right. She put her finger against the pane and scrolled down until she found Koenig’s name. There you are, Professor.
A voice thundered from forty feet away, echoing out of one of the lecture rooms. She frowned as she walked over to see what was going on. She peeked inside and saw around one hundred students listening eagerly to a man with a shiny, high forehead, curly gray hair in the back, and a brown vest over a white button-up shirt. The fact that he was speaking in German made his rant sound even angrier, but the context of his speech was actually just making a point.