“No. Just lock up when you go, not that it will do any good. Who else knew you were going there?”
“Nobody. Spur of the moment. I was up late studying for midterms and wanted something to read once I’m done. Unless…”
“What?”
“Maybe somebody overheard us at Martin’s. When you told me to come by anytime.”
“Doubtful. You should get some sleep if you’ve got a midterm. Don’t worry about the house. Probably somebody’s idea of a joke. It might even be somebody from my office. If they’d wanted to do real damage they would’ve done it.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Doing well, in fact.” I wondered how he’d react if he knew about Litzi, but this wasn’t the time for that. “Your granddad’s here. We’re having breakfast. Want to talk to him?”
“Sure.”
“But then get out of there and get back to your dorm, understand?”
“Yes.”
“I mean it.”
“I know!”
I handed over the phone, still a little worried for him, although it was a pleasure watching Dad light up as he asked about David’s lacrosse and all his courses. Even as I fretted the passing seconds, checking my watch and motioning to Dad to move things along, I was already wondering why Edwin Lemaster had created a character that, except for the limp, was a dead ringer for Lothar Heinemann. Obviously it had been too long since I’d read A Lesson in Tradecraft or I would have remembered the Klarmann character the moment I laid eyes on Lothar. But now that I had the message, what sort of “work” of Lothar’s was I supposed to go out and find?
Dad finally hung up and slid my phone back across the table. Then he watched me carefully.
“You going to tell me what that was all about?”
“I need a book first.”
“Not another destroyed one, I hope?”
I went to the living room and brought back his copy of A Lesson in Tradecraft. Then I told him about the break-in and the message, and finished by reading aloud the passage from page 119.
“Lothar,” he said. “He’s turning up everywhere, isn’t he?”
“I think he’s following me.”
“I wish I could say I was surprised. Surveillance is an old hobby of his. Although he used to reserve it for his competition. Whenever someone was getting items he wasn’t, he’d follow them for days at a time to find out how the they were pulling it off. Strange fellow.”
“You always said Lemaster never wrote about real characters, that they were just novels.”
“That’s because you were usually asking about someone at the embassy.”
I waited for more. Got nothing.
“This person who stole your books,” Dad said. “If he’s the one who ruined my copy of Knee Knockers then he’s been covering a lot of ground. He got you started on this mess, and now you’re letting him use you to get whatever he wants.”
“Maybe all he wants is the truth.”
“We’ve both been around long enough to know that’s bullshit.”
He was right, of course. In Washington, “I only want the truth” has become the biggest lie since “Your check’s in the mail.”
“Okay. So maybe he has an ax to grind with Lemaster.”
“Then it had better be a big one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at who Ed’s biggest fans and defenders are these days, or haven’t you noticed? Pentagon brass, defense contractors. All those people he makes look like patriotic geniuses. I doubt they’d be happy if someone started implying they were spilling their best stuff to a proven traitor in the name of novelistic research. And you could say the same about everybody he ever worked for at the Agency. What else do you know about this fellow who’s leading you on like this?”
“Pretty much nothing.”
“What other passages has he marked up for you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have all morning.”
“First you can tell me what you were really doing yesterday at the embassy.”
“No, first we can go back to what we were talking about before the phone rang. The Vienna police, and their description of that slender couple, modestly dressed.”
“Like I said, could be anybody.”
“Look, son. I don’t need to know everything you’re up to. Maybe you think it’s for my own good as much as yours. If anyone can understand that rationale, I certainly can. But from what I’m hearing, people are rather stirred up in certain quarters, and I’m concerned that you’re the one who’s stirring them up.”
“Which quarters?”
“You can probably guess.”
I sighed, feeling cornered. Then I decided to take the plunge. I would tell him everything, from the very beginning. At the rate he was going he’d know half of it by tomorrow night anyway. Maybe he would even be able to help.
I swallowed some coffee, collected myself, and began.
18
I went on for nearly an hour.
Dad frowned early and often, especially when I confirmed his suspicions about our involvement with Trefimov, although he seemed even more upset by my account of the Hammerhead’s discovery of my webcam.
“I can ask around about him at the embassy, if you’d like. Quietly, of course.”
“Sure. Whatever you can find out.”
“At least now I see why everyone’s in such a tizzy.”
“But why? This stuff was ages ago.”
“It’s like plutonium, son. One hell of a half-life, and lethal to the end.”
“So who do you think’s behind this?” I asked.
“Your handler? The obvious conclusion would be an old Agency hand, somebody with a grudge against Ed. Maybe even somebody from that damn funeral.”
“Why not somebody from the book world? They know these novels inside out, and hasn’t Lemaster changed publishers a few times?”
“At least twice, and never amicably. But, no, this is a spook.”
“A spook turned author, then. Just like him.”
“With what motive-professional jealousy? Even Ed would admit he’s on the skids; why kick him now? If there’s a wild card in all this, it’s his personal life.”
“Ex-wife?”
“Three. Complete unknowns. And God knows how many cuckolded husbands. That’s his truly mysterious side. The inner Ed-his lovers, his enemies. No one I’ve come across has ever known a damn thing about any of that, so take your pick.”
“Maybe Lothar knows. What do you think this message about him means when it says, ‘Find his work’?”
“Well, Lothar’s a book scout. His work is whatever he comes up with. First editions, diamonds in the rough. I suppose he could have found something your handler wants.”
“You said he used to follow people. Who?”
Dad shook his head.
