“How did you get in?”
“Benny let me in.”
“Benny.”
“Ezraki. Don’t tell me that you don’t know Benny.”
The name came back to him. An Israeli friend of his grandfather, did marketing research or something. Ex-Mossad, as if any of them were really ex-anything.
“Yeah, I know him. But I never gave him my keys.”
“He’s got this big set of skeleton keys, says he can open eighty percent of the ordinary locks in the city.”
“That’s comforting. Why did he bring you here?”
“I got myself into some trouble.” She tried to sound flip, but her voice broke. “He didn’t think I should go back to my place right away.”
Matthew turned swiftly to bolt the useless locks, and turned back just as she rushed into him, knocking her forehead against his chin.
“Sorry.”
“It’s OK.”
He held her for several minutes, arms wrapped tightly, fingers digging into her ribs. Strange to feel such comfort, to be able to give such comfort in the midst of such distress. He had not expected to hold her again. His mind had been packed with all the explanations, justifications, pleas with which he might win back her trust, all of them insufficient and unconvincing even to his own ears. Yet here she was. No explanations, no excuses. Warm breath on his neck, the aloe scent of her shampoo.
“I feel so stupid,” she said into his collar. “And frightened.”
“Tell me what happened.”
She released him slowly, sat down at the little kitchen table. He boiled water for tea they would not drink while she told him of Rosenthal, del Carros, and the encounter at the cathedral. By the time he told her of his misadventures in Greece it was three o’clock in the morning. He held her hands across the table, shaking from fatigue.
“I can’t believe you went hunting for that guy after the speech you gave me last week.”
“I assumed he was just some old collector,” she answered. “It didn’t seem dangerous. I thought I might learn a few things.”
“You did that, all right,” he laughed.
“Well, I was told some things, anyway. You have to consider the source. Then I had to open my big mouth, pretend to know secrets. I wonder if they’ll come looking for me.”
“I doubt it. Now that they know people are protecting you.”
“Maybe they believe I know where the icon is.”
“What does Benny think?”
“What you said. They were willing to grab me while they had the chance, but they won’t try again. They just want the icon. I can’t get that fucking thing out of my life even when I give it away.”
That’s because you let me into your life, he almost answered, but thought better of it. They were silent for some moments.
“So they’re gone, right?” Ana spoke again. “The icon, and your godfather.”
“It looks that way. Actually, I have a wild guess where he is.”
“Really, where? No, don’t tell me.”
“I have no intention of telling you. In fact, I’m trying hard to let all this go.”
She squeezed his hands firmly.
“That’s exactly what we need to do.”
“I’m so tired.”
“You should sleep. I can go now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m sure it’s safe. You need time to get your head together.”
“You’re not going anywhere. You are not leaving my sight.”
“OK.” She smiled at him. “But I’m not sure I can sleep. I’m afraid I’ll have nightmares of people chasing me.”
“I felt like someone was chasing me tonight.”
“When?”
“Earlier. In the subway, all the way home. Don’t worry, it wasn’t anyone. Just paranoia, but it really felt like someone, or something, was after me.”
“This thing is eating you alive. Please tell me you’ll let it go.”
“I will,” he said, in a tone that sounded convincing even to himself. “I have to, I’m not cut out for this.”
She came around the table and held him again. “Promise me.”
“I promise myself. I want out.” He closed his eyes. “I just pray that they leave us alone.”
“It could have been him. It could very well have been him.”
They had retreated from the coffee shop to the car so that Benny could smoke. In any case, it afforded a better view of Matthew’s street. Neither the boy nor Ana had emerged yet, which Andreas took as a likely sign of reconciliation.
“But you can’t be sure,” said Andreas.
“How can I be sure?” Benny slammed his door and lit up immediately. A heavy white bandage covered his left forearm and made some actions clumsy. “I’ve never seen him, just photographs. All old men look alike.”
“So what makes you think it might be him?”
“The face was close enough. And he would have someone like that Dutchman around him. Why does a simple collector need someone like that?”
“He is no simple collector. A dangerous man, certainly. That doesn’t mean he’s Muller.”
“The Kessler woman thinks he is.”
“What are her reasons?”
“Female intuition? I don’t know; she was too shaken for me to debrief her properly. But apparently he admitted seeing the icon years before. More than seeing it. She had the impression that he had spent time with it, maybe owned it. Then, when he was about to get rid of her, she accused him of stealing it. Just to get a reaction.”
“Which she did, it would seem.”
“Oh, yes. His interest in continuing the conversation grew immeasurably after that. He managed to frighten her out of her wits. I can only assume that she had done the same to him, somehow.”
“I didn’t realize she even knew Muller existed.”
“She may not, by name, anyway. But she isn’t stupid, she’s heard rumors. Her grandfather got the icon as loot from a Nazi officer. She doesn’t have to know his name to guess that this might be the guy.”
“Of course. Damned foolish of her to taunt him with that.”
“She didn’t know what she was dealing with.”
“It’s good you were there.”
“It’s good that you put me on to watching her. Now we may have
