A Quiet Flame

“Very hospitable of you, I’m sure.”

“One of my former colleagues was in charge of the guest list. Dr. Heinrich Dorge. Formerly, he was aide to Dr. Schacht. Hitler’s finance minister?”

I nodded.

“Fabie

“And you think she’s hiding with one of them, is that it?”

“I’d say it was a strong possibility.”

“One that is still worth checking,” added the colonel. “Which is why I would like you to keep going with your previous inquiry. There are still a great many names you haven’t yet spoken to.”

“True,” I said. “But look here, it’s my guess that if she hasn’t been found it’s because she’s no longer in Buenos Aires. The chances are she’s somewhere in the country. Tucuman, perhaps. There are lots of old comrades up there, working for Capri on the dam at La Quiroga. Maybe I should go and look for her up there.”

“We already did,” said the colonel. “But why not? Perhaps we missed something. When can you leave?”

“I’ll catch the evening train.”

THERE WERE ONLY two dishes on the menu at the Shorthorn Grill: beef with vegetables, and beef on its own. There was a lot of beef displayed on skewers in the window, and pictures of various beef cuts-cooked and uncooked-hung on the roast-beef-colored walls. A steer’s head surveyed the restaurant and its patrons with glassy-eyed bewilderment. As fast as the beef was cooked and carried to the tables, it was eaten, in companionable silence, as if beef were something much too serious to be interrupted with conversation. It was the kind of place where even your shoe leather felt a little nervous.

A

“What’s the matter? Don’t you like beef?”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have come,” she said quietly. “I’ve just had some bad news. About a friend of mine.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“She was an actress,” said A

“Isabel Pekerman,” I said.

A

“Never you mind. Just tell me what happened.”

“After you telephoned this morning, I got a call from Ha

“ ‘As if’?”

“Isabel was a survivor. She wasn’t the suicidal type. Not at all. Not after everything she’d been through. And certainly not while there was any hope that her two sisters might still be alive. You see-”

“I know. She told me about the sisters. As a matter of fact, she told me last night. She certainly didn’t look like someone who was going home to cut her wrists.”

“You were with her?”

“She telephoned me at my hotel and we arranged to meet in a place called the Club Seguro. She told me everything. Your doubts about her profession were quite correct, I think. But she was a good person. I liked her, anyway. I liked her just about enough to have gone to bed with her. I wish I had. Maybe she’d still be alive.”

“Why didn’t you? Go to bed with her.”

“All sorts of reasons. Yesterday was a hell of a day.”

“I called you twice. But you weren’t there.”

“I was arrested. Briefly.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story. Like Isabel’s. Mostly I didn’t go back home with her on account of you, A

“So you think I’m right, that she might have been murdered?”

“Yes.”

“Why would anyone kill Isabel?”

“Being the kind of actress she was is not without risk,” I said. “But that’s not why she was killed. I imagine it had something to do with me. Maybe her phone was tapped. Maybe my phone is tapped. Maybe she was being followed. Maybe I’m being followed. I don’t know.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“I’ve a very good idea who issued the orders. But it’s best you don’t know any more than I’ve told you. This is quite dangerous enough already.”

“Then we have to go to the police.”

“No, we don’t.” I gri

“Are you suggesting they had something to do with it?”

“I’m not suggesting anything at all. Look, A

“And you think that trying to shield me from something like some naive schoolgirl doesn’t make you sound stupid and romantic?” she said.

“Believe me. It’s safer that I don’t say any more.”

She sighed. “Well, this should be an interesting lunch. With you not saying anything.”

Lon Chaney came back with the wine. He opened it and we went through the pantomime of me tasting it and him pouring it. As absurd as a Japanese tea ceremony. As soon as he had filled A

“Well, what will we talk about now?” she asked.

“Take it easy with that,” I said.

The waiter went away. He could sense trouble coming.

“We could talk about football, I suppose,” she said. “Or politics. Or what’s on at the cinema. But you should start. You’re better at avoiding certain subjects than I am. After all, I imagine you’ve had a lot more practice.” She poured herself some more wine. “I know, let’s talk about the war. Better than that, let’s talk about your war. What were you, anyway? Gestapo? SS? Did you work in a concentration camp? Did you kill any Jews? Did you kill lots of Jews? Are you here because you’re a Nazi war criminal and because there’s a price on your head? Will they hang you if they ever catch up with you?” She lit a cigarette nervously. “How am I doing so far, not talking about what we came here to talk about? By the way, what was it that made you take me on as a client, Bernie? Guilt? Are you trying to make yourself feel better about what you did then by helping me now. Is that it? Yes, I can see how that might work.”