had she been crying? “I’m sorry. It’s just… This morning my friends were… I
must
see Mr. Hel!”
“I know, dear. I know. Now finish your tea. There is something in it to make you rest. Then I will show you up to your room, where you can bathe and sleep. And you will be fresh and beautiful when you meet Nicholai. Just leave your rucksack here. One of the girls will see to it.”
“I should explain—”
But Hana raised her hand. “You explain things to Nicholai when he comes. And he will tell me what he wants me to know.”
Hannah was still sniffling and feeling like a child as she followed Hana up the wide marble staircase that dominated the entrance hall. But she could feel a delicious peace spreading within her. Whatever was in the tea was softening the crust of her memories and floating them off to a distance. “You’re being very kind to me, Mrs. Hel,” she said sincerely.
Hana laughed softly. “Do call me Hana. After all, I am not Nicholai’s wife. I am his concubine.”
Washington
The elevator door opened silently, and Diamond preceded Miss Swivven into the white workspace of the Sixteenth Floor.
“…and I’ll want them available within ten minutes after call: Starr, the Deputy, and that Arab. Do you have that?”
“Yes, sir.” Miss Swivven went immediately to her cubicle to make the necessary arrangements, while the First Assistant rose from his console.
“I have the scan of Asa Stern’s first-generation contacts, sir. It’s coming in now.” He felt a justifiable pride. There were not ten men alive who had the skill to pull a list based upon amorphous emotional relationships out of Fat Boy.
“Give me a desk RP on it,” Diamond ordered as he sat in his swivel chair at the head of the conference table.
“Coming up. Oops! Just a second, sir. The list is one-hundred-eighty percent inverted. It will only take a moment to flip it.”
It was typical of the computer’s systemic inability to distinguish between love and hate, affection and blackmail, friendship and parasitism, that any list organized in terms of such emotional rubrics stood a 50/50 chance of coming in inverted. The First Assistant had foreseen this danger and had seeded the raw list with the names of Maurice Herzog and Heinrich Himmler (both H’s). When the printout showed Himmler to be greatly admired by Asa Stern, and Herzog to be detested, the First Assistant dared the assumption that Fat Boy had done a 180.
“It’s not just a naked list, is it?” Diamond asked.
“No, sir. I’ve requested pinhole data. Just the most salient facts attached to each name, so we can make useful identification.”
“You’re a goddamned genius, Llewellyn.”
The First Assistant nodded in absentminded agreement as he watched the list crawl up his screen in sans-serif IBM lettering.
STERN, DAVID
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS SON… WHITE CARD…
STUDENT, AMATEUR ATHLETE… KILLED, 1972 sub MUNICH OLYMPICS…
* * *
STERN, JUDITH
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS WIFE… PINK CARD…
SCHOLAR. RESEARCHER…
DEAD, 1956 sub NATURAL CAUSES…
* * *
ROTHMANN, MOISHE
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS FRIEND… WHITE CARD…
PHILOSOPHER, POET… DEAD, 1958 sub NATURAL CAUSES…
* * *
KAUFMANN, S. I.
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS FRIEND… RED CARD…
POLITICAL ACTIVIST… RETIRED…
* * *
HEL, NICHOLAI ALEXANDROVITCH
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS FRIEND…
“Stop!” Diamond ordered. “Freeze that!” The First Assistant scanned the next fragments of information. “Oh, my goodness!”
Diamond leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. When CIA screws up, they certainly do it in style! “Nicholai Hel,” Diamond pronounced, his voice a monotone.
“Sir?” the First Assistant said softly, recalling the ancient practice of executing the messenger who brings bad news. “This Nicholai Hel is identified with a
mauve
card.”
“I know… I know.”
“Ah… I suppose you’ll want a complete pull and printout on Hel, Nicholai
must
see Mr. Hel!”
“I know, dear. I know. Now finish your tea. There is something in it to make you rest. Then I will show you up to your room, where you can bathe and sleep. And you will be fresh and beautiful when you meet Nicholai. Just leave your rucksack here. One of the girls will see to it.”
“I should explain—”
But Hana raised her hand. “You explain things to Nicholai when he comes. And he will tell me what he wants me to know.”
Hannah was still sniffling and feeling like a child as she followed Hana up the wide marble staircase that dominated the entrance hall. But she could feel a delicious peace spreading within her. Whatever was in the tea was softening the crust of her memories and floating them off to a distance. “You’re being very kind to me, Mrs. Hel,” she said sincerely.
Hana laughed softly. “Do call me Hana. After all, I am not Nicholai’s wife. I am his concubine.”
Washington
The elevator door opened silently, and Diamond preceded Miss Swivven into the white workspace of the Sixteenth Floor.
“…and I’ll want them available within ten minutes after call: Starr, the Deputy, and that Arab. Do you have that?”
“Yes, sir.” Miss Swivven went immediately to her cubicle to make the necessary arrangements, while the First Assistant rose from his console.
“I have the scan of Asa Stern’s first-generation contacts, sir. It’s coming in now.” He felt a justifiable pride. There were not ten men alive who had the skill to pull a list based upon amorphous emotional relationships out of Fat Boy.
“Give me a desk RP on it,” Diamond ordered as he sat in his swivel chair at the head of the conference table.
“Coming up. Oops! Just a second, sir. The list is one-hundred-eighty percent inverted. It will only take a moment to flip it.”
It was typical of the computer’s systemic inability to distinguish between love and hate, affection and blackmail, friendship and parasitism, that any list organized in terms of such emotional rubrics stood a 50/50 chance of coming in inverted. The First Assistant had foreseen this danger and had seeded the raw list with the names of Maurice Herzog and Heinrich Himmler (both H’s). When the printout showed Himmler to be greatly admired by Asa Stern, and Herzog to be detested, the First Assistant dared the assumption that Fat Boy had done a 180.
“It’s not just a naked list, is it?” Diamond asked.
“No, sir. I’ve requested pinhole data. Just the most salient facts attached to each name, so we can make useful identification.”
“You’re a goddamned genius, Llewellyn.”
The First Assistant nodded in absentminded agreement as he watched the list crawl up his screen in sans-serif IBM lettering.
STERN, DAVID
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS SON… WHITE CARD…
STUDENT, AMATEUR ATHLETE… KILLED, 1972 sub MUNICH OLYMPICS…
* * *
STERN, JUDITH
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS WIFE… PINK CARD…
SCHOLAR. RESEARCHER…
DEAD, 1956 sub NATURAL CAUSES…
* * *
ROTHMANN, MOISHE
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS FRIEND… WHITE CARD…
PHILOSOPHER, POET… DEAD, 1958 sub NATURAL CAUSES…
* * *
KAUFMANN, S. I.
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS FRIEND… RED CARD…
POLITICAL ACTIVIST… RETIRED…
* * *
HEL, NICHOLAI ALEXANDROVITCH
RELATIONSHIP EQUALS FRIEND…
“Stop!” Diamond ordered. “Freeze that!” The First Assistant scanned the next fragments of information. “Oh, my goodness!”
Diamond leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. When CIA screws up, they certainly do it in style! “Nicholai Hel,” Diamond pronounced, his voice a monotone.
“Sir?” the First Assistant said softly, recalling the ancient practice of executing the messenger who brings bad news. “This Nicholai Hel is identified with a
mauve
card.”
“I know… I know.”
“Ah… I suppose you’ll want a complete pull and printout on Hel, Nicholai
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