Nothing Is Forgotten_A Novel by Peter Golden

Author:Peter Golden [Golden, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781501146824
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2018-04-10T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

In the suite, a stocky gray-haired chambermaid was changing the sheets, so I used the phone next to the couch in the sitting room and placed a call to Four Freedoms in Munich. Taft wasn’t there. He was at the news bureau in Paris. I wrote down the number, then gave it to the operator and waited for her to connect me. Every day I left a tip for the maids on the desk, and the chambermaid came out of the bedroom and picked up the ten-franc note. Yuli, sitting at the other end of the couch reading A Moveable Feast, spoke to her in a language that sounded like Ukrainian, and with a slight bow, the chambermaid answered her and departed.

Taft came on the line, and he was angrier than I’d ever heard him. “You were supposed to stay put until we caught the bastards.”

“How’s that’s coming?”

“No change.”

“Then it doesn’t matter where I am.”

Taft snapped, “Stow the whimsy. This is more complicated than you know.”

“Who’s Joost Ter Horst?”

Taft didn’t answer.

“Joost Ter Horst. Who is he?”

Taft said, “Not on the phone.”

“Where?”

“Can you get to Paris?”

“Have you moved it?”

“Enough jokes, Michael. Lunch tomorrow. One o’clock. Come alone. Go to the desk at the Hôtel Régina and ask for my room. And goddamn it—watch yourself till then.”

When he had hung up, Yuli said, “I could hear him. Does Taft always shout at you?”

“Only when he’s being paranoid.”

“Is that a lot?”

“He’s CIA. That’s the worst-kept secret in Munich. Paranoia is in his job description.”

After giving Yuli the CliffsNotes version of my conversation with Taft, I dialed the hotel operator and asked her to connect me to Air France. I booked two seats on a nine A.M. flight to Orly and said I’d pick up the tickets at the airport counter. I’d told Eddie that I had things under control, and despite Taft’s spy nonsense, for the first time since flying to Germany, I believed it.

Yuli slid down the couch to sit beside me, and I asked her if there were any sights she wanted to see when we returned to Paris.

She said, “We’ll play by ears.”

I chuckled.

“I have spoken wrong?”

“Play it by ear.”

Yuli pressed her palms against my chest until I was on my back, and she leaned across me, her mouth circling my ear.

“Misha, is this playing by ear?”

“It’ll do.”

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