His voice came on the line. “Jack Stone.”
“It’s Dana Evans.”
“Hello, Miss Evans. What can I do for you?”
“I’m trying to find something out about a man named Zander in Düsseldorf.”
“Dieter Zander?”
“Yes. You know him?”
“We know who he is.”
Dana registered the we. “Can you tell me anything about him?”
“Is this in connection with Taylor Winthrop?”
“Yes.”
“Taylor Winthrop and Dieter Zander were partners in a business deal. Zander was sent to prison for manipulating some stock, and while he was in prison, his house burned down, killing his wife and three children. He blames Taylor Winthrop for what happened.”
And Taylor Winthrop and his wife had died in a fire. Dana listened in shock. “Is Zander still in prison?”
“No. I believe he got out last year. Anything else?”
“No. Thank you very, very much.”
“This is just between us.”
“I understand.”
The line went dead.
Now there are three possibilities, Dana thought.
Dieter Zander in Düsseldorf.
Vincent Mancino in Rome.
Marcel Falcon in Brussels.
I’ll go to Düsseldorf first.
Olivia said, “Mrs. Hudson is on line three.”
“Thank you.” Dana picked up the phone. “Pamela?”
“Hello, Dana. I know this is sudden, but a good friend has just come to town and Roger and I are giving him a little party next Wednesday. I know Jeff is still out of town, but we would love to have you come. Are you free?”
“I’m afraid I’m not. I’m leaving for Düsseldorf tonight.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“And, Pamela—”
“Yes?”
“Jeff may be gone for a while.”
There was a silence. “I hope everything is all right.”
“Yes. I’m sure it will be.” It has to be.
XVI
THAT EVENING AT DULLES airport, Dana boarded a Lufthansa jet to Düsseldorf. She had telephoned Steffan Mueller, who worked at Kabel Network to tell him she was on her way. Dana’s mind was filled with what Matt Baker had told her. If Dieter Zander blamed Taylor Winthrop for—
“Guten Abend. Ich heisse Hermann Friedrich. Ist es das ersten mal das sie Deutschland besuchen?”
Dana turned to look at her seat partner. He was in his fifties, trim, with an eye patch and a full mustache.
“Good evening,” Dana said.
“Ah, you are American?”
“Yes.”
“Many Americans come to Düsseldorf. It is a beautiful city.”
“So I’ve heard.” And his family had died in a fire.
“This is your first visit?”
“Yes.” Could it have been a coincidence?
“It is beautiful, beautiful. Düsseldorf is divided by the Rhine River, you know, into two parts. The older part is on the right bank—”
Steffan Mueller can tell me more about Dieter Zander.
“—and the modern part is on the left bank. Five bridges connect the two sides.” Hermann Friedrich moved a little closer to Dana. “You are visiting friends, perhaps, in Düsseldorf?”
It’s beginning to fit together.
Friedrich leaned a little closer. “If you are alone, I know a—”
“What? Oh. No, I’m meeting my husband there.”
Hermann Friedrich’s smile faded. “Gut. Er ist ein glücklicher Mann.”
There was a line of taxis out in front of the Düsseldorf International Airport. Dana took one to the Breidenbacher Hof in the center of town. It was an elegant old hotel with an ornate lobby.
The clerk behind the desk said, “We were expecting you, Miss Evans. Welcome to Düsseldorf.”
“Thank you.” Dana signed the register.
The clerk picked up the telephone and spoke into it. “Der Raum sollte betriebsbereit sein. Hast.” He replaced the receiver and turned to Dana. “I’m so sorry, Fräulein, your room is not quite ready. Please have a bite to eat as our guest, and I will call you as soon as the maid is through cleaning it.”
Dana nodded. “Very well.”
“Let me show you to the dining salon.”
Upstairs in Dana’s room, two electronics experts were putting a camera in a wall clock.
Thirty minutes later Dana was in her room, unpacking. Her first telephone call was to Kabel Network.
“I’ve arrived, Steffan,” Dana said.
“Dana! I could not believe you were really coming. What are you doing for dinner?”
“I hope I’m having it with you.”
“You are. We’re going to Im Schiffchen. Eight o’clock?”