Walking up the rough cobblestone street in the old part of the city past Cathédrale St-Pierre, where Calvin preached reform, Hans paused outside a small floral shop and picked out a single red rose from the dozens in the basket on the sidewalk. Entering the shop, he handed the rose to the shopkeeper and watched as it was gently wrapped in green paper accompanied by a sprig of white baby’s breath. Handing the floral package back to the elderly man in front of him, the wizened shopkeeper whispered, “I hope you and the lady have a pleasant evening, monsieur.” He winked.
“You can be sure I’ll enjoy this evening,” Hans answered as he left the shop.
In the next block he stood in front of a building with a large, black and yellow wrought-iron sign hanging over the building’s entrance announcing that this was Christie’s, 1766. Hans paused for a moment and then sighed deeply. He turned the heavy brass door knob and entered. Holding the rose behind his back, he approached the middle-aged woman working in the corner. She looked up at the opening of the door.
“Klaus, how nice to see you again!”
“And you as well, kind Emily.” Hans offered her the rose.
Emily held the rose and asked quietly, blushing, “Oh, Klaus, its exquisite, but why?”
“It is just a small thank you for your kindness to a stranger in your city. If you would please permit me to buy you a drink and dinner, my time in Geneva would be complete.”
“I couldn’t, really. I don’t even know you.”
“True, lovely lady, but I assure you I’m quite harmless, and I’ve been captivated by your charm and helpfulness.”
“Well,” Emily said hesitantly, glancing at the clock and seeing it was after five, “Maybe just a glass of wine. Let me tell my boss, Dr. Franz, I’m leaving for the day. I’ll get my sweater.”
Hans sighed after she left. This might be a long, long night.
It was almost ten o’clock when Hans and Emily left the restaurant hand in hand and started to walk in the night stillness.
“That was very nice, Klaus. Thank you for a lovely evening.” After a few minutes she continued hesitantly, “Would you care to come up to my apartment for a brandy?”
Not wanting to seem too eager, Hans responded, “I would like that very much.”
Emily returned from her small kitchen area with two large snifters. Hans reached out for both of them and put the drinks down on the table near where he was standing. He reached out and gently pulled Emily toward him and enfolded her in his arms. He kissed her lightly and noticing the initial tension in her body soon relaxed. Slowly she returned his kisses soon matching each thrust of his tongue with one of her own. He half-carried her over to the sofa, and they fell onto it, feverishly kissing. Hans was almost lying on top of Emily. He rose up on his elbow and slowly began unbuttoning her sweater, slipping his hand inside and cupping one of her breasts. Emily let out a small gasp.
“Let’s go into your bedroom,” he whispered.
Scrambling to her feet, Emily took his hand and led him across the living room through the door opposite the kitchenette. Hans smiled as she turned on a small light at the head of the bed. Its opalescence glow showed a bed covered with small stuffed animals.
As she quickly undressed, he felt nothing but revulsion for her. Her bulging stomach and flabby breasts almost made him sick. He had to force himself to make love to her. He wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. He thought her hunger would never be satisfied.
After the ordeal, exhausted, he rolled over beside her in the bed. She had a smile on her face. How stupid you can be, he thought.
It was three-twenty in the morning when Hans awoke. He was surprised he’d fallen asleep, as he hated sleeping in someone else’s bed.
She was lying with her arm across his chest. He slowly removed it and gently rolled off the bed so as not to wake her. As he stood beside the bed, he looked down at Emily sleeping half-covered by the tangled sheets. He kicked a stuffed animal under the bed and went into the bathroom.
Hans scrubbed his face clean of the night’s passion and dressed quickly. If she wakes, I’ll have to kill her, he thought. Quietly he walked across the room and let himself out of the apartment. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the dark and fresh night air.
Later in the week Hans chose this bar carefully. He thought it was ironic that it was touted as One Night of Passion in the gaudy, red, neon letters above the door. He entered the large, dark room that smelled like every other cheap bar in the world. Smoke swirled in eddies below the yellowing fluorescent lights. From somewhere in the grim interior, he heard a brief outburst of laughter, and the click of pool balls, the only acknowledgment there was another person here. Dressed in a black turtleneck sweater, pants and watch cap, he could have been be mistaken for any worker escaping from a dull evening at home.
His well-developed sense of self-preservation had served him well over the years. His actions were carefully rehearsed; his disguises impeccable. His goal: never to be remembered anywhere he went.
Choosing a booth along the rear wall between the restrooms and a door leading, he found out, through a dirty kitchen into a back alley, he sat with his back against the wall. He always tried to sit where he had at least two escape routes or he just found another establishment.
As he sat, pain stabbed through his being as he thought about that night, three years ago when he first returned from Argentina. He had been half drunk celebrating his return, with friends from the Baader-Meinhof, and had wandered into that out-of-the-way bar in Berlin to finish off the night. They had only been there a short time when he noticed the other patrons moving away from them one by one. Paranoia flared; bells went off. He slipped into the men’s room quietly. While he was prying open the window to the alley, staccato blasts of Uzi fire ripped through the night. He dove head first out the window, landing in a pile of garbage and ran off, escaping into the protection of the anonymous night.
He learned a few hours later that all seven of his companions had been murdered by the police in that raid. But for his sense of danger, his paranoia, he would be resting beside his friends in a Berlin cemetery this very minute. No more companions ever again. They just get killed, or worse. He was sure it was a friend that had betrayed them that night. With a maniacal vengeance he pursued all who might have been involved. But he couldn’t isolate the exact origin of that betrayal even with his special brand of torture. He was never certain if he had found the person responsible. No more friends. Friends only cause pain.
The flash-back faded as he saw Emily walk into the bar and look around. He remained seated and, after a few moments, she finally spotted him, quickly walked back and sat opposite.
“Hello Klaus.”
“Emily, my cherub, how are you tonight? You look luscious enough to eat. Maybe I will later.” Emily blushed, burying her head in one of the dirty menus. “Please don’t say things like that in public, Klaus. I have a hard time concentrating.” “Well, my hefty tart, that is just what you’re supposed to concentrate on: the rocking and rolling of your bed tonight.” Hans leered at her and asked, “Wine? Or a beer? No, how about an aperitif? That should cool you down for a bit. But not for too long! Waiter!”
“Klaus, why are we meeting in this dirty bar? I don’t like this place and I almost didn’t come in when the cab driver stopped here. This doesn’t seem like a place you’d like.”
“I know Emily. I wouldn’t normally come to a place like this, but it is owned by an old friend of mine and I wanted to see him and give him a little trade. We won’t stay long, and believe me, you’re perfectly safe here with me.”
After their orders were taken, Hans, his shoeless foot rubbing the inside of her leg under the table, leaned over and whispered “What have you found to share with Pa-Pa tonight? Did you find out anything about auctioning that special emerald I spoke to you about?” My emerald he meant, but did not say it.
Emily looked around nervously, and said quietly, “I’m not sure yet, Klaus”
“What do you mean, I’m not sure yet?”
“Well, I did happen to overhear a telephone conversation between Mr. Brunstein, from the bank and Dr. Franz. Mr. Brunstein said that they would not be able to release that emerald for an auction until the heirs of the owners had been contacted. I had to quickly hang up the phone then because someone came into the office. That’s all I got to hear.”
“That’s really all you know then.”
Hans was forcing Emily’s leg against the edge of the table leg, hoping a little pain might help her remember a few more details.
“Honestly Klaus, that’s all I know right now. Ouch, Klaus you’re hurting my leg.”
The waiter reappeared with their drinks and left. Hans was quiet staring into space.
“What’s wrong, Klaus? I’ll let you know when the auction is scheduled for that stone, and besides I’ll check our coming auctions to see if there are any other jewels you might be interested in. Why is this one so important to you?”
“You wouldn’t understand. I’ve wanted this one for such a long time now.”
Emily hadn’t touched her wine yet and touched Hans hand and asked, “Can’t we leave this awful place and go to somewhere a little nicer?”
Angrily, Hans glanced at his Rolex and said, “No, if you’re so disgusted with my friend’s establishment, why don’t I get you a cab and just send you home?”