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“Ye

ah. Plenty of room. I got a suite.”

“Look, I can read these files anywhere. And I need to run down a lead there.”

“Great!”

“I can be there by—what?—after noon or so.”

“Room six-oh-one.”

“Six-oh-one. Got it.”

[ TWO ]

Robert Treat Hotel

Newark, New Jersey

0815 7 March 1943

Richard Koch was sitting among a small crowd in the lobby. He was reading the Trenton Times and smoking a cigarette when he noticed one of the two young hookers from the night before come out of one of the elevators and start across the lobby.

He smiled at the blonde as she caught a glimpse of him, but she would not make eye contact.

Still wearing the same clothes from last night, mein Liebchen? Business must be good.

He was admiring the sway of her hips as she went out the main doors when another elevator opened and Kurt Bayer got off.

Koch glared at him and thought, It’s about time you showed up, you bastard.

He folded the newspaper, got to his feet, and started walking toward the main doors. He nodded for Bayer to follow.

Outside, Koch waited for Bayer to catch up.

“Good morning,” Bayer said pleasantly.

“I got your note in the room,” Koch snapped. “Where the hell have you been?”

Bayer looked at him before replying.

“I can ask the same: Where the hell have you been?”

“Getting rid of the car. Like I told you.”

“You also told me that that was going to take only a half hour to do.”

Koch started walking. “Come. There’s a coffee shop around the corner.”

As they walked, Koch added, “I had to take extra care with the car.”

“Why?”

“Because of this.”

He swung the newspaper, hitting him in the chest.

Bayer looked at him crossly, then took the paper, unfolded it, and scanned the headlines.