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“Of course he was. He was being inordinately rude.”
“Hmm.” She smiled. She certainly was doing a great deal of that today. “Maybe youdolike me a little, after all.”
He could feel his face heat. His fluency in English was very high, but it took him a moment to compute that she was teasing him. Honestly, the way Americans mixed business and pleasure was very confusing. “Whether I like you or not is an entirely different matter from your competency. I needn’t like you to see that you’re more than capable of carrying out your mission here.”
“Well, thank you. I think.”
“So your plan was to visit Daniel Hauser unannounced?”
“Yes. Not that I really expect him to tell me anything—and maybe there isn’t anything to tell. Maybe what he’s claiming—that he plans to retire early and spend more time in the Riviera—is true. But if thereisanything more there, I thought an ambush was likely to be more effective than a scheduled meeting.”
Matteo wrinkled his nose as he echoed Mr. Hauser’s plans. “Retire to the Riviera.”
“You make it sound like he’s signing up for exile to Siberia.”
“What is he? All of forty?”
“Thirty-nine.”
“How old are you?” He probably shouldn’t have asked. For some reason, Americans were more worked up about aging than Europeans.
She answered, though: “Thirty-five. Why? And how old areyou?”
“Thirty. Would you retire in four years if you could?”
“No. I might not do everything exactly the same as I am now, but no, I would not.”
That accorded with his image of her, and he agreed wholeheartedly. “Neither would I.”
“All right, but your point is?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps that my regard for Daniel Hauser isn’t a great deal higher than for Noar Graf.” He started the car. “So let’s pay the former a visit.”
“You don’t think we should go directly back to Witten on account of the snow?”
“It’s on the way, and really, how long does an ambush take?”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up at the Hauser mansion. “With any luck,” Matteo said, “the snow will have muffled our arrival.”
“Well, it’s not as if we’re going to sneak in James Bond–style.”
Right. He restarted the car. “I think I’ll keep the engine on while you’re inside so the car doesn’t get too cold. That way we’ll be able to make a fast getaway, James Bond–style, if we need to.”
She did not react, and he was more disappointed than he should be. It seemed unfair that American management consultants were allowed to make jokes in the line of duty but their clients weren’t.
Oh, no, she was merely having a delayed reaction. Surprise flickered across her face, and it was replaced by delight. Laughter. It was very gratifying. Perhaps Matteo’s regular demeanorwasa little too android-like.
She sobered as she leaned over and took in the house. “Actually, would you come in with me?”
He was startled. And flattered. “Of course.”
“Do you think whoever opens the door will speak English?” she asked as they trudged up the snowy steps to the front door.
“Most likely.”
A woman Matteo didn’t know answered their knock, opening the door just enough to see out. Cara said—in German, which Matteo had noticed she was increasingly showing mastery of—“Good afternoon. My name is Cara Delaney.” She switched to English. “I’m so sorry to descend upon you unannounced, but I need to see Mr. Hauser. It’s about some urgent Morneau business.”
Matteo didn’t know this woman, but she seemed to know them—or to know Ms. Delaney, anyway. Matteo had seen recognition flicker across her features when Ms. Delaney said her name.
