Haggai Harmon - The Chameleon Conspiracy

“Your next meeting will also look like it happened by chance,” said Casey. “We know she frequents a certain cafe in central Vienna. Steve will just happen to bump into her.” He handed us a printed sheet of paper with an attached photo. “Here are Erikka’s details.”

I viewed the photo. Erikka looked her age. She had blonde hair and gray eyes, and seemed a bit overweight. The text described her only briefly. “You’ll have to get more details from her. I don’t want you to know anything about her and slip in a conversation.”

If he’d meant to offend me, it didn’t show, and contrary to my infamous short fuse, I didn’t react. Thirty minutes later, Casey said, “Let’s move on. Go to Cafe Central this afternoon at five p.m.” He handed me a note with an address scribbled. “Sit at a table toward the back. Our observations have shown that Erikka comes to that cafe on Mondays and Thursdays at about five fifteen p.m. after an hour of tutoring a twelve-year-old girl who lives in the neighborhood. Steve will enter the cafe five or ten minutes after our scout signals that Erikka has arrived and sat down. Steve, you walk inside and stop next to her table, as if trying to make sure you’re recognizing your classmate. If she doesn’t recognize you immediately, introduce yourself. If she asks you to join her, say that you’ve actually come to the cafe to meet someone, but you’ll sit with her for five minutes. If she doesn’t ask you to sit down, don’t insist. You can try again when you pass by her table, saying that the person you expected to meet didn’t show up yet. She may ask you to join her then.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Don’t push her. Just wish her well and leave. We’ll find another spotter to introduce Ian. Once you sit at her table, if you do, show genuine interest in her. Ask her what she has been doing through the years, ask about other classmates. If she tells you about her personal problems, show sympathy. Ask her how you can help. Conduct yourself as you’d behave without our intervention. Keep the conversation focused on her, but don’t question her in a manner that makes her feel she’s being interrogated. Just be nice to her.

“As you can see from the fact sheet I gave you, you’re in Vienna to meet Ian for the first time and get a personal impression. The book Ian is writing that your company will publish is a novel about a love story between an Iranian man and an Austrian woman, against the backdrop of the cultural differences between people in Austria and post-Islamic Revolution Iran. When you have spent ten minutes with her, excuse yourself and say you think you’ve noticed the person you’ve come to meet. Go to Ian’s table. Hold a conversation with him, order tea or coffee and cakes.” He smiled. “They’re actually very good.”

“And then?” I asked.

“Then, Steve, you will go over to Erikka’s table and suggest that she join you and meet Ian.”

“If she refuses?” asked Steve.

“The only reason for her to refuse will be that she’s waiting to meet someone else. However, I can tell you that in all likelihood she’ll not refuse. She’s very lonely and bitter. Most of her friends in Vienna sided with her husband during their divorce battle. He’s a local guy, and she’s Swiss. He has the money and the influence. She had nothing to offer him. Trust me, she’ll gladly join your table.”

“And then?” Steve asked.

“Leave the floor to Ian. Thirty minutes into the meeting with Erikka and Ian, I’ll call your mobile phone and ask you to leave the cafe. Make up an excuse and ask for her phone number to call her later. If she hesitates, don’t push. Give up. We have the number. Leave the cafe and return to your hotel. I’ll call you there later.”

Bauer got up. “OK, Steve, if you have no further questions, then we’re done.”

Steve left.

“Ian,” said Bauer. “After Steve leaves the cafe, you stay and talk about yourself. Don’t ask her any personal questions. Bear in mind that the purpose of the meeting is to recruit her to work for you as an assistant on your book project. But don’t suggest it immediately. Mention casually the book and your need to do a lot of research regarding Iran. Ask her about her life experience in Iran. She lived there for fifteen years, which were her formative years. I’m sure she’d be happy to show you how much she knows about Iran for no particular reason-just to make conversation.”

“I shouldn’t offer her the job even if she says she could help me?”

“Right. Even if she does suggest helping you, smile and say that it sounds like an interesting idea to consider, and thank her for that. Don’t commit. Get her phone number and promise to call. Leave twenty minutes later. You cannot appear to be too interested in her-just a bit, out of curiosity.”

“No personal interest?”

“You mean becoming a honey trap and charming her pants off? Maybe later; definitely not now. What ever the circumstances may be, she cannot-and I repeat, cannot-be recruited to work for you during your first meeting. Any questions?”

I shook my head. I thought of her picture. She was definitely not my idea of someone to spend a steamy Sunday afternoon with.

“OK. Then I’ll see you this afternoon at the cafe.”

“See me?”

“Well, metaphorically. I’ll be listening in. Steve will carry a microphone.”

At the time set, I entered the cafe.

“Guten Tag,” said the Hauptkellner, or headwaiter, who was wearing a tuxedo that badly needed dry cleaning.

“Table for one?”

“For two, please. I’m expecting someone”-so Steve would have a chair when he arrived. He nodded, took a menu, and I followed him to the back of the cafe. A strong aroma of coffee, foamed milk, and cigarette smoke filled the air.

I sat at a small table covered with a white tablecloth underneath a thick glass top. I looked around. Most of the guests were older men dressed in jackets and ties, or ladies of advanced age dressed to go out. I scoured the place but couldn’t identify Erikka. I glanced at my watch; it was still five minutes short of her usual time. I went to the corner and took the day’s newspaper, which was spread over a wooden frame-a European trick to prevent the guests from taking the newspaper when leaving. The frame made reading a bit clumsy. It felt like holding a placard in a picket line. I punched a small hole in the newspaper and pretended to be busy reading, but in fact I was peeping through the hole.

Ten minutes later Erikka entered the cafe and sat four tables away from me. She seemed to be a regular, because the waiter greeted her and they seemed to have a friendly conversation for a minute or two. Erikka was dressed in a brown skirt and a light-brown tweed jacket. Her wide, pale face looked like her picture, but her hair had been dyed since the photo was taken. She was medium height and about fifteen pounds overweight-nothing, compared to me. For me, fifteen pounds too heavy would be downright anorexic.

A few minutes later Steve walked in. He stopped next to her table, and from what I could gather they had a jovial conversation. I glanced over the framed newspaper and saw Steve sitting at her table.

OK, step one has been accomplished.

I put down the framed newspaper to allow Steve to locate me. As planned, a few minutes later Steve came over to my table. I got up and shook his hand in a formal manner, as if we were meeting for the first time. Steve sat down. We ordered coffee for him and tea for me. I didn’t hesitate long before acquiescing to the waiter’s suggestion to order Apfelstrudel, paper-thin dough filled with cooked apples. The portion was too big, and covered with rich, icy whipped cream.

“How was it?” I asked in a low voice.

“Not a problem,” said Steve. “She was friendlier than I expected. I told her about our meeting and promised to talk to her again when I’m done talking business with you.”