Will Chancellor - A Brave Man Seven Storeys Tall

— What is it?

— Memories on a transparency. Memories of the day we met.

She handed it to Burr. He handed it back.

— It’s safer with you.

Someone walked upstairs with a copy of the International Herald Tribune under her arm. Burr strained to see, but didn’t take off his sunglasses.

— Is that the reason for the sunglasses? Don’t get me wrong, they suit you. Very James Coburn. But I think you’re fine. Everyone here is a tourist.

— I suppose I’m fortunate that your friend caught the broadcast.

— She’s not a friend. And she saw the clip online. It made the rounds over e-mail. There’s a gif of you doubling over when the interviewer says that the State Department is after you.

Burr wasn’t sure what a gif was. It sounded like pornography.

— Good lord.

Burr took off his sunglasses.

— So you know everything about Athens?

— I know you spoke with Baudrillard. What’s he like?

— Before we get into that, I’m going to have to see about Iceland. Will you accompany me outside? And can I borrow your phone?

Stevie led the way out the front doors, down the steps, and around the corner.

They sat on the granite ledge in the warm sun. Burr wrote down the details for the first flight to Reykjavik. He chose to keep his name off the manifest as long as possible. They said the ticket counter would be open until 19:00. His flight to Reykjavik was 19:30. There was a good chance it would be the last flight he ever took.

— Have time for lunch? I haven’t eaten in days.

— I know a place.

Stevie led them to a restaurant in Kreuzberg.

Two avenues to the Spree cut a wedge out of northeast Kreuzberg. A thick iron door with a porthole marked the apex of the triangular island. First Stevie, then Burr, passed through the dark entry. Burr crept down the three steps with the breathless attention to balance of someone entering the prow of a rowboat.

They took a seat at the first table. Burr traced its hammered tin corners. Edison bulbs and oil lamps lit the room. A triangular copper bar, a teardrop island within the island block, dominated the ground floor. The café was very dark, which was good. Burr had the impression of a dining car, derailed in the 1920s, left in a field to patinate for a decade, then crammed into this wedge just in time to shelter people during the air raids.

— Very bohemian. Do artists come here?

— Some.

— Does Kurt Wagener come here?

— This part of Kreuzberg is mostly Turkish. Even before Basel, there were whispers around the neighborhood that Kurt had fabricated his assault and injury. You won’t see Kurt here. He wouldn’t last ten minutes.

— How long did he pretend to be in a wheelchair?

— Over a year. But now all these pictures are popping up online of Kurt running on beaches in the Antilles with Brigitte. So apparently there were a few months where he took a vacation from his disability.

— That’s awful. And now he really is confined to a wheelchair? Horrible.

Stevie gestured to the waiter that they needed more time. She took Burr’s hand.

— Is it? Yes. I guess. I mean it’s awful.

— It’s awful.

— If Owen came back here, he might face charges of aggravated assault. I know that Altberg is close to a prosecutor. And I imagine that the ordinary court wants to overlook the entire Basel show. There’s a kidnapping charge awaiting both Altberg and Kurt if they push for aggravated assault, so I’m thinking the charges may be dropped.

— You’ve looked into this. Do you study law?

— No. I don’t actually know what I’m talking about. I’m a semester away from a degree in philosophy.

— Ooph . Philosophy? Then you really don’t know what you’re talking about.

— I want to get a doctorate in phenomenology.

— Know that I’m unofficially retired as an academic, so I can admit that I never had the foggiest idea what that word meant. I mean, I know the names and the terms, but—

— Already qualifying your remark. You’ll be back on a university campus before spring term.

— I made my choice in Athens.

— Still. It’s a good life you’re giving up.

— You didn’t have to miss lectures to meet me, did you?

— No. I’m working gigs again.

They ordered lunch and started a bottle of white wine. Burr surprised them both by finishing his glass before Stevie took a sip from hers.

— I don’t know the full story, but from what I’ve read, the machinations worked.

He felt like a fool as soon as he said it.

— What worked?

— Kurt’s plan. The fake show to get Owen to confront him, the pictures of the actual conflict.

— He’s in a wheelchair. I am positive he never took the show that seriously. Maybe he was trying to do a Chris Burden thing. But he definitely didn’t plan on any injury being permanent.

— Of course.

— It certainly didn’t work for Hal, the photographer. Kurt used one of the pictures from the confrontation, deleted the rest, sold it for a million dollars, and cut out Hal completely. The bigger insult was that Kurt called all of those Abu Ghraib pictures kitsch and said he never intended them to be art, just bait to get Owen to Basel.

— Hal planned to make money from them?

— Lots. Kurt had promised him that he would get fifty percent of the sales. Then Kurt gives away the high-res files on the internet and says it’s not art.

— Was he trying to be honorable?

— I keep forgetting you’ve never met Kurt. He just wanted to drive up the price for his sculpture of fighting Owen — which some Hollywood prop makers designed based on the video and photos from Basel.

— I didn’t read about it.

— It’s called The Settlement . The word is, it sold to an American collector for $12 million. Think of a hastily thrown together Maurizio Cattelan.

— To be sure.

— A few weeks ago Hal was talking to the same host on Zeitgeist about how Kurt was always planning to sell the torture photos, which is probably true, in the event that Owen didn’t turn up in Basel and confront him.

— So he was going to make millions from torturing Owen either way. That’s great. Do you want my advice? Get as far away from Berlin as you can, and find a way to finish your degree.

— Okay. I’ll just transfer to Oxford next semester. No problem.

— How’s your academic standing?

She tilted her head and smiled. Her expressions were so curious. Whenever she said anything provocative, she lifted her eyebrows and jutted out her lower lip until her face resembled a wooden mask.

She rose to go to the ladies’. Burr asked for her phone so that he could confirm that his flight was on schedule.

Burr did the math: it was 5:00 p.m. in Berlin, 8:00 a.m. in California. There was a decent chance Gaskin was up. But there was little chance he was in the office, and that was the only number Burr knew by heart. He would have to hope Clarissa was there. She picked up on the second ring.

— Clarissa! Thank heavens! I don’t expect Gerry is in, but I need to speak with him at once. This is Joe. Burr. Joe Burr. I expect Gerry is very cross with me.

— He called in twice yesterday asking for an update, Professor Burr, for the first time in I can’t remember when. He’s out golfing this morning, but he said to patch you through whenever you called. Let me transfer you.

He’d never felt so important to be on hold. Gerry picked up at once.

— Of course you call the moment our group is about to tee off.

— I’m so sorry.

Burr was sweating.

— Spyglass is tough enough without this horseshit. First hole: six-hundred-yard par five. Straight into the teeth of the wind.