Holy Fire - Bruce Sterling [39]
It was loud inside. “You want to eat something?” Ulrich shouted.
Maya looked at a passing platter. Chunks of animal flesh swimming in brown juices, shredded kraut, potato dumplings. “I’m not hungry!”
“You want to drink some beer?”
“Ick!”
“What do you want, then?”
“I dunno. Just to watch everybody act weird, I guess. Is there some quiet place here where we can sit down and talk?”
Ulrich’s long brows knotted, in impatience with her, she thought, and then he methodically scanned the crowd. “Do something for me, all right? You see that old tourist lady there with the notebook?”
“Yes?”
“Go ask her if she has a tourist map. Talk to her for one minute, sixty seconds, nothing more. Ask her … ask if she can tell you where is the Chinese Tower. Then come outside the Hofbrauhaus and meet with me again. In the street.”
“Why?” She looked searchingly into his face. “You want me to do something bad.”
“A little bad maybe. But very useful for us. Go and talk to her. There’s no harm in talking.”
Maya went to stand by the old woman. The old woman was methodically and neatly eating noodles with a fork and a spoon. She was drinking a bottle of something called Fruchtlimo and was very nicely dressed. “Excuse me, ma’am, do you speak English?”
“Yes, I do, young lady.”
“Do you have a map of Munchen? In English? I’m looking for a certain place.”
“Of course I do. Glad to help.” The woman opened her notebook and deftly shuffled screens. “What do they call this place you want to go?”
“The Chinese Tower.”
“Oh, yes. I know that place. Here we go.… ” She pointed. “It’s located in the English Gardens. A park designed by Count von Rumford in the 1790s. The Count von Rumford was Benjamin Thompson, an American emigré.” She looked up brightly. “Isn’t it funny to think of a town this ancient being redesigned by one of our fellow Americans!”
“Almost as funny as Indianapolis being redesigned by an Indonesian.”
“Well,” said the woman, frowning, “that all happened long before you were born. But I happen to be from Indiana, and I was there when the Indonesians bought the city, and believe me, when that happened we didn’t think it was very funny.”
“Thanks a lot for your help, ma’am.”
“Would you like me to print you a map? I have a scroller in my purse.”
“That’s okay. I have to meet someone, I have to go now.”
“But it’s quite a long way to the tower, you might get lost. Let me just …” She paused, surprised. “My purse is gone.”
“You lost your purse?”
“No, I didn’t lose it. It was right here, right below the bench.” She glanced around, then up at Maya. She lowered her voice. “I’m afraid someone’s taken my purse. Stolen it. Oh, dear. This is very sad.”
“I’m sorry,” Maya said, inadequately.
“Now I’m afraid I’ll have to talk with the authorities.” The old woman sighed. “This is very distressing. They’ll be so embarrassed, poor things.… It’s dreadful when things like this happen to guests.”
“It’s very nice of you to think of their feelings.”
“Well, of course it’s not my loss of a few possessions, it’s the violation of civility that hurts.”
“I know that,” Maya said, “and I’m truly sorry. I wish you could take my purse instead.” She put her own bag on the table. “There’s not much in here, but I wish you could have it.”
The old woman looked at her for the first time, directly, eye to eye. Something quite strange happened between them then. The woman’s eyes widened and she turned pale. “Didn’t you say that you had an appointment,” she said at last in a tentative voice, “that you had an appointment, ma’am? Please don’t let me keep you.”
“Yes, okay,” Maya said, “good-bye, wiedersehen.” She left the Hofbrauhaus.
Ulrich was waiting for her outside in the street. He had put his woolly suit back on. “You take much too long,” he chided, turning. “Come with me.” He began walking up the street, to a tubestation.
On the way down the escalator Ulrich opened his brown backpack and began rooting in its depths. “Ah-hah! Yes, I knew it.” He pulled up a little featherlight earclamp. “Here, wear