15 Philharmonie am Gasteig

15 Philharmonie am Gasteig

The Philharmonie am Gasteig, Munich's modern concert hall and cultural center, stood on Rosenheimer Strasse near the banks

of the river Isar. Gabriel, in a dark suit and tie, the shoulders of his cashmere overcoat dusted with snow, presented himself

at the will-call window and in perfect Berlin-accented German requested his ticket for that evening's sold-out performance

of Mendelssohn's E-minor violin concerto and Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.

"Name?" asked the woman behind the glass.

"Klemp," he replied. "Johannes Klemp."

The woman drew a small envelope from the box before her, then, after reviewing the attached sticky note, reached for her phone.

"Is there a problem?" asked Gabriel.

"Not at all, Herr Klemp."

She spoke a few words into the phone, her hand shielding the mouthpiece, and rang off. Then she handed Gabriel the envelope

and pointed toward the doorway at the far end of the foyer.

"The backstage entrance," she explained. "Frau Rolfe is expecting you."

The door had opened by the time Gabriel arrived, and a smiling young woman with a clipboard was standing in the breach. "Right

this way, Herr Klemp," she said, and they set off along a gently curving corridor. Beyond the next door was the backstage

area. The Philharmonie am Gasteig was the home of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, widely regarded as one of the world's

finest. Tonight it would be under the baton of Sir Simon Rattle, who at that moment was chatting with the orchestra's first

concertmaster.

Gabriel's young escort paused before the closed door of a dressing room. The placard indicating the name of the occupant was

unnecessary. She was readily identifiable by the matchless liquid tone she was drawing from her Guarneri violin.

The escort raised a hand to knock.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," said Gabriel.

"She left strict instructions."

"Don't say you weren't warned."

The woman's knock was tepid. Instantly the violin fell silent.

"Who goes there?" asked a voice within.

"Herr Klemp has arrived, Frau Rolfe."

"Please show him in. And then go away."

Gabriel opened the door and went inside. Anna sat before her dressing table, the Guarneri beneath her chin. The garnet-colored

evening gown she wore was shimmering and strapless. Her catlike eyes were fixed on the reflection in the lighted mirror.

"As much as I would like to be kissed by you, I will insist that you somehow restrain yourself. It took several hours of intense

effort to get me looking like this." With her bow she indicated a chair. "Sit, peasant. Speak only when spoken to."

Anna laid the bow on the strings of the Guarneri and, closing her eyes, played a silken E-minor arpeggio over three octaves. She had played the same simple exercise for hours on end during the six months and fourteen days they had lived together at her villa on Portugal's Costa de Prata. It was Gabriel, after first stuffing his possessions into a duffel bag, who had ended the relationship. The lines he recited that day were shopworn but entirely accurate. It was his fault, not hers. It was too soon, he wasn't ready. Tempestuous Anna had endured his performance with uncharacteristic forbearance before finally hurling a ceramic vase at his head and declaring she never wished to speak to him again.

Within a few short months she had wed. The marriage ended with a spectacular divorce, as did her second. There followed a

succession of highly publicized affairs and liaisons, always with rich and famous men, each more disastrous than the last.

During a recent visit to Venice she had made it clear that Gabriel was to blame for her tragic plight. If only he had married

her, had toured the world with her while she basked in the adulation of her fans, she would have been spared a lifetime of

romantic misfortune. It occurred to Gabriel, as he sat in Anna's dressing room, that this was the life she had imagined for

them. She was not about to allow the evening to go to waste.

Her bow went still. "Did you have a chance to talk to Simon? He's quite anxious to meet you."

"Why would Sir Simon Rattle want to meet lowly Johannes Klemp?"

"Because Sir Simon knows Herr Klemp's real name."

"You didn't."

"I might have, yes."

She played the opening melody of the concerto's andante second movement. It sent a chill, like a charge of electricity, down the length of Gabriel's spine, as she had known it would. He nevertheless adopted an expression of mild boredom.

"That bad?" she asked.

"Dreadful."

Frowning, she lit a Gitane in violation of the concert hall's strict no-smoking policy. "You made quite a splash in London

last week."

"You noticed?"

"It was rather hard to miss. But why the silly pseudonym tonight?"

"I'm afraid that Gabriel Allon can't be seen with Anna Rolfe in public."

"Whyever not?"

"Because he needs Anna's help. And he doesn't want his target to know that they are acquainted."

"We were more than acquaintances, my love. Much more."

"It was a long time ago, Anna."

"Yes," she said, contemplating her reflection in the mirror. "I was young and beautiful then. And now..."

"You're no less beautiful."

"I'd be careful, Gabriel. I can be quite irresistible when I want to be." She played the same passage from the concerto's

second movement. "Better?"

"A little."

She took a pull at her cigarette, then crushed it out. "So what do you require of me this time? Another dreary fundraiser

or something a bit more interesting?"

"The latter," said Gabriel.

"No Russians, I hope."

"We should probably talk about this after your performance."

"As it happens, I'm free for dinner."

"A marvelous idea."

"But if we can't be seen together in public, our options are somewhat limited. In fact," said Anna playfully, "it seems to

me that the only place where we can be assured of absolute privacy is my suite at the Mandarin Oriental."

"Will you be able to control yourself?"

"Unlikely."

There was a knock at the door.

"What is it now?" Anna demanded to know.

"Ten minutes, Frau Rolfe."

She looked at Gabriel. "You're free to wait here, if you like."

"And miss your performance?" Gabriel rose to his feet and draped his coat over his arm. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"What time shall I expect you?"

"You tell me."

"Stay for the Beethoven. It will give me a chance to change into something a bit more comfortable." She lifted her check to

be kissed. "You have my permission."

"Somehow I'll resist," said Gabriel, and went out.

Alone in her dressing room, Anna laid her bow upon the strings of the Guarneri and played a G-major scale in broken thirds.

"Don't smile," she said to the woman in the looking glass. "You never play well when you're happy."

***

The seat to which the young escort led Gabriel was in the first row, slightly to the left of Simon Rattle's podium and not more than two meters from the spot where Anna delivered a spellbinding performance of Felix Mendelssohn's masterpiece. At the conclusion of the final movement, the twenty-five hundred members of the audience rose to their feet and showered her with rapturous applause and shouts of "Bravo!" Only then, with a mischievous smile, did she acknowledge Gabriel's presence.

"Better?" she mouthed.

"Much," he replied with a smile.

He adjourned to the foyer for a glass of champagne during the interval and returned to his seat for a memorable performance

of Beethoven's stirring Seventh Symphony. By the time Sir Simon stepped from his podium, it was a few minutes after ten o'clock.

Outside, there were no taxis to be had, so Gabriel set off for the Mandarin Oriental on foot. As he was crossing the Ludwigsbrücke,

a Mercedes sedan drew alongside him and the rear window descended.

"You'd better get in, Herr Klemp. Otherwise, you'll catch your death."

Gabriel opened the door and slid into the back seat. As the car rolled forward, Anna threw her arms around his neck and pressed

her lips against his cheek.

"I thought we were meeting at your hotel," he said.

"I got tied up backstage."

"By whom?"

Anna laughed quietly. "I miss that sense of humor of yours."

"But not the smell of my solvents."

She made a face. "They were atrocious."

"So was the sound of your endless practicing."

"Did it really bother you?"

"Never, Anna."

Smiling, she gazed out her window at the snow-covered streets of Munich's Old Town. "It wouldn't have been so terrible, you

know."

"Being married to you?"

She nodded slowly.

"It was too soon, Anna. I wasn't ready."

She leaned her head against Gabriel's shoulder. "I'd watch your step, if I were you, Herr Klemp. My suite is full of vases.

And this time I won't miss."