She shook his gnarled hand.

"This will take several days? I was told it could be slow work."

"Maybe a few hours. I type one hundred and twenty conventional words a minute."

She smiled and sat down, shoved last night's faxes to the side of her desk, and leaned towards him.

"You were in school in America when I knew your father."

Full of hope, she'd searched for her American roots and the mother who'd disappeared when she was eight. She hadn't found either. "Briefly. I was an exchange student in New York."

"Your father articulated his casework philosophy to me and I've always remembered it."

"Things weren't usually what they seemed or he'd be out of business?"

Hecht nodded. "You're independent, no ties or affiliations to anyone." His crooked fist drummed the table. "I like that about you."

He knew a lot about her. She also had the distinct impression he was leaving something out. "Our fees are seven hundred and fifty francs a day."

Hecht nodded dismissively. Now she remembered. She'd seen his photo years ago when his evidence helped bring Klaus Barbie to trial.

"Look inside the folder," Hecht said.

Aimee opened his file, noticing the digits and slash marks, a distinctive trademark of Israeli military encryption. Her expertise was in hacking into systems, huge corporate ones. But this code spoke of the Cold War-a slippery tunneling job. She hesitated.

"Two thousand francs are in the folder. Deliver your results to 64 rue des Rosiers to Lili Stein. She's home after her shop closes. I've told her to expect a visitor."

Aimee felt she had to be honest; breaking an encrypted code had never taken her that long. "You've given me too much."

He shook his head. "Take it. She has a hard time getting around. Remember, give this only to Lili Stein."

She shrugged. "No problem."

"You must put this in Lili Stein's hands." Hecht's tone had changed, from fervent to pleading. "Swear to me on your father's grave. On his honor." His eyes locked on to hers.