25The Elbe moved swiftly between weedy banks, the swollen waters the same shade as the low-hanging overcast. Erika and I stood ten feet from the river, our bicycles leaning against a waist-high concrete wall. Buttoned into a padded blue cotton coat, her hair covered by a matching blue kerchief, Erika sucked hungrily on a cigarette. The smoke wreathed her head, another dulled-out shade of gray on this dour day. I glanced around, checking all directions for any sign that we’d been followed as we biked our way to this vacant lot near the river. I saw nothing alarming. On the hill above us, the spires of Albrechtsburg Castle stabbed upward, a brooding reminder of Meissen’s golden age in the thirteenth century.
It was fifteen minutes past noon on Tuesday. My meeting with Krüger was scheduled t
