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sinister appearance, but time or a wig could erase the lack of hair. The young man had large, strong looking hands with calloused sides that supported his claim to skill in Karate. He looked exactly like the surveillance report said he would. Albert raised his hand to signal Klaus Burchel to come in his direction.
The German nodded that he understood, but his leisurely shuffle didn't pick up the pace. Klaus Burchel swung into the eating area and eased down opposite Stein.
"Hey man, you must be Dr. Albert Stein," the young man said casually.
"And you are Klaus Burchel?" Stein said in a flat voice with no movement in his face.
"You got it, dude." Burchel jutted his lower lip out arrogantly. "At your service."
Stein studied him for a moment. He looked like one of the despicable pack of displaced students wandering around Rome with weird haircuts and drug-induced mentalities. Albert watched the man's eyes and guessed there was much more here than a brain fried from popping pills. Burchel might look like a punk, but he had more between his ears even though he was keeping the fact concealed. Stein already knew far more about the young man than Burchel would have dreamed possible.
"Then, let us begin at the beginning and proceed. You will always call me Dr. Stein and never allude to me by my first name or any asides such as 'man,' or 'dude,' and I intend that you do the same in private. Is that understood?"
Burchel blinked several times. "Sure, yeah."
"I don't want to hear 'yeah' either. Your answers will be 'yes' and 'no,' and I expect you to be candid and straightforward. No jive talk. No drug lingo. Understood?"
"Whatever."
"One more of those cute replies and you're finished."
Burchel's eyes narrowed, and his mouth dropped slightly, but he said nothing.
"If you are going to work for me, our relationship will be on a professional basis with you doing exactly as you are told." Stein leaned forward so he could stare straight into Burchel's eyes. I will always refer to you by the name of Klaus Burchel although I know your real name and who your grandfather was."
Klaus Burchel jerked and the breath seemed to leave him. A defeated look swept over his face and all swagger vanished. "You do?"
"I know you are financially overextended and need the work," Stein continued. "You are in Italy because you needed to get out of Germany for legal reasons as well as a few financial problems. If you perform as you are capable, I will reward you significantly. I am hiring you to be my bodyguard and driver. You will be asked to do a number of things that are illegal. You've done such in the past, so those jobs should not be a problem for you. As your service to me increases, so will your pay. If you don't, you will be instantly terminated. I know that you can become difficult and resistant. I also know you were raised to be conforming. I expect instant obedience. Understood?"
Burchel swallowed hard. "Yes . . . yes. I agree."
"Can I take it you are willing to work on this basis?"
"Absolutely. Yes. I do need the money, but how did you find out about . . . my grandfather?"
"I made a complete check of your background because I have the resources to do so." Stein bounced his long thin fingers together. "I know all about you. For example, I know that you hate Jews and Americans."
Burchel's mouth dropped.
Stein reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. "I am giving you a thousand euros to buy new clothes. Get rid of those despicable tennis shoes and worn pants. Throw them away and start dressing like a competent human being. When I see you again I want you in a suit. Any problem with that?
"No sir!" Klaus Burchel stuck out his hand for the money.
Stein kept the bills in his hand. "Once you take this cash you are working for me and I expect absolute fidelity. You will be at my beck and call twenty-four hours a day. I expect to reach you by cell phone at a moment's notice. Is that clear?"
Burchel's mouth dropped slightly as he nodded his head.
"How