Page 452 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

Rebecca realized her mind had wandered from Bernd. It was time to go. "Good-bye, my love," she said softly, and she walked slowly away from the grave.

She pulled her heavy coat around her and folded her arms as she crossed the cold cemetery. She gratefully got into her vehicle and turned on the engine. She was still driving the van with the wheelchair hoist. It was time she traded it in for a normal car.

She drove to her apartment. Outside her building was a shiny black Mercedes S500, with a chauffeur in a cap standing beside it. Her spirits lifted. As she expected, she found that Walli had let himself into the apartment with his own key. He was sitting at the kitchen table with the radio on, tapping his foot to a pop song. On the table was a copy of Plum Nellie's latest album, The Interpretation of Dreams. "I'm glad I caught you," he said. "I'm on my way to the airport. I'm flying to San Francisco." He stood up to kiss

her.

He would be forty in a couple of years, and he looked great. He still smoked, but he never took drugs or alcohol. He was wearing a tan leather jacket over a blue denim shirt. Some girl ought to snap him up, Rebecca thought; but although he had girlfriends he seemed in no hurry to settle down.

When she kissed him she touched his arm and noticed that the leather of his jacket was as soft as silk. It had probably cost a fortune. She said: "But you've only just finished your album."

"We're doing a tour of the States. I'm going to Daisy Farm for three weeks of rehearsal. We open in Philadelphia in a month."

"Give the boys my love."

"Sure will."

"It's a while since you toured."

"Three years. Hence the long rehearsal. But stadium gigs are where it's at now. It's not like the All-Star Touring Beat Revue, with twelve bands playing two or three songs each to a couple of thousand people in a theater or gymnasium. It's just fifty thousand people and us."

"Will you do some European dates?"

"Yes, but they haven't been fixed yet."

"Any in Germany?"

"Almost certainly."

"Let me know."

"Of course. I may be able to get you a free ticket."

Rebecca laughed. As Walli's sister she was treated like royalty whenever she went backstage at a Plum Nellie gig. The band had often talked in interviews about the old days in Hamburg, and how Walli's big sister used to give them their only good meal of the week. For that she was famous in the world of rock and roll.

"Have a great tour," she said.

"You're about to fly to Budapest, aren't you?"

"For a trade conference, yes."

"Will there be some East Germans there?"

"Yes, why?"

"Do you think one of them might be able to get an album to Alice?"

Rebecca grimaced. "I don't know. My relations with East German politicians are not warm. They think I'm a lackey of the capitalist-imperialists, and I think they are unelected thugs who rule by terror and keep their people imprisoned."

Walli smiled. "So, not much common ground, then."

"No. But I'll try."

"Thanks." He handed her the disc.

Rebecca looked at the photograph on the sleeve, of four middle-aged men with long hair and blue jeans. Buzz, the randy bass player, was overweight. The gay drummer, Lew, was losing his hair. Dave, the leader of the band, had a touch of gray in his hair. They were established, successful, and rich. She remembered the hungry kids who had come here to this apartment: thin, scruffy, witty, charming, and full of hopes and dreams. "You've done well," she said.

"Yeah," said Walli. "We have."

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