They set his shoulder at the officers’ infirmary near Onkel Tom’s Hutte, or at least he was told they did, a day later, when he lay with a morphine hangover under the pink chenille spread at Gelferstrasse. People had drifted in and out, Ron to check, the old woman from downstairs playing nurse, none of them quite real, just figures in a haze, like his arm, white with gauze and adhesive, hanging in a sling, not his at all, someone else’s. Who were they all? When the old woman came back, recognizable now, the billet’s owner, he realized, embarrassed, that he didn’t even know her name. Then the stranger with her, an American uniform, gave him a shot, and they disappeared too. What he saw instead was Gunther’s face, floating in the water. No more points. And later, awake, the face still in his mind, he knew the haze was not just the drugs but a deeper exhaustion, a giving up, because he had done everything wrong.
He was sitting by the window, looking down on the garden where the old woman had snipped parsley, when Lena finally came.
“Eve been so worried. They wouldn’t let me go to the hospital.” Military only. What if he had died?
“You look nice,” he said as she kissed his forehead. Hair pinned up, the dress he had bought in the market.
“Well, for Gelferstrasse,” she said, a look between them, blushing a little, pleased that he’d noticed. “And look, here’s Erich. They say it’s not so bad, the shoulder only. And ribs. Do the drugs make you sleepy? My god, this room.” She went over to the bed, busy, and straightened the spread. “There,” she said, and for an instant he saw her as a younger version of the old woman, a Berliner, going on. “See what Erich brought. It was his idea.”
The boy handed over half a Hershey bar, eyes on the sling.
Jake took the bar, the haze lifting a little, unexpectedly touched. “So much,” he said. “I’ll save it for later, okay?”
Erich nodded. “Can I feel?” he said, pointing to the arm.
“Sure.”
He ran his hand over the tape, working out the mechanics of the sling, interested.
“You have a light touch,” Jake said. “You’ll make a good doctor.”
The boy shook his head. “ Alles ist kaput.”
“Someday,” Jake said, still hazy, then looked at Lena again, trying to focus, clear his head. What, in fact, were they doing here? Was Shaeffer keeping him here? Had they told Lena? He turned to her. Get it over with. “They got Emil.”
“Yes, he came to the flat. With the American. Such a scene, you can’t imagine.”
“To the flat?” Jake said. “Why?” Nothing clear.
“He was looking for something,” Erich said.
The files, even now. “Did he find it?”
“No,” Lena said, looking away.
“He was angry,” the boy said.
“Well, now he’s happy,” Lena said to him quickly. “So never mind. He’s going away, so he’s lucky too.” She looked at Jake. “He said you saved his life.”
“No. That’s not what happened.”
“Yes. The American said so too. Oh, you’re always so modest. It’s like the newsreel.”
“That didn’t happen either.”
“Ouf,” she said, brushing this away. “Well, now it’s over. Do you want something? Can you eat?” Busy again, picking up a shirt from the floor.
“I didn’t save him. He tried to kill me.”
Lena stopped, still half bent over, the shirt in hand. “Such talk. It’s the drugs.”
“No, that’s what happened,” he said, trying to keep his voice level and clear. “He tried to kill me.”
She turned slowly. “Why?”
“The files, I guess. Maybe because he thought he could. No one would know.”
“It’s not true,” she said quietly.
“No? Ask him how he got the scratches on his hand.”
For a moment, silence, broken finally by someone clearing his throat.
“Well, suppose we put all that behind us now, shall we?” Shaeffer came through the door, Ron trailing behind him.
Lena turned to him. “So it’s true?”
“Anybody in a car crash gets a few scratches, you know. Look at you,” he said to Jake.
“You saw it,” Jake said.
“Confusing situation like that? A lot of splashing, that’s what I saw.”
“So it is true,” Lena said, sinking onto the bed.
“Sometimes the truth’s a little overrated,” Shaeffer said. “Doesn’t always fit.”
“Where have you got him?” Jake said.
“Don’t worry, he’s safe. No thanks to you. Hell of a place to pick to go swimming. God knows what’s in there. Doc says we’d better get some sulfa drugs into him before we take him to Kransberg. Might spread.”
“You’re taking him to Kransberg?”
“Where’d you think I was taking him-to the Russians?” Said genially, without guile, his smile pushing the rest of Jake’s haze away. Not Shaeffer after all. Someone else.
“Tell me the truth,” Lena said. “Did Emil do that?”
Shaeffer hesitated. “He might have got a little agitated is all. Now let’s forget about all that. We’ll get Geismar fixed up here and every-body’ll be just fine.”
“Yes, fine,” Lena said, distracted.
“We have a few things to go over,” Ron said.
Lena looked at the boy, who’d been following their conversation like a tennis match.
“Erich, do you know what’s downstairs? A gramophone. American records. You go listen and I’ll be down soon.”
“Take him down and get him set up,” Shaeffer said to Ron, giving orders now. “Your kid?” he said to Lena.
Lena shook her head, staring at the floor.
“All right,” Shaeffer said, turning to Jake, back to business. “Why the hell did you keep running away from me?”
“I thought you were someone else,” Jake said, still trying to work it out. “He knew I’d be there.” He looked up. “But you knew I’d be there too. How did you?”
“Boys over in intelligence got a tip.”
“From whom?”
“I don’t know. Really,” Shaeffer said, suddenly earnest. “You know how those things work. You get a tip, you don’t have time to chase around to see where it comes from-you find out if it’s true. You ran out on us once. Why the fuck wouldn’t I believe it?” He glanced over at Lena. “I thought you were doing the lady another favor.”
“No, I was doing you a favor.”
“Yeah? And look what happened. Who’d you think I was?”
“The man who shot Tully.”
“Tully? I told you once, I don’t give a shit about Tully.” He looked over. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know. Now I’m not going to.”
“Well, who cares?”
“You should. The man who shot him got Brandt out of Kransberg.”
“Well, I’m putting him back. That’s all that matters now. The rest, that’s all forgotten.” Another American smile, last week’s game.
“You’ve still got some bodies to account for. You going to forget about them too?”
“I didn’t shoot them.”
“Just the tire.”
“Yeah, well, the tire. I figure I owe you for that one. Not that I fucking owe you anything. But it fits. Ron says we can play it this way.
“What are you talking about? You’ve got people shot in public. Witnesses. How do you play that?”
“Well, that’s a question of what was seen, isn’t it? A German guns down a Russian officer, hightails it away, gets followed, gets killed. Kind of thing happens in Berlin.“
“In front of the whole press corps.”
Shaeffer smiled. “But the only one they recognize in the whole mess is you. Isn’t that right, Ron?”
“Afraid so,” Ron said, coming back in. “Hard to keep track of what’s what when things are-hectic.”
“So?”
“So they know you were there. You were seen, so we had to explain you.
“Explain me how?”
“Damned fool thing going after him like that,” Shaeffer said. “But that’s the kind of damned fool thing you do. Got a reputation for it. And the press-you can’t blame them-they always like it when the hero’s one of their own.”
“Fuck you. That’s not the way I’m going to write it.”
Ron looked at him. “That’s the way it’s gone out. From everybody. While you’ve been on the critical list. ‘Hanging by a thread,’ as they say. They did, too.”
“I said I owed you for the tire. So now you’re a fucking hero. Not that you deserve it. But it fits.”
“Maybe the Russians won’t agree. They were there too.”
“Only the one who’s dead.”
“You shoot the guys in the Horch?”
“What Horch?” Shaeffer said, looking up. “Next question.”
“Who shot Gunther then? He didn’t die in a car crash. There’s a bullet in him. So who put it there?”
“You did,” Shaeffer said calmly.
Ron leaped in before Jake could say anything. “See, Kalach-that’s the Russian he shot-saw him aim for the stands. Lucky Kalach got to him before he could take out Zhukov-that’s who we think he was after. Of course, not so lucky for Kalach. But hell, it might have been Patton. On Victory Day. That kind of thing brings them out, makes a statement. Apparently there were personal problems-a drunk, never really got over the war. Cop who went bad-you know, when they do that, there’s nothing worse. Do anything. Not that I blame him for having a grudge against the Russians.”
“You can’t do that to him,” Jake said quietly. “He was a good man.”
“He’s dead,” Shaeffer said. “It fits.”
“Not for me. And it won’t fit for the Russians.”
“Yes, it will. A Russian saved Zhukov. He’ll get the thanks of a grateful nation. And you get ours. Allied cooperation.”
“And how do you explain Emil?”
“We don’t. Emil wasn’t there. He’s been in Kransberg. We can’t say we lost him. The Russians can’t say they ever had him. There was no incident. That’s the way this one works.” Shaeffer stopped, meeting Jake’s eyes. “Nobody wants an incident.”
“I won’t let you do this. Not to Gunther.”
“What are you beefing about? You’re sitting pretty. You’ll get a fat contract, we get Brandt back, and the Russians can’t do a damn thing. That’s what I call a happy ending. See? I always said we’d make a good team.”
“It’s not true,” Jake said stubbornly.
“It is, though,” Ron said. “I mean, you’ve got a whole press corps that’s just filed the story, so it must be.”
“Not after I file mine.”
“I hate to say it, but people are going to be awfully annoyed if you do that. They make you a hero and you throw egg on their faces? No, you don’t want to do that. In fact, you can’t.”
“Because you’d spike it? Is that the way we do our reporting now? Like Dr. Goebbels.”
“Don’t get carried away. We make certain accommodations, that’s all,” Ron said, indicating Shaeffer. “For the good of the MG. So will you.
“Real sweethearts, aren’t you?” Jake said, his voice low, scraping bottom.
“You want to cry over some dead kraut, do it on your own time,” Shaeffer said, impatient now. “We’ve had enough trouble as it is getting our man back. We understand each other?”
Jake looked out the window again. After all, did it matter? Gunther was gone and so was the lead to the other man, the case as hopeless now as the scraggly garden below.
“Go away,” he said.
“Which means yes, I suppose. Well, fine.” Shaeffer picked up his hat. “I gather the lady’s staying with you?”
“Yes,” Lena said.
“Then I guess you got what you wanted too. That the reason for the little water fight?”
So he still didn’t know. But did that matter either? Emil would search again and find the overlooked file, solve that problem too. His happy ending. Innocent, the way Shaeffer would want it anyway.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Jake said.
“Never mind,” Shaeffer said, glancing at Lena. “Can’t say I blame him.” An easy compliment. He turned to go. “Oh, one more thing. Brandt says you have some papers that belong to him.”
Lena looked up. “Did he say what they were?”
“Notes of his. Something he needs for von Braun. Seems to think they’re pretty important. Kind of tore the place apart, didn’t he?” he said to Lena. “I’m sorry about that.”
“More lies,” she said, shaking her head.
“Ma’am?”
“And you’re taking him to America.”
“We’re going to try.”
“Do you know what kind of a man he is?” she said, looking directly at him, so that he shifted on his feet, uncomfortable.
“All I know is Uncle Sam wants him to build some rockets. That’s all I care about.”
“He lies to you. And you lie for him. You told me he saved Jake’s life. My god, and I believed you. And now you believe him. Notes. What a pair you are.”
“I’m only doing my job.”
Lena nodded her head, smiling faintly. “Yes, that’s what Emil said too. What a pair you are.”
Shaeffer held up his hand, flustered. “Now, don’t get me involved in domestic arguments. What happens between a man and his wife-” He dropped it and turned to Jake. “Anyway, whatever they are, do you have them?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Lena said.
Shaeffer peered at her, unsure where to take this, then back at Jake. Do you?
But Jake was looking at Lena, everything clear now, not even a wisp of haze. “I don’t know what Emil’s talking about.”
Shaeffer stood for a second, fingering his hat, then let it go. “Well, no matter. They’re bound to turn up somewhere. Hell, I thought he could do everything in his head.”
Afterward, the room was quiet enough to hear his footsteps on the stairs.
“Did you destroy them?” Jake said finally.
“No, I have them.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. I thought I would. And then they came to the flat. He was like a crazy man. Where are they? Where are they? You’re on his side. The way he looked at me then. And I thought, yes, his side.” She stopped, looking at him.
“Where were they?”
“In my bag.” She walked over to the bed and pulled the papers out of her bag. “Of course, he never thought to look there. My things. Everywhere else. I stood there watching him-like a crazy man-and I knew. He never came to Berlin for me, did he?”
“Maybe both.”
“No, only these. Here.” She carried them over to his chair. “You know and you don’t know-that’s how everything was. Just now, when you told me what happened, there was a click in my head. Do you know why? I wasn’t surprised. It was like before-you know and you don’t know. I don’t want to live like that anymore. Here.”
But Jake didn’t move, just looked at the buff sheets held out between them.
“What do you want me to do with them?”
“Give them to the Americans. Not that one,” she said, gesturing toward the door. “He’s the same. Another Emil. Any lie.” Then she pulled the papers back to her so that for a second Jake thought she couldn’t go through with it after all. “No. I’ll take them. Tell me where. There’s a name?”
“Bernie Teitel. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Oh, it’s not for you,” she said. “For me. Maybe for Germany, does that sound crazy? To start somewhere. So there’s still something left. Not just Emils. Anyway, look at you. Where can you go like that?”
“As it happens, he lives downstairs.”
“Yes? So it’s not so far.”
“For you it is.” He reached up for the papers. “He’s still something to you.”
She shook her head. “No,” she said slowly. “Just a boy in a pic-ture.
They looked at each other for a minute, then Jake leaned forward, ignoring the papers and covering her hand instead.
She smiled and turned his hand over, tracing the palm with her finger. “Such a line. In a man.”
“You make a nice couple.” Shaeffer, standing in the doorway with Erich. “I brought the kid back.” He crossed over to them, Erich in tow. “Aren’t you the sly one?” he said to Lena, holding out his hand. “I’ll take them.”
“They don’t belong to you. Or Emil,” Lena said.
“No, the United States government.” He wiggled the fingers of his open hand in a give-me gesture. “Thanks for saving me another look-see. I figured.” He took the end of the papers. “That’s an order.” He stared at her until she released them.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jake said.
“What do you think you’re doing? This is government property. You’re going to get yourself in trouble if you’re not careful.”
“They go to Teitel.”
“I’ll save you the trip.” He started riffling through, glancing at the pages. “Not rocket notes, I take it. Want to tell me?”
“Reports from Nordhausen,” Jake said. “Facts and figures from the camps. Slave labor details. What the scientists knew. Lots of interesting stuff. Keep looking-you’ll find a lot of your friends there.”
“Is that a fact. And you think this might make things a little embarrassing for them.”
“It might make them war criminals.”
Shaeffer looked up from the files. “You know, your trouble is you’re in the wrong war. You’re still fighting the last one.”
“They were involved,” Jake said, insistent.
“Geismar, how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t care.”
“You should care,” Lena said. “They killed people.”
“That’s good, coming from a German. Who do you think killed them? Or do you just want your husband to take the rap? Convenient.”
“You can’t talk to her that way,” Jake said, starting to get up, wincing as Shaeffer pushed him back.
“Watch your shoulder. Well, now we’ve got a situation. What a pain in the ass you are.”
“I’ll be a bigger pain in the ass if Teitel doesn’t get those files. Not even Ron’s going to spike this story.”
“Which one is that?”
“Try a congressman bringing Nazis into the States.”
“He wouldn’t like that.”
“Or a tech team playing hide-and-seek with the Russians. Lots of ways to go, if I want to. Or we could do it the right way. You helping the Military Government do what it says it’s trying to do, bring these fucks to trial. A trial story. This time, you’re the hero.”
“Let me explain something to you,” Shaeffer said. “Plain and simple. Look at this country. These scientists are the only reparations we’re likely to get. And we’re going to get them. We need them.”
“To fight the Russians.”
“Yes, to fight the Russians. You ought to figure out whose side you’re on.”
“And it doesn’t matter about the camps.”
“I don’t care if they banged Mrs. Roosevelt. We need them. Got it?”
“If Teitel doesn’t get those files, I’ll do the story. Don’t think I won t.
“I think you won’t.”
Shaeffer turned the papers sideways, and before Jake could move, tore them across.
“Don’t,” Jake said, starting to rise, the sound of tearing jolting across him like the pain shooting through his shoulder. Another tear, Jake only half out of his seat, then falling back, watching helplessly as the paper became pieces. “You bastard.” A final rip.
Shaeffer took a step toward the window and flung them out, large bits of paper, suspended, then caught by the wind, flying over the garden-not small; about the same size, Jake saw, staring hypnotically, as the bills that had danced and blown over the Cecilienhof lawn.
“Like I said,” Shaeffer said, turning back, “you’re in the wrong war. That one’s over.”
Jake watched him go, brushing past Lena and wide-eyed Erich, who had already known everything was kaput.
“I feel I’ve let you down too,” Jake said to Bernie. “You more than anybody, I guess.”
They had come to Gunther’s to pick up the persilscheins and found the room ransacked, stacks pulled apart, torn boxes littering the floor.
“Join the crowd. Everybody lets me down,” Bernie said, a light growl, not really angry. “Christ, look at this. Word gets around fast. Ever notice how the liquor’s the first thing to go? Then the coffee.” He picked up the folders from the floor and stacked them. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, okay? At least I know what to look for. That’s more than I had before. There’s lots of evidence floating around Germany-some of it could still land on my desk.”
“You’ll never get them,” Jake said, gloomy.
“Then we’ll get someone else,” Bernie said, going through a bureau drawer. “Not exactly a shortage.”
“But doesn’t it bother you?”
“Bother me?” He turned to Jake, shoulders sagging. “Let me tell you something. I came over here, I thought I was really going to do something. Justice. And where did I end up? At the back of the line. Everybody’s got a hand out. ‘We can’t do it all.’ Feed the peoplethey’re starving. Get Krupp up and running again, get the mines open. The Jews? Well, that was terrible, sure, but what are we supposed to do this winter if we don’t get some coal out of the Russians? Freeze? Everybody’s got a priority. Except the Jews aren’t on anybody’s list. We’ll deal with that later. If anybody has the time. So I lose a few scientists? I’m still trying to get the camp guards.”
“Small fry.”
“Not to the people they killed.” He paused. “Look, I don’t like it either. But that’s the way it is. You think you’re going to set the world on fire and you come here-all you do is pick through the damage. Without a priority. So you do what you can.”
“Yeah, I know, one at a time. An eye for an eye.”
Bernie looked up. “That’s a little Old Testament for me. There isn’t any punishment, you know. How do you punish this?”
“Then why bother?”
“So we know. Every trial. This is what happened. Now we know. Then another trial. I’m a DA, that’s all. I bring things to trial.”
Jake looked down, fingering the persilscheins on the table. “I still wish I had the files. They weren’t guards-they should have known setter.”
“Geismar,” Bernie said softly, “everybody should have known better.”
“Would it help if I wrote something? Got you some press?”
Bernie smiled and went back to the drawer. “Save your ink. Go home. Look at you, all banged up. Haven’t you had enough?”
“I’d like to know.”
“What?”
“Who the other man is.”
“That? You’re still on that? What’s the point?”
“Well, for one thing, he could still be working for the Russians.” Jake dropped the folder on the table. “Anyway, I’d like to know for Gunther, finish the case for him.”
“I doubt he cares anymore. Or do you have ways of getting messages up there?”
Jake walked over to the map, left in place by the scavengers. The Brandenburg. The wide chausee, where the reviewing stand had been.
“Why would someone working for the Russians tip off the Americans where Emil was going to be? Why would he do that?”
“You got me.”
“Now, see, Gunther would have figured it out. That’s the kind of thing he was good at-things that didn’t add up.”
“Not anymore,” Bernie said. “Hey, look at this.”
He had pulled an old square box from the back of the drawer, velvet or felt, like a jewel case, opened now to a medal. Jake thought of the hundreds lying on the Chancellery floor, not put away like this, treasured.
“Iron Cross, first class,” Bernie said. “Nineteen seventeen. A veteran. He never said.”
Jake looked at the medal, then handed it back. “He was a good German.”
“I wish I knew what that meant.” “It used to mean this,” Jake said. “Almost done?” “Yeah, grab the files. You think there’s anything in the bedroom? Not many effects, are there?”
“Just the books.” He took a Karl May from the shelf, a souvenir, then moved to the table and picked up one of the folders and flipped it open. A Herr Krieger, said to have been in a concentration camp, now Category IV, no evidence of Nazi activity, release advised. He glanced idly down the page, then stopped, staring at it.
Of course. No, not of course. Impossible.
“My god,” he said.
“What?” Bernie said, coming in from the bedroom.
“You know how you said evidence lands on your desk? Some just landed on mine. I think.” Jake scooped up the files. “I need the jeep.”
“The jeep?”
“I have to check something. Another file. It won’t take long.”
“You can’t drive like that. One hand?”
“I’ve done it before.” Bumping through the Tiergarten. “Come on, quick,” he said, his hand out for the keys.
“It’s getting dark,” Bernie said, but tossed them over. “What am I supposed to do here?”
“Read that.” He nodded at the Karl May. “He tells a hell of a story.”
He headed west to Potsdamerstrasse, then south toward Kleist Park. In the dusk only the bulky Council headquarters had shape, lit up by a few offices working late, the car park nearly deserted. Up the opera house staircase, down the hall, the translucent door to Muller’s office dark but not locked. Only the Germans huddled behind locks now.
He flicked on the light. Jeanie’s usual neat desk, every pencil put away. He went over to the filing cabinet and flipped the tabs until he found the right folder, then carried it back to the desk with the per-silscheins. It was only after he’d looked through it, then at the per-silscheins once more, that he sat down, sinking back against the chair, thinking. Follow the points. But he saw, even before he reached the bottom of the column, that Gunther had found it without even knowing. Sitting there all along.
And now what? Could he prove it? He could already see, with the inevitable sinking feeling, that Ron would take care of this too, another story to protect the guilty, in the interests of the Military
Government. Maybe a little quiet justice later, when no one was looking. And why should anyone look? Emil back safe, the Russians foiled-everyone satisfied except Tully, who hadn’t mattered in the first place. The wrong war again. Jake would win and get nothing. Not even reparations. He sat up, staring at Tully’s transfer sheet, the block capitals in fuzzy carbon. Not this time. Not an eye for an eye, but something, a different reparation, one for the innocent.
He leaned over, opened the desk drawers to his side, and rummaged through. Stacks of government forms, printed, second sheets gummed for carbons, arranged in marked piles. He mentally tipped his hat to Jeanie. Everything in its place. He pulled one out, then looked for another, a different pile, and swung around to the typewriter, removing the cover with his good hand and rolling in the first form, aligning it so that the letters would fill the box without hitting the line, official. When he started to type, a one-finger peck, the sound of the keys filled the room and drifted out to the lonely corridor. A guard came by, suspicious, but only nodded when he saw Jake’s uniform.
“Working late? You ought to give it a rest, with the sling and all.”
“Almost done.”
But in fact it seemed to take hours, one keystroke at a time, his shoulder hurting. Then he realized he’d need a supporting document and had to search the desk again. He found it in the bottom drawer, next to a stash of nail polish from the States. So Jeanie had a friend. He rolled the new form into place and started typing, still careful, nothing messy. He was almost finished when a shadow from the doorway fell over the page.
“What are you doing?” Muller said. “The guard said-”
“Filling out some forms for you.”
“Jeanie can do that,” he said, wary.
“Not these. Have a seat. I’m almost done.”
“Have a seat?” he said, drawing his shoulders back in surprise. Old army.
“There,” Jake said, rolling the form out. “All ready. All you have to do is sign.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You know how to do that. That’s what you do. Lots of signatures. Like these.” He pushed over the Bensheim releases from Gunther’s.
Muller picked them up, a quick glance. “Where did you get these?”
“I looked. I like to know things.”
“Then you know these are forged.”
“Are they? Maybe. This isn’t.” He held up the other folder.
“What isn’t?” Muller said, not even bothering to look.
“Tully’s transfer home. You transferred him. Tully was attached to Frankfurt. There was never any reason for a copy of his orders to end up here, except a copy would go to the authorizing officer. Regulations. So one did. Maybe you didn’t even know it was here-Jeanie just filed it away with everything else that came in. She’s an efficient girl. Never occurred to her to-” He dropped the folder. “Of course, it never occurred to me either. Why there’d be a copy here. But then, a lot of things didn’t occur to me. Why you’d hold out on me with the CID report. Why you’d lead me on that wild goose chase with the black market. I thought I was dragging it out of you-that must have been fun to watch, me asking all the wrong questions. Let’s not embarrass the MG.” He paused, looking up at the lean Judge Hardy face, older than he remembered. “You know the funny thing? I still don’t want it to be you. Maybe it’s the hair. You don’t fit the part. You were one of the good guys. I thought at least there had to be one.”
“Don’t want what to be me?”
“You killed him.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“And it almost worked, too. If he’d just stayed down there in the Havel. Just-disappeared. The way Emil did. But he didn’t.”
“You enjoy this? Making up stories?”
“Mm. This is a good one. Let me try it on you. Have a seat.”
But Muller remained standing, shoulders erect, his tall frame looming over the desk, waiting, like a weapon held in reserve.
“Let’s start with the transfer. That’s what should have tipped me if I’d been paying attention. Gunther would have seen it-that’s the kind of thing he noticed. Transfer a man you didn’t know. Except you did. Your old partner.” Jake nodded at the persilscheins. “Just why you wanted to get him home I’m not sure, but I can guess. Of course, he wasn’t the most reliable guy to do business with in the first place, but my guess is that you got nervous. Everything worked the way it was supposed to. Brandt’s trail was cold before they even knew there was one. But then Shaeffer started sniffing around. He’s a guy who likes to make noise. Set off some bells and whistles-I think that’s the expression he used. Which means he went to MG. Which means they started going off here. With a congressman behind him. Nothing to connect you yet. But now it wasn’t going to go away either. And there’s Tully-talk about a weak link. Who knew what he’d say? How long before Shaeffer found out you’d done business before?“ Another nod at the Bensheim file.
“You with me so far? So the easiest thing was to send him homeall you had to do was sign a form. That’s what everybody wants, isn’t it? Except this time it didn’t take. Tully didn’t want to go home-he had plans here. You call him to Berlin, in a hurry, not even time to pack, get him on the first plane. You might have waited, by the way. Did you know he was coming anyway? A Tuesday appointment. But no matter. The point was to get it done fast. Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry. Sikorsky meets him at the airport and drops him at the Control Council.”
Muller raised his head to speak.
“Don’t bother,” Jake said. “He told me so himself. So Tully comes to pick up a jeep. But nobody just waltzes in and takes a jeep. It’s not a taxi stand out there. Motor pool assigns them. To you, for instance. I could check how many you had signed out that day, but why bother now? One of yours.
“Where you were, I don’t know-probably at a meeting, defending the free and the brave. Which is why you couldn’t meet him in the first place. The plane was late, which must have cut into your schedule. Anyway, busy. Which was too bad, because Tully got busy too, down at the Document Center, so that when you met him there later, he had a new racket going. Not to mention a new payment from Sikorsky. Which he didn’t, I guess-mention, that is.”
He watched Muller’s face. “No, he wouldn’t. But all the more reason now to hang around-more money where that came from. You tell me how it played from there. Did he tell you where to stick your transfer? Or did he threaten to expose you if you didn’t play ball? In for a penny, in for a pound. Plenty of money to be made on those SS files. Shaeffer? You could take care of him. You’d taken care of Bensheim, hadn’t you? And if you couldn’t-well, you’d have to, or he’d take you down with him. Anyway, he sure as hell wasn’t going to Natick, Mass., when there was a fortune to be made here. Of course, it’s possible you got rid of him to keep the files all to yourself, but he didn’t have the files yet, the Doc Center had come up dry so far, so I think it’s just that he boxed you in so tight, you didn’t think you had much choice. The transfer would have been so easy. But you still had to get rid of him somehow. Is that more the way it was? “
Muller said nothing, his face blank.
“So you did. A little ride out to the lake to talk things over-you don’t want to be seen together. And Tully’s stubborn. He’s got a belt full of money and god knows what dancing in his head, and he tells you the way it’s going to be. Not just Brandt. More. And you know it’s not going to work. Brandt was one thing-he even helped. But now you’ve got Shaeffer around. Do the smart thing-take the money and run, before it’s too late. The last thing Tully wants to hear. Maybe the last thing he did hear. I’ll give you this much-I don’t think you planned it. Too sloppy, for one thing-you didn’t even take his tags after you shot him, just threw him in. No weights. Maybe you thought the boots would do it. Probably you weren’t thinking at all, just panicked. That kind of crime. Anyway, it’s done and he’s gone. And then-here’s the best part, even I couldn’t make it up-you went home and had dinner with me. And I liked you. I thought you were what we were here for. To make the peace. Christ, Muller.”
“Everything okay here?” The guard, surprising them from the door.
Muller swiveled, moving his hand to his hip, then stopped.
“We’re almost done,” Jake said steadily, staring at Muller’s hand.
“Getting late,” the guard said.
Muller blinked. “Yes, fine,” he said, his MG voice, dropping his hand. He turned back and waited, his eyes locked on Jake, until the steps in the hall grew faint.
“Jumpy?” Jake said. He nodded at Muller’s hip. “Watch yourself with that.”
Muller leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk. “You take some chances.”
“What? That you’ll plug me? I doubt it.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, not here. Think of the mess. What would Jeanie say?
Besides, you already tried that once.“ He looked at him until Muller took his hands away from the desk, as if he’d literally been pushed back by Jake’s stare.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“In Potsdam. That’s when everything started falling apart. Now you had real blood on your hands. Not just a small-time chiseler. Liz. How’d that make you feel when you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“You killed her too. Same as if you pulled the trigger.”
“You can’t prove this,” Muller said, almost a whisper.
“Want to bet? What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? You know, I might not even have tried if it had just been Tully. I guess you could say he got what was coming to him. But Liz didn’t. Gunther was right about that too. The when. Why try to kill me then? Another thing that didn’t occur to me until now, when I started putting things together. Why do it at all? Tully’s dead, and so’s Shaeffer’s trail. No way to connect you. Even after he washes up-quick report, body’s shipped out before anybody can take a good look. Not that anybody wanted to-all they were looking at was the money. What other explanation could there be? It’s sure as hell the only one you wanted me to have. Talk about a lucky break for you. Money you didn’t even know he had. What did you think when it turned up, by the way? I’d be curious to know.”
Muller said nothing.
“Just a little gift from the gods, I guess. So you’re safe. Shaeffer’s stuck and I’m off looking at watches in the black market. And then something happens. I start asking questions about Brandt at Kransberg-for personal reasons, but you don’t know that, you think I must know something, made the connection no one else did. And if I’m asking, maybe somebody else is going to put two and two together too. But you can’t get me out of Berlin, that would just make things worse-I’d make a stink and people would wonder. And then, at Tommy’s going-away party, what do I do? I ask you to check the dispatcher at Frankfurt, the one you called-or did you get Jeanie to do it? No, you’d do it yourself-to get Tully on the plane. Personal authorization, not on the manifest. Which he’d remember. Not just close anymore, a real connection. So you panic again. You transfer his ass out of there like that, but even that’s not safe enough. You get somebody to get rid of me in Potsdam. The next day. But that didn’t occur to me either, not then. I was just lying there with an innocent woman’s blood all over me.“
Muller lowered his head. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Jake sat still. Finally there, the confession, so easily said.
“That girl. That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Muller said again. “I never meant her to-”
“No, just me. Christ, Muller.”
“It wasn’t me. Sikorsky. I told him I’d transfer Mahoney, that would do it. I never told him to kill you. Never. Believe me.”
Jake looked up at him. “I do believe you. But Liz is still dead.”
Now Muller did sit down, his body sagging slowly into the chair, head still low, so that only his silver hair caught the light of the desk lamp. “None of this was supposed to happen.”
“You start something, people get in the way. I suppose Shaeffer would have been a bonus.”
“I didn’t even know he was there. I didn’t know. It was all Sikorsky. He was worse than Tully. Once they start-” His voice trailed off.
“Yeah, it’s hard to get away. I know.” Jake paused, toying with the folder. “Tell me something, though. Why’d you tip Shaeffer that I’d be at the parade with Brandt? It had to be you-I’ll bet you know just how to get something to Intelligence like it came out of the air. But why do it? Gunther sets it up with Kalach, who tells you, but you can’t go. The one person who couldn’t. You’re brass, General Clay’s man- you had to be at the parade. Another thing that didn’t occur to me. So, our mistake. But Kalach s going to make the snatch anyway. You could have watched the whole thing without anyone’s being the wiser. Right up there with Patton. Why tip Shaeffer?”
“To put an end to it. If Shaeffer got him back, he’d stop. I wanted it to stop.
“And if he didn’t get him? It didn’t really matter who got him, did it? Maybe Kalach would after all and take Shaeffer out doing it, and it would stop that way. While you were watching.”
“No. I wanted Shaeffer to have him. I thought it would work. Sikorsky would have been suspicious if something went wrong, but the new man-”
“Would have taken the blame himself. And you’d be home free.”
Muller looked over. “I wanted out. Of all of it. I’m not a traitor. When this started, I didn’t know what Brandt meant to us.”
“You mean how much Shaeffer would want him back. Just another one of these,” Jake said, picking up the Bensheim file. “For ten thousand dollars.”
“I didn’t know-”
“Let’s do us both a favor and skip the explanations. Everybody in Berlin wants to give me an explanation, and it never changes anything.” He dropped the folder. “But just give me one. The one thing I still can’t figure. Why’d you do it? The money?”
Muller said nothing, then looked away, oddly embarrassed. “It was just sitting there. So easy.” He turned back to Jake. “Everybody else was getting theirs. I’ve been in the service twenty-three years, and what’s it going to get me? A lousy pension? And here’s a little snot like Tully with plenty of change in his pockets. Why not?” He pointed to the persilscheins. “The first few, at Bensheim, I didn’t even know what I was signing. Just more paper. There was always something-he knew how to slip them through. Then I finally realized what he was doing-”
“And could have court-martialed him. But you didn’t. He make you a deal? ”
Muller nodded. “I’d already signed. Why not a few more?” he said, his voice vague, talking to himself. “Nobody cared about the Germans, whether they got out or not. He said if it went wrong later, I could say he’d forged them. Meanwhile, the money was there-all you had to do was pick it up. Who would know? He could be persuasive when he wanted to be-you didn’t know that about him.”
“Maybe he had a willing audience,” Jake said. “Then things got tricky at Bensheim, so you got him out of there-another one of your quick transfers-and the next thing you know, he turns up with another idea. Still persuasive. Not just a little persilschein this time. Real money.”
“Real money,” Muller said quietly. “Not some lousy pension. You know what that’s like, waiting for a check every month? You spend your whole life just to get the rank and these new guys come in-”
“Spare me,” Jake said.
“That’s right,” Muller said, his mouth twisted. “You don’t need an explanation. You already know everything you want to know.”
Jake nodded. “That’s right. Everything.”
“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Muller said. “Now what are you going to do? Call the MPs? You don’t really think I can let you do that, do you? Not now.”
“Ordinarily, no. But don’t get trigger-happy yet,” Jake said, glancing toward Muller’s hip again. “I’m a friend to the army, remember?”
Muller looked up. “Meaning?”
“Meaning nobody’s going to call anybody.”
“Then what? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to let you get away with murder.” Neither of them said anything for a moment, staring. Then Jake sat back. “That seems to be the general policy around here. If it’s useful to us. So now you’re going to be useful to me.”
“What do you want?” Muller said, still staring, not quite sure how to take this.
Jake tossed one of the forms over to him. “Your signature. First this one.”
Muller picked it up and looked it over, a bureaucrat’s reflex. Read before you sign, Tully’s inadvertent lesson. “Who’s Rosen?”
“A doctor. You’re giving him a visa for the States.”
“A German? I can’t do that.”
“Yes you can. In the national interest. Like the other scientists. This one’s even clean-no Nazi affiliations at all. He was in a camp. You fill in the classification code.” He handed over a pen. “Sign it.”
Muller took the pen. “I don’t understand,” he said, but when Jake didn’t answer, he leaned forward and scribbled in one of the boxes, then signed the bottom.
“Now this one.”
“Erich Geismar?” He s my son.
“Since when?”
“Since you signed this. U.S. citizen. Rosen’s taking him home.”
“A child? He’ll need proof of citizenship.”
“He has it,” Jake said, tossing him the last form. “Right here. Sign that too.”
“The law says-”
“You’re the law. You asked for proof and I gave it to you. It says so right here. Now sign off on it and it’s official. Sign it.”
Muller began writing. “What about the mother?” A clerk’s question in a consulate.
“She’s dead.”
“German?”
“But he’s American. MG just said so.”
When Muller was finished, Jake took the forms back and tore off the bottom carbons. “Thank you. You just did something decent for a change. Your copies where?”
Muller nodded to a box on Jeanie’s desk.
“Careful you don’t lose them. You’ll need the particulars, in case anybody wants to verify them with you. And you will verify them. Personally. If there’s any problem at all. Understood?”
Muller nodded. Jake stood up, folding the papers into his breast pocket. “Fine. Then that does it. Always useful to have a friend in the MG.”
“That’s all?”
“You mean am I going to put the bite on you for something else? No. I’m not Tully.” He patted his pocket. “You’re giving them a life. That seems a fair trade to me. I don’t particularly care what you do with yours.”
“But you know-”
“Well, that’s just it. You were right about one thing, you see. I can’t prove it.”
“Can’t prove it,” Muller said faintly.
“Oh, don’t get excited,” Jake said, catching Muller’s expression. “Don’t get any ideas either. I can’t prove it, but I can come close. CID must still have the bullet they took out of Tully. They could make a match. But maybe not. Guns have a way of disappearing. And I suppose I could track down the dispatcher you sent home. But you know something? I don’t care anymore. I have all the reparations I want. And you-well, I guess you’ll have some worried nights, and that’s fine with me too. So let’s just leave it there. But if anything goes wrong with these,” he said, touching his pocket again, “your luck runs out, understand? I can’t prove it in court, but I can come close enough for the army. I’d do it, too. Lots of mud, the kind of thing they don’t like at all. Maybe a dishonorable. The pension for sure. So just play ball and everybody walks away.”
“And that’s all?”
“Well, one more thing, now that you mention it. You can’t transfer yourself home, but make the request to Clay. Health reasons. You can’t stay here. The Russians don’t know you tipped Shaeffer. They think you’re still in business. And they can be persuasive too. That’s the last thing the MG needs-a worm in the barrel. They’ve got their hands full just trying to figure out what they’re doing here. Maybe they’ll even bring in somebody who can do the place some good. I doubt it, but maybe.” He stopped, looking down at the silver hair. “I thought that was you. But I guess something got in your way.”
“How do I know you’ll-”
“Well, strictly speaking, you don’t. Like I said, some worried nights. But don’t have them here. Not in Berlin. Then I might just change my mind.” Jake picked up the Bensheim folders and stacked them. “I’ll keep these.” He went around the desk, starting for the door. “Go home. You need a job, go see American Dye. I hear they’re hiring. I’ll bet they’d go for somebody just like you, with your experience. Just stay out of Berlin. Anyway, you don’t want to run into me again-that’d just make you nervous. And you know what? I don’t want to run into you either.”
“You’re staying here?”
“Why not? Lots of stories in Berlin.”
Muller shook his head. “Your press pass expires,” he said dully, an official.
Jake smiled, surprised. “I’ll bet you know the exact hour too. All right, one more thing then. Have Jeanie do up a residence permit tomorrow. Indefinite stay. Special from the MG. Sign that and we’re done.”
“Are we?” Muller said, looking up.
“I am. You have some nights to get through, but you will. People do. It’s something you learn here-after a while nobody remembers anything.” He walked to the door.
“Geismar?” Muller said, stopping him. He rose from the chair, his face even older, slack. “It was just the money. I’m a soldier. I’m not a- Honest to god, I never meant this to happen. Any of it.”
Jake turned. “That should make them easier, then. The nights.” He looked over at him. “It’s not much, though, is it?” Contents — Previous Chapter / Next Chapter