A Good German Page 14

  Jake squeezed between tables until he reached the English soldier. A kid, skinny and bright-eyed, not the grizzled thug he’d imagined.

  “Alford?”

  “Danny. You Gunther’s friend? Have a drink,” he said, pouring one. “Gunther said to fix you up. Anything you like.”

  “Is it okay to talk?” Jake said, looking at the girls as he sat down.

  “Who, them? Right as rain. The only word they know is fuck. Isn’t that right, Use?”

  “Hello,” one of the girls said, evidently her other word, and went back to her plate. A piece of gray meat and two potatoes the size of golf balls. Danny must have eaten elsewhere; there was nothing in front of him but a bottle of scotch.

  “Don’t know where she gets the appetite,” Danny said. “Does the heart good, doesn’t it, to see her go at it? Now, was there something special you like? Something a bit out of the way, or just straight up? You’re an officer, right?” he said, glancing at Jake’s shoulder patch. “They won’t go unless it’s an officer. But they’re all clean. I insist on that. Checked once a week. We don’t want to take any surprises home, do we? Was there something special?”

  “No,” Jake said, embarrassed, “it’s not that. Not girls.”

  “Right,” Danny said, picking up his glass but not missing a beat. “My mistake. Now, the boys are a bit more, you understand. They’re only out once a night. Get used up otherwise. You know.” He looked at Jake. “All Hitler Youth, every one of them. With uniforms, if you like.” Cheerful as a street vendor in Whitechapel.

  Jake, flustered, shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. I’m looking for some information.”

  “You a copper?” Danny said, wary.

  “No.”

  “Well, a friend of Gunther’s. You’d have to be all right, wouldn’t you?” He lit a cigarette, watching Jake while the end caught. “What sort of information?”

  “A man made ten thousand dollars Monday. You hear about anything like that?”

  “Ten thousand,” he said, impressed. “In one go? That’s very nice. Friend of yours?”

  “An acquaintance.”

  “Why not ask him, then?”

  “He’s gone back to Frankfurt. I want to know where he made it.”

  “Want to do a little business yourself, is that it? What are you selling?”

  Jake shook his head again. “I want to know what he was selling.”

  Behind them there was applause as the band stopped for a break the vacuum of the sudden quiet soon filling with louder talk.

  “Why come to me? Ten thousand, that’s not girls, that isn’t.”

  “Gunther said you’re a guy hears things.”

  “Not this,” Danny said firmly, squashing his cigarette in the ashtray.

  “Want to ask around? I could pay.”

  Danny peered at him. “You could pick up a phone and get Frankfurt too.”

  “No. He’s dead.”

  Danny stared at him. “You might have said. Shows a want of trust. Maybe you’d better piss off. I don’t want any trouble.”

  “No trouble. Look, let’s start over. Man I know came to Berlin Monday to do some business and got killed. I’m trying to find out who did it.”

  “Gunther know him too?”

  “No. He’s helping me. The man only spoke English. Gunther thought you might have heard something. A man gets killed, people talk.”

  “Not to me they haven’t. Now piss off.”

  “I just want to know if you’ve heard anything.”

  “Now you know.” Danny took out another cigarette. “Look, I make a nice little living here. A bit of this, a bit of that. No trouble. I don’t have ten thousand dollars and I don’t shoot people. And I keep my nose to myself. You get all kinds here. Live and let live and you live longer. Isn’t that right, Use?”

  The girl looked up and smiled blankly.

  “If someone did have ten thousand dollars, what would he buy with it?” Jake said, switching tack.

  “In one go? I don’t know, I never had that much.” But he was intrigued now. “The big stuff, that’s more of a swap, like. Friend of mine got hold of a factory shipment-lovely cloth, parachute qual-ity-and the next thing you know he’s got trucks coming in from Denmark. Tinned ham. Now he’s got something. You can sell that anywhere. But no money till it hits the street, if you see what I mean. Cash? Antiques, maybe. But, see, I wouldn’t know one from another, so I steer clear of that.“

  “What else?”

  “Medicine. They’d pay cash for that. But that’s a dirty business, medicine. I won’t touch that.”

  Jake looked at him, fascinated. Ham but not penicillin, a new kind of hair-splitting.

  “He was carrying it with him, whatever it was,” Jake said. “No truckloads, not even a box. Something small enough to carry.”

  “Jewelry, then. Now that’s a specialty, of course,” Danny said, as if he were referring to one of his girls. “You have to know what you’re about.”

  “Would you ask around?”

  “I might. As a favor to Gunther, mind. Ah, here we go again,” he said, seeing the band come back on the stand. He poured Jake another drink, warming to the subject. “Small enough to carry? Not gold-too heavy. Paper maybe.”

  “What kind of paper?”

  The band had started in on “Elmer’s Tune,” causing a new rush to the dance floor. Jake felt his chair pushed from behind. A Russian maneuvered through with his hand stuck firmly on a girl’s behind. Another Russian now loomed over the table, smiling at Use and twirling his finger in the international sign language for dance.

  “Piss off, mate. Can’t you see the lady’s eating?”

  The Russian reared back, surprised.

  “He didn’t realize she was with you,” a voice behind them said in accented English. “Apologies.” Jake turned. “Ah, Mr. Geismar.”

  “General Sikorsky.”

  “Yes, an excellent memory. Excuse my friend. He thought—”

  “He’s a friend of yours?” Danny said to Jake. “Well, that’s all right, then. Use, give him a whirl, there’s a good girl.”

  “You dance?” she said to the Russian, getting up and taking him by the arm.

  “Thank you,” Sikorsky said. “Very kind.”

  “Don’t give it a thought,” Danny said, all geniality. “What about yourself? ”

  “Another time,” he said, looking at the other blonde. “Good to see you again, Mr. Geismar. A different sort of party.” He glanced toward the dance floor, where Use and the Russian were already locked together. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

  “Aladdin’s cave,” Jake said, trying to remember.

  “Yes. Perhaps we can discuss it again one day, if you’d like to visit our sector. It is not so lively as this, though. Good night.” He turned to Danny and made a little bow, preparing to move off. “My comrade thanks you for your help.”

  “Mind you bring her back,” Danny said, teasing.

  Sikorsky looked at him, then took out a wad of bills, peeled a few off, and dropped them next to Danny’s glass. “That should cover it,” he said, and walked away.

  Danny stared at the bills, stung, as if someone had slapped his face. Jake looked away, his eyes following Sikorsky across the room to the bar, where he was saying hello to Gunther’s friend.

  “It bleeding well doesn’t cover it,” Danny was saying. “Red bastards.”

  “What kind of paper?” Jake said, turning back.

  “What? Oh, all kinds. You ask me, what would you buy with ten thousand dollars, and it comes to me, I have. I buy paper. You know, deeds.”

  “You own property here?”

  “A cinema. That was the first. Now it’s flats. Of course, you want the right areas. But now a cinema, that’s always worth something, isn’t it?”

  “What happens when you go home?” Jake said, curious.

  “Home? No. I like it here. Lots of girls-they can’t do enough for you. And I’ve got my property. What have I go
t in London? Five quid a week and thank you very much? There’s nothing in London. You’ve got all the opportunity in the world right here.”

  Jake sat quietly for a minute, at a loss. Another Collier’s piece they’d never want, the cheeky private with a corner table at Ronny’s.

  “I doubt he was selling deeds,” he said finally.

  “Well, that’s just an example, isn’t it? Here, have one more,” he said, pouring, enjoying himself. “It’s single malt, not your blended.”

  He sipped some. “Lots of valuable things on paper. IDs. Discharge papers. Get you an honorable, if you like. Fudged, but who’s to know? Of course, the Germans are the ones for paper.”

  “ Persilscheins,” Jake said. “To wash away your sins.”

  “That’s right. You might get two thousand for one of those, if it’s good. Sell a few more and—” He stopped, putting down the glass. “Hang on a minute. I’ll tell you what has been going around. Haven’t seen one myself, of course, but I did hear-very good prices, too.”

  “What?”

  “Camp letters. Character witnesses. Some Jewish bloke writes that so-and-so was in the camp with him, or so-and-so tried to keep him out of the camp. Best sort of persilschein — cleans the record up right away.”

  “If it’s authentic.”

  “Well, the writer is. Of course, most won’t do it, you can understand that. But if you really need the money-to get out of the country, say, something like that-well, what’s one letter?”

  Jake stared at his glass, appalled. Exonerate your own murderer. Always something worse. “Christ,” he said, a sigh of disgust, almost inaudible under the noise of the band.

  Danny shifted in his seat, uncomfortable again, as if Jake had thrown more money on the table.

  “I don’t see it that way. You can’t hold a grudge in this life. I mean, look at me. Three years in that POW camp and it was hell, I can tell you. This’ll never be the same.” He touched his ear. “Deaf as a post. I picked that up there. But I picked up some German too, that’s the bright side, I didn’t know it would come in handy, and now that’s all over and done with and what’s the use of going on about it? You have to get on, that’s what I think.” For a wild moment, Jake heard Breimer’s voice, an unlikely echo.

  “It was a different kind of camp,” Jake said.

  “Let me tell you something, mate. When you spend three years POW, you tell me how different it was.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “That’s all right,” Danny said expansively. “No offense taken. Tell you the truth, I’m not much for camp letters myself. Stinks, really, after what they’ve been through. I mean, it’s not like they’re volunteering, you know what I mean? Need the money is what it is. Poor bleedersyou can see them here, they’ve still got those pj’s on, it tears you right up. So the letters-I won’t touch stuff like that. It’s taking advantage.“

  Jake looked at him, the man with boys in Hitler Youth uniforms. “Can you find out who’s peddling them?”

  “Why?”

  An appointment with a Public Safety lawyer. Maybe a connection after all. He thought of Bernie’s office, stacked high with paper.

  “A hunch. It’s not jewels-that doesn’t feel right. Let’s follow the paper trail.” He glanced at Danny’s dubious face. “I’d pay you, of course.”

  “Tell you what. Friend of Gunther’s. I’d like to oblige, as far as it goes. Let me poke around a bit. No promises, mind. Anything turns up, I’ll set you a price. You can’t ask fairer than that, can you?”

  “No.”

  “Hello, Rog,” Danny said, looking up at a British private. “All set?”

  “I’ve got the major outside.”

  “Right. That’s you, darling,” he said to the blonde, who put down her napkin and took out a lipstick. “Just as you are, love. No sense doing your mouth, given where it’s going. Off you go.”

  “ Wiedersehen,” she said politely to Jake, getting up and following the private.

  “Safe home,” Danny called after her. “Choice goods, that one. Enjoys it. Sure you don’t want a go?”

  “Can I ask you something? Why—” Jake said, then stopped, not sure how to ask it. “I mean, I thought all it took was a couple of cigarettes. So why—”

  “Well, some gents are shy, like. That’s how it started. See, I’m not shy, so I was in a way to make a few introductions. Some appreciate that. The convenience. Officers, they don’t want to pick something up off the street. You don’t know what you’re getting, do you? A little surprise for the wife. Hello, what’s this? Nasty. It’s the hygiene, really. I’ve got a doctor checks them. Decent chap. Takes care of any accidents too, if you know what I mean. Of course, the girls prefer it- saves wear and tear, all that walking about.”

  “Why only officers?”

  Danny smiled. “Got the money, for a start. But, you know, it’s really the girls. All the same, aren’t they? Looking for love. And a ticket out. London, why not? Anywhere but here. Now, an enlisted man isn’t going to do that, is he? You need an officer.”

  “And do they?”

  “What? Take them home? Naw. Quick suck and a poke is what they like. Still, you never know. I always tell the girls, look on the bright side. There’s always a chance. Just put your heart and soul into it and maybe something will come of it.”

  “And they believe you.”

  Danny shrugged. “They’re not whores, see. Nice girls, some of them, temporaries. They’re just trying to get by. You have to give them something to hope for.”

  “What do you tell the boys?”

  “That’s just a side,” Danny said. He ran his hand over his slick hair, embarrassed again. “It takes all kinds.”

  “Are they really Hitler Youth?”

  “ ‘Course. Viktor, anyway. He’s Use’s brother.”

  “Quite a family.”

  “Well, you know, I think he was that way. The others, I don’t know. Bit reluctant at first. But they’re glad of the money, and who’s to know, really? Viktor finds them-friends of his. As I say, it’s just a side. Here, watch this one. He’s good, he is. Regular Benny Goodman.”

  He pointed to the bandstand, where a clarinet player had stood up, licking his reed as he waited for the lead-in. When he started, he did play Goodman, “Memories of You,” the sad opening notes mellow as liquid. Another sound of home, the music so unexpectedly beautiful that it seemed a kind of reproach in the smoky room. On the dance floor couples drew closer, swaying instead of bouncing, as if the clarinet were charming them. The player swayed too, eyes closed, blotting out the bright, ugly room to let the music take him somewhere else.

  “Everything seems to bring…” The music of romance, not good times and quick gropes, a song for girls looking for love. Jake watched them move dreamily on the floor, heads leaning on uniformed shoulders, giving themselves something to hope for. At the tables people had grown quieter, pretending to watch the solo but really drawn by something else, the world they’d known before Ronny’s, brought back, close enough to touch, by the sentimental notes. “… memories of you.” Even here. There was Lena’s dress, across the floor, the same deep blue, her going-out dress. He remembered the way she’d brush the back as she got up, a quick touch to smooth out the wrinkles, so that it clung to her afterward, moving with her. On the front there’d been a patch of glitter going up to the shoulder, little fingers of bright sequins, like a sprinkling of stars. But wool, too warm for a summer’s night in a crowded room, and this one had a wet patch showing between the shoulder blades, stretched over a girl too big for it, with blond hair piled on top of her head like Betty Grable. Still, the same deep blue.

  When the band came in behind the clarinet, ending the solo, there was a restless stirring at the tables, a kind of relief to be out of the spell, back to just music.

  “What did I tell you?” Danny said, his eyes shiny, but Jake continued to watch the dress, the damp spot now covered by an American soldier’s hand. Fragebogen. Message b
oards. Why not here, dancing at Ronny’s? But the waist was too thick, bulging over the belt.

  Gunther was making his way steadily across the room, skirting the dancers. There was a sudden roar at the door as a large party swept in, looking for tables. “Memories of You” floated away.

  “Gunther, you old sod,” Danny said, standing up, a show of respect. “Take a pew.” He pulled out a chair. Gunther sat down and poured a drink.

  “Meet the general?” Jake said, nodding in Sikorsky’s direction.

  “I know the general. Sometimes a useful source.”

  “But not this time,” Jake said, reading his face.

  “Not yet.” He downed the glass and sat back. “So. You’ve had a good talk?”

  “Danny’s been telling me about his real estate. He’s a landlord.”

  “Yes. A kino for parachute silk,” Gunther said, shaking his head, amused.

  “Steady,” Danny said. “No tales out of school now.”

  Gunther, ignoring him, raised his glass. “You will dress half the women in Berlin. I salute you. Parachutes.”

  “You can’t beat it for quality,” Danny said.

  But silk hadn’t reached the dance floor yet, just the cheap cotton prints from the last wartime ration. Lena’s dress was gone from the floor, hidden somewhere among the crowded tables. The band had started a jazzy version of “Chicago.”

  “You have the actual report?” Gunther said.

  Jake pulled the flimsy from his breast pocket and watched Gunther look it over, sipping as he read.

  “A Colt pistol,” he said, nodding, a western fan. “M-1911.”

  “Is that special?”

  “No, very common. Forty-five-caliber. Very common.” He handed the paper back.

  “So now what?” Jake said.

  “Now we look for an American bullet. That changes everything.”

  “Why?”

  “Not why, Herr Geismar. Where. Potsdam. All along, it’s a problem. The Russians closed down the market. But there are two things in Potsdam. The market, but also the conference. With many Americans.”

  “He wasn’t at the conference.”

  “But perhaps at the compound in Babelsberg. Invited there. What could be more likely? All the Americans are there, even Truman. Just down the road from the conference site. On the same lake, in fact.” He looked pointedly at Jake. “He was found at the Cecilienhof, but was he shot there? The night before the conference? No one there, guards only?” He shook his head. “Bodies drift. An obvious point.”