The One from the Other

'I wish you wouldn't use that word,' said Henkell.

''Kraut'? What's wrong with it?'

'It's like me calling you a kike,' said Henkell. 'Or a yid.'

'Yeah, well, get used to it, buddy,' said Jacobs. 'The yids are in charge now. And you krauts will have to do what you're told.'

Henkell looked at me and, quite deliberately, as if to irritate the major, said, 'We're working on finding a cure for malaria.'

Jacobs sighed loudly.

'I thought there was a cure for that,' I said.

'No,' said Henkell. 'There are several treatments. Some of them are more effective than others. Quinine. Chloroquine. Atebrin. Proguanil. Some of them have rather unpleasant side effects. And of course, in time, the disease will become resistant to these drugs. No, when I say a cure, I mean something more than that.'

'Give him the keys to the safe, why don't you?' said Jacobs.

Henkell continued, hardly deterred by the Ami's obvious displeasure. 'We're working on a vaccine. Now that really would be something worthwhile, wouldn't you say so, Bernie?'

'I guess so.'

'Come and have a look.' Henkell ushered me through the first set of glass doors. Jacobs followed.

'We have two sets of glass doors to keep things extra warm in the lab. You may find you have to remove your jacket.' He closed the first set of glass doors before opening the second set. 'If I'm in here for any length of time, I usually wear just a tropical shirt. It really is quite tropical in here. Like a hothouse.'

As soon as the second set of doors was open, the heat hit me. Henkell had not exaggerated. It was like walking into a South American jungle. Jacobs had already started to sweat. I removed my jacket and rolled up my sleeves.

'Every year almost a million people die of malaria, Bernie,' said Henkell. 'A million.' He nodded at Jacobs. 'He just wants a vaccine to give to American soldiers before they go to whichever part of the world they intend to occupy next. Southeast Asia, possibly. Central America, for sure.'

'Why don't you write an article for the newspapers?' said Jacobs. 'Tell the whole goddamn world what we're up to here.'

'But Eric and I want to save lives,' said Henkell, ignoring Jacobs. 'This is his work as much as it is mine.' He took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt collar. 'Think of it, Bernie. The idea that Germans could do something that would save a million lives a year. That might go a long way to balancing the books for what Germany did during the war. Wouldn't you say so?'

'It might at that,' I admitted.

'A million lives saved every year,' said Henkell. 'Why, in six years, even the Jews might have forgiven us. And in twenty, perhaps the Russians, too.'

'He wants to give it to the Russians,' murmured Jacobs. 'Beautiful.'

'That's what drives us forward, Bernie.'

'To say nothing of all the money they'll make if they do manage to synthesize a vaccine,' said Jacobs. 'Millions of dollars.'

Henkell shook his head. 'He doesn't have the first idea of what really drives us,' he said. 'He's a bit of a cynic. Aren't you, Jonathan?'

'If you say so, kraut.'

I glanced around the hothouse laboratory. There were two work benches, one on either side of the room. One was home to a variety of scientific equipment, including several microscopes. On the other were ranged a dozen or so heated glass cases. Under a window looking out onto another part of the neat garden were three sinks. But it was the glass cases that drew my attention. Two of them were teeming with insect life. Even through the glass you could hear the whining sound of the many mosquitoes, like tiny opera singers trying to sustain a high note. It made my flesh creep just to look at them.

'Those are our VIPs,' said Henkell. 'The Culex pipen. The stagnant-water variety of mosquito and therefore the most dangerous, as it carries the disease. We try to breed our own in the lab. But from time to time we have to get new specimens sent all the way from Florida. The eggs and larvae are surprisingly resilient to the low temperatures of long-distance air travel. Fascinating, aren't they? That something so small can be so lethal. Which malaria is, of course. For most people, anyway. Studies I've seen show that it's nearly always fatal in children. But women are more resistant than men. Nobody knows why.'

I shuddered and stepped away from the glass case.

'He doesn't care for your little friends, Heinrich,' said Jacobs. 'And I can't say that I blame him. I hate the little bastards. I have nightmares that one of them will get out and bite me.'

'I'm sure they have more taste than that,' I said.

'Which is why we need more money. For better isolation chambers and handling facilities. An electron microscope. Specimen holders. New slide staining systems.' All of this was directed at Major Jacobs. 'To prevent just such an accident from happening.'

'We're working on it,' Jacobs said and yawned ostentatiously, as if he had heard all of this many times before. He took out a cigarette case and then seemed to think better of it under Henkell's disapproving eye. 'No smoking in the laboratory,' he murmured, slipping the cigarette case back into his pocket. 'Right.'

'You remembered,' said Henkell, smiling. 'We're making progress.'

'I hope so,' said Jacobs. 'I just wish you'd remember to keep a lid on all of this.' He had one eye on me when he said this. 'Like we agreed. This project is supposed to be a secret.' And he and Henkell began to argue again.

I turned my back on them and leaned over an old copy of Life magazine that was lying on the bench, next to a microscope. I flipped the pages, giving my English a little exercise. Americans looked so wholesome. Like another master race. I started to read an article titled 'The Battered Face of Germany.' There was a series of aerial pictures of what German towns and cities looked like after the RAF and U.S. 8th Air Force had finished. Mainz looked like a mud-brick village in Abyssinia. Julich, like someone had experimented with an early atomic bomb. It was enough to remind me of just how total had been our annihilation.

'It wouldn't matter so much,' Jacobs was saying, 'if you didn't leave papers and documents lying around. Things that are sensitive and secret.' And so saying he removed the magazine from my eyes and went through the double glass doors back into the office.

I followed him, full of curiosity. So did Henkell.

Standing in front of the desk, Jacobs fished a key chain out of his trouser pocket, unlocked a briefcase, and tossed the magazine inside. Then he locked it again. I wondered what was in that magazine. Nothing secret, surely. Every week Life magazine was sold all over the world, with a circulation in the millions. Unless they were using Life as a codebook. I'd heard that was the way things like that were done these days.

Henkell closed the glass doors carefully behind him and uttered a laugh. 'Now he just thinks you're crazy,' he said. 'Me, too, probably.'

'I don't give a damn what he thinks,' said Jacobs.

'Gentlemen,' I said. 'It's been interesting. But I think I ought to be going. It's a nice day and I could use some exercise. So if you don't mind, Heinrich, I'm going to try to walk back to the house.'

'It's four miles, Bernie,' said Henkell. 'Are you sure you're up to it?'

'I think so. And I'd like to try.'

'Why don't you take my car? Major Jacobs can drive me back when he and I have finished up here.'

'No, really,' I said. 'I'll be fine.'

'I'm sorry he was so rude,' said Henkell.

'Don't get sore,' Jacobs told him. 'It's nothing personal. He surprised me, turning up again like this, that's all. In my business, I don't like surprises. Next time we'll meet at the house. We'll have a drink. It'll be more relaxed that way. All right, Gunther?'

'Sure,' I said. 'We'll have a drink and then go and dig in the garden. Just like old times.'

'A German with a sense of humor,' said Jacobs. 'I like that.'