The Hunt

For a moment, Ingersoll wondered about his dispassionate response, for he felt no pity for the helpless old man. Certainly he despised the drunken, brawling brownshirt louts. They were animal-like in their stupidity. But these were extreme times and extreme measures were necessary. Sooner or later the Marxist Jews would get the message. While the rest of the Germans wallowed in debt, the Jews grew richer, hoarding their money, controlling the banks, supporting the Communists who wanted to destroy the economy.

Sooner or later they’ll figure it out, Ingersoll thought as he drove on. Sooner or later they would all close up shop and get the hell out of Germany. And the sooner the better.

She had long, dark hair which was tied with a bow in the back but her skin was fair, almost pale, and she had exquisite deep brown eyes. She could be Italian, he thought, or Spanish. She definitely was not German. She wore very little cheek rouge and a modest amount of lipstick, not the heavy theatrical makeup the German whores troweled on. Greek maybe. He had been driving around appraising the whores on the Street for almost an hour and he was getting impatient. He stopped the car and studied her as she eyed the men entering and leaving a bar called the Happy Club.

Twenty-three or four at best. Nice legs and a trim little ass. His groin tightened. He drove up beside her and stopped the car. She leaned over and looked in the window.

“Well, now ain’t you the fancy one,” she said. The accent was cockney. He was surprised but it was definitely cockney. Ingersoll was an expert on dialects and accents.

“And aren’t you the English one. London I’d guess.” “Well ain’t you the smart one, too, ducks. East End, actually.”

“What are you doing in Berlin?”

“Now what does it look like I’m doin’, dearie?”

“I mean, why here,” he said caustically. He could not deal with street whores pleasantly, as hard as he tried.

“Say, you’re an English toff, too, ain’t you?”

He ignored the question.

“What are you doing over here?” he repeated.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m on holiday and

I’ve run a bit short. And let me give you a hint, sweetie, I can show you a few tricks these German ladies ain’t never heard of. Why, I doubt they could imagine the kind o’ time I can show you.”

“And what is this extraordinary performance going to cost me . . . ducks,” he said with a sneer.

“Y’know, that’s a problem with me. I still haven’t worked out this business about marks .

“Tell me in pounds, I’ll work out the equation.”

“Gaw, you do have a way of talkin’, don’t you, luv?”

“The price,” he said coldly.

“Tell you what, we’ll start off with a massage. That’ll take yer edge off. Then you can really enjoy the rest of the show.”

He felt degraded and unclean but he was growing hard thinking about what would follow. This would be enjoyable, he thought.

“How much?” he demanded again.

“Ten pounds and the massage is free.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Now look ‘ere

“You never got more than a flyer in your life, dearie. I’ll pay you sever-fifty for the night.”

Negotiating was part of it, part of the compulsion.

“Aw, now, I gets twenty fer the night, you know that’s fair. Seven-fifty for one trip.”

“Ten for the night.”

“‘Ere now,” she whined, “give a girl a break, whyn’t ya? Don’t have to be such a tough one. Make it fifteen and throw in a smile.”

“Twelve-fifty. You can forgo the massage and I’ll forgo the smile.”

“You’ll be sorry about the massage.”

“Get in the car.”

He was a weird one, she thought. Usually her parties wanted to get right to it. This one had called up a fine dinner, then ordered her to take a bath, had given her fresh clothes and even a bottle of perfume. He wasn’t in any rush. So here she was in a suite in the fanciest hotel in town, staring at herself in the full-length mirror. The dress was Victorian, draped to the floor. The black corset underneath squeezed and shoved her breasts until they bulged over the top of the dress. A garter belt supported the black hose he had given her.

I look like I just came from the theater, she thought to herself as she dabbed the perfume behind her ears and knees and in the crook of her elbow.

She walked back into the bedroom and stopped in surprise. The older gentleman was gone. In his place a younger man sat on the sofa in the opposite corner of the room. He had short blond hair, was clean shaven and was wearing a black mask that covered the upper part of his face down to his lower lip.