Come for a drink?”
“Another time,” Jake said.
“Oh, it’s like that. Enjoy the film? Apart from yourself, that is.”
They passed through the door to the warm evening air.
“Sure. Make you homesick?” Jake said.
“Dear boy, that’s the England that never was. We’re the land of the common man now, haven’t you heard? Mr. Attlee insists. Of course, I’m common myself, so I don’t mind.”
“It still looks pretty cushy on film,” Jake said.
“Well, it would. Made before the war, you know. Couldn’t release it while the play was on and of course it ran forever, so they’re just now getting around to it. You see how young Rex looks.”
“The things you know,” Jake said. Another trick of chronology.
Brian lit a cigarette. “How are you getting on with your case? The chap in the boots.”
“I’m not. I’ve been distracted.”
Brian glanced at Lena. “Not by the conference, I gather. I never see you around at all. The thing is, you got me thinking a bit. About the luggage and all that. What occurred to me was, how did he get on the plane in the first place?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it was a scramble. You remember. Had to pull strings just to get on the damn thing.”
“So what strings did he pull?” Jake said, finishing for him.
“Something like that. There we were, packed in like sardines. The Honorable and everyone. And then one more. All very last-minute.
No bags, as if he hadn’t expected to go. More like he’d been summoned, if you see what I mean.“
But Jake had leaped ahead to something else-how had Emil managed it? No one just walked onto a plane, certainly not a German.
“I don’t suppose they found any travel orders?” Brian was saying.
“Not that I know of.”
“Of course, it may have been the old greased palm-I’ve done it myself. But if someone okayed it? I mean, if you’re so curious about him, it might be useful to know.”
“Yes,” Jake said. Who had okayed Emil?
“You never know with the army-they keep a record of everything except what’s useful. But there must have been some kind of manifest. Anyway, it’s just a thought.”
“Keep thinking for a minute,” Jake said. “How would a German get here?”
“How does anybody? Military transport-he’d have to hitch a ride. There isn’t any civilian transport. I supposed he could bicycle in, if he didn’t mind the Russians running him off the road. They do it for fun, I hear.”
“Yes,” Lena said. Brian looked at her, surprised that she’d been following the conversation.
“Anyone particular in mind?” he said to Jake.
“Just a friend of mine,” Jake said quickly, before Lena could interrupt. “He’s been due for over a week.”
“Well, there’s nothing to that. Do you have any idea what it’s like out there?” He swept his hand in a broad gesture to the dark space beyond the city. “Chaos. Absolute bloody chaos. Seen the autobahns? Refugees going this way and that. Poles going home. And good luck to them. Sleep anywhere you can. He’s probably in a hayloft somewhere, rubbing his feet.”
“A hayloft.”
“Well, a bit of color. I shouldn’t worry; he’ll turn up.”
“But if he flew—” Jake said, still thinking.
“A German? Need to pull some big strings for that. Anyway, he’d be here, wouldn’t he?”
Jake sighed. “Yes, he’d be here.” He looked at the thinning crowd as if Emil might suddenly appear, strolling down the Ku’damm.
“Well, I’ve got a drink waiting. Fraulein.” He nodded at Lena. “Mind you stay out of falling houses,” he said, winking at Jake. “Once lucky. Lovely how we won the game, wasn’t it?”
“Lovely,” Jake said, smiling.
“There’s a thing, by the way. What’s he up to, the Honorable?”
“Why would he be up to anything?”
“He’s still here. Now your average poobah, they’re in and out. Not that I blame them. But there’s the Honorable, lingering, lingering. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Jake looked at him. “Does it?”
“Me? No. Made Tommy Ottinger wonder, though. Says he’s really just a point man for American Dye.”
“And?”
“And Tommy’s going home. I hate to see a story go to waste. You might want to look into it-if you’ve got the time, that is.” Another quick glance at Lena.
“Tommy’s giving away stories now?”
“Well, you know Tommy. A few drinks and he’ll tell you anything. Strictly an American affair, of course, so no good to me. Anyway, there’s a tip. I have to say, I rather like the idea of catching the Honorable with his hand in the till.”
“His hand in what till?”
“Well, Tommy thought he might be up to some private reparations. Just a little something for American Dye. Which, to their way of thinking, is pretty good for the country too, so it’s patriotic looting, really. They talk their heads off at Potsdam about reparations and meanwhile they’re stripping the place clean.”
“I thought it was the Russians doing the stripping.”
“And not your clean-cut American boys. Football players one and all, if you believe the films. No, this is the game. The Russians don’t know what to take-just pack up the power plants and anything shiny and hope for the best. But the Allies-oh, we’re doing it too, God bless us-now, that’s something different. Experts, we’ve got. Tech units all over the country, just hauling off the good bits. Blueprints. Formulas. Research papers. Picking their brains, you might say. You were at Nordhausen. They got all the documents there-fourteen tons of paper, if you can believe it. And of course you can’t, because nobody can get the story-you get near it and poof, off it goes. Classified. Ghosts. There’s a thought-maybe we should give Madame Arcati a go, she might get somewhere.“
He stopped, his expression serious. “That’s what I’d look into, Jake. This is a real story, and no one’s got it- just a whiff once in a while. The Russians get fussed and bark at us-you kidnapped the engineers at Zeiss! — then of course they turn around and do the same thing. And on it goes. Until there’s nothing left to steal, I guess. Reparations. That’s the story I’d go after.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I don’t have the legs for it. Not anymore. Needs someone young who doesn’t mind a bit of trouble.”
“Why Breimer?” Jake said. “What makes you think he’s doing anything but making dumb speeches?”
“Well, the man at the stadium, for one thing. Remember him? Thick as thieves. He’s with one of the tech units.”
“How do you know?”
“I asked,” Brian said, raising an eyebrow.
Jake looked at him steadily, then grinned. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”
“Not much,” he said, returning the smile. “Well, I’m off. You’ve got a tired young lady wanting to go home and here I am, blathering on. Fraulein.” He nodded to Lena again, then turned to Jake. “Think about it, will you? Be nice to see you back at work again.”
Jake put his arm around Lena and headed them toward Olivaerplatz, away from the streetwalkers and cruising jeeps. There was moonlight, so that you could see the broken tops of buildings against the sky, spiky, like jagged pieces of gothic script.
“Is it true what he says? About the scientists? They want to pick Emil’s brain too?”
“That depends on what he knows,” he said, evasive, then nodded. Yes.
“Now them. Everybody wants to find Emil.”
“He must have flown,” Jake said, still thinking. “Nobody walks from Frankfurt. So either he hasn’t got here yet or he’s hiding somewhere.”
