broke down they were sunk, but spending more than a few minutes in Gorlitz, with Albert eye-wrestling anyone in uniform, seemed like an excellent way of committing suicide. When it came down to it, the car seemed worthier of trust than Alberts temperament.
Russell walked out to Unter den Linden, climbed into the Hanomag and headed east. If only Albert didn't look so damned Jewish! The boy could hardly wear a mask, though the lifelike Goebbels mask which one of the American correspondents had made for last years Halloween party would have been singularly appropriate. How could he hide the boys face? A cap over the eyes, perhaps. Collar turned up and the required blue scarf. A pair of glasses? None of it would help if Albert insisted on vibrating with rage.
And where was he going to pick him up? Not at the flat, that was for sure. Somewhere crowded? Only if it was somewhere a Jew didn't stick out like a sore thumb, and places like that were thin on the ground. And the police would be looking for hima Jew who knocked down a Gestapo officer with a table lamp was going to be high on their wanted list. Theyd probably taken his picture in Sachsenhausen, and now all the Orpo stations would have copies hanging on their walls.
He parked the car in the Wiesners street and went up. The girls were outstarting to say their goodbyesand their mother seemed exhausted by grief and worry. Russell told her about Alberts Monday appointment in Gorlitz, and his own role as chauffeur. Tell him to join the visa queue outside the British Embassy between twelve and oneas one Jew among several hundred he should be invisible. Ill walk by and collect him soon after one. He should be wearing workingmens clothes, nothing too smart. But a decent coat on top of them for the queue. People try to look their best for the Embassy.
I will tell him.
He must be there, Russell insisted. If hes not, thats it. We wont be given a second chance.
Hell be there.
And I think Ive got you a visa. You should be able to go with the girls next Thursday.
She looked as though she was having trouble believing it all. Well know by then? About Albert?
We should, he said. One way or the other.
RUSSELLS WEEKEND FOLLOWED THE FAMILIAR pattern, but thoughts of the week ahead kept hitting him from behind, sending his stomach into momentary freefall. It wasnt every week he delivered a fugitive from the Gestapo to the communist underground, went looking for military secrets in a dockside bar, and played some lethal form of hunt the parcel with the border police. The only time he could remember feeling like this was in the trenches, on those few occasions when hed been ordered over the top. What had he gotten himself into?
Paul was too distracted himself to notice his fathers distraction. On Saturday they did the rounds of Berlins best toy shops, so that Paul could provide Russell with some useful hints on which birthday presents to surprise him with. On Sunday they went to another away game, at Viktoria Berlins stadium in Steglitz, and came away delighted with a fortunate draw. Paul was still full of the trip to London, and eager to know when they could visit his grandmother in New York. Maybe this summer, Russell said, surprising himself. But why not? The money was there.
Effi noticed. On Saturday evening they went to a comedy theatre revue involving friends of hers, and he twice needed prodding to join in the applause. An hours dancing in one of the halls off Alexanderplatz took his mind off everything else, but on the drive home he almost drove through a red light at Potsdamerplatz.
Whats eating you? she asked.
As they drove along the southern edge of the Tiergarten he gave her the whole story of his dealings with Shchepkin and Borskaya, ending with the request to take out the documents, and his realization that he could use the situation to help the Wiesners. Seduced by my own cleverness, he admitted. And now I feel like digging myself a very deep hole and hiding in it.
Like a fox?
More like a rabbit.
She took his right hand and squeezed it.
Glancing to his right, he could see the worry in her face. I cant back out now, he said.
Of course not. Why dont we stop here? she added.
He pulled up under the trees, and turned to face her.
You couldn't go on the way you were, she said.
What do you mean?
She took his hand again. You know what I mean, she insisted.
And he did.
MONDAY WAS A RUSH. Effi insisted on coming to the Embassy with himeveryone says I look Jewish, so theyll think Im his sisterand then displayed her usual inability to be ready on time. Once Russell had finally gotten her to the car, he suddenly remembered, with another downward lurch of his stomach, that hed forgotten to tell Eva Wiesner about the blue scarf. A ten-minute search for something suitable in the KaDeWe on Wittenbergerplatz made them five minutes late, a derailed tram in Potsdamerplatz five minutes more. Russell had a mental picture of a Gestapo officer walking along beside the queue, then suddenly stopping and pointing at Albert.
They left the car on Dorotheenstrasse and walked the single block to the Unter den Linden. Across the wide, now-
They crossed Unter den Linden and walked toward the end of the queue. Albert was about ten from the back, standing close to the stone building on his right, but making no effort to conceal himself. When he saw Russell he simply walked out of the queue. This is hopeless, he said to no one in particular. Ill come back tomorrow.
We were looking for you, Russell said. The cars this way, he added, thinking that hed seen pantomimes with more convincing scripts. Several facial expressions in the queue offered unwelcome confirmation of this opinion.
But there was no sign of the audience that mattered. The three of them walked back to Dorotheenstrasse.
In the back, Russell told Albert, indicating the tight space behind the seats. He drove three blocks down Dorotheenstrasse, turned right onto the much busier Friedrichstrasse, and headed south toward Hallesches Tor. He dropped Effi off by the elevated station.
Be careful, she said, as she kissed him goodbye through the drivers window. Ill see you tonight.
I hope so, Russell thought. He glanced across at Albert, who was now sitting beside him. The boy looked about sixteen.
How old are you? he asked.
I was eighteen last month.
The age I was when I went to war, Russell thought. A tram swung in front of him, causing him to brake sharply. Concentrate, he told himself. An accident now really would be fatal.
They drove past Tempelhof as a small plane took off, then under the Ringbahn and on toward Mariendorf, the city growing thinner with each mile. A police car went past in the opposite direction, two plainclothes Kripo men chatting in the front seats, but that was all. Twenty minutes after leaving Dorotheenstrasse they were out on the lake-strewn Mittelmark, passing under a completed section of the orbital autobahn.
So far, so good, Russell thought.
My mother gave me the message from my father, Albert said, breaking the silence. What exactly did he say?
Russell repeated what he remembered.
They beat him badly, didn't they? Albert asked.
Yes, they did.
Albert fell silent again. They passed through Zossen, where a surfeit of signs pointed would-be visitors in the direction of General Staff HQ. The complex of buildings came into view, and Russell found himself wondering which maps the planners had on the tables that day. Poland, most likely, and all points east.
He wondered if the Soviets would put up a fight. Their German operation was hardly impressivea boy with
