“Did he now? What did he say?”
“One word. Hündin, I think. What does it mean, anyway?”
“Never mind.”
“I think he’s changed his mind about coming back to Athens with us.”
“I think you’re right. It looks like I am going to have to persuade him.”
“How?”
“I can be very persuasive when I want to be. Give me five minutes and then drive over to fetch us.”
I sat in the car for a moment, checked that Merten’s Walther was loaded, tucked it into my sling where it couldn’t be seen, and then went to have a quiet word with him. He didn’t yet know it but he was about to exchange his future for mine.
FIFTY-ONE
–
“Surely you’re not leaving us, Max?”
Merten looked momentarily apologetic. “Yes, I’m sorry about that. But I was afraid you’d think me very foolish and cowardly if I told you exactly why I was running out on you like this.”
“Try me.”
“It’s what Goethe says, that’s all: Precaution is better than cure. When you mentioned Jaco Kapantzi’s murder in the car back there I realized that under Greek law I might easily be charged as an accessory before and after the fact. Because I was there, on the train, as you now know. And I did nothing to prevent Alo Brunner from shooting that poor devil. Not that there was anything I could have done, of course. He’d have killed me, too, if I’d interfered. When Alo’s blood is up, he’s a fucking Fury. By the time I knew he was going to do it, he’d done it, if you see what I mean. Yes, he always was a bit crazy that way. Quick with a gun, or to hand out a beating. So I’ve decided to take my chances and go it alone. Don’t think I’m not grateful to you for coming to fetch me off that island, Bernie. I am. There’s no telling what might happen if Alo ever does find me. The first time he showed up on the boat in Piraeus I thought he was going to shoot me then, only his appetite for a share of the gold held him back. But I don’t much like the idea of walking into a Greek police station with my pants down. Think about it. Just for a minute, if you will. If the Greek state prosecutor is prepared to charge a damned interpreter with war crimes, then what chance is there for a German army captain to whom that interpreter sometimes reported? What’s to stop Meissner from saying he was only obeying my orders? You see, Bernie, I remember Arthur Meissner very well. It was me who got him his houses in Athens and in Salonika. He’s guilty only of being a bit greedy. A bit of larceny. That’s not exactly a crime against humanity. Find me a Greek who hasn’t got his fucking hand in the till, then and now. But somehow I can’t see my evidence playing well in court. I can easily imagine myself in the dock instead of Meissner and I’m already thinking your cop’s idea of protection might amount to the same kind as once practiced by the Gestapo. A night in the cells that turns into something altogether more permanent. By the way, have you seen Greek prisons? They’re almost as bad as the fucking hotels. The Grande Bretagne excepted, but then that’s virtually the Adlon. No, it was a nice idea, Bernie, but I’m afraid it simply wouldn’t work. They’d make jam out of me.”
“All right, Max. It’s your funeral.”
“Don’t worry about me, I can look after myself. I speak pretty good Greek. And I’ve more than enough money to get home to Ithaca. We’ll see each other back in Munich, perhaps. I’ll buy you a dinner at the Hofbräuhaus and we’ll have a good laugh about this one day.”
“Maybe.”
“Sure we will. If you’re good I’ll even let you stroke the golden fleece.”
“Just out of interest, why did you call Elli a bitch?”
“For the simple reason that she is a bitch. At least as far as I’m concerned. You’re too blind with love to see it. Haven’t you noticed the way she looks at me? It’s very different from the way she looks at you, my friend. Very different. She despises me.”
“What did you expect? It’s not like you planned to build a Greek orphanage with that gold. You and Brunner stole it for yourselves. And bitch or not, you should be glad she came, Max. Without her I’m not sure my arm would have permitted me to drive down here to save your neck.”
“What a romantic fool you are, Bernie. They may have different faces, but all women are the same. I thought you’d understand that by now. For your sake, I hope she’s worth it.”
Ignoring him, I took the ticket for the Orient Express out of my pocket, still hoping that I could get him back in the car with friendly persuasion—that my giving him his ticket might convince him that I was on the level.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting this back.”
“Keep it. You use it. Now that I’ve thought about it some more, Istanbul might not be such a good idea for me. Italy probably suits me better. I can get a ferry to Brindisi from Corinth and then a train to Bari, where I know another good scuba diver. Fellow from the Decima Flottiglia MAS, who trained Siegfried Witzel as a matter of fact. Of course, he’s Italian, not German. But nobody’s perfect.”
I believed very little of this; it was clear that Merten didn’t trust me. I could see that in his eyes. And now that I looked at them more closely I could see that they resembled two old snails on the glass of a very green aquarium. Slow and slimy and inhuman. Not that I blamed him for not trusting me; anyone who’d double-crossed as many friends as
