Joseph Kanon - A Good German

“It’s British owned.”

“Really? That’s the stuff.”

“Anybody see you come here?”

“Well, what’s to that? At my age I’m expected to pay for it.” He glanced over. “No, no one. Jeep’s in the courtyard behind, by the way. I thought you might like it off the street. Tempting.”

“Thanks.”

“I take it that’s the husband,” he said, nodding toward the living room. “The one moping on the couch. What are the sleeping arrangements, or am I being prurient?”

“Thanks for that too. I owe you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll collect. Your stunt, my exclusive. Fair?”

Jake smiled.

“You made the papers,” Brian said, handing it to him. “At least, I assume it’s you. No names. Not much sense either.”

Jake opened it up. PEACE headlined in bold across the top, with the picture of Marines raising the flag on I wo Jima. At the bottom right, in smaller type, wwm begins? who fired first? an account of the Chancellery shoot-out as confusing as the crossfire, with the implication that everyone had been drunk.

“You can’t imagine the hullabaloo. Well, maybe you can. Russians have been stamping their feet, cross as anything. Formal notes, want a special Council session, the lot. Say they won’t march in the victory parade-there’s a loss. Want to tell me what really happened?”

“Believe it or not, this is what happened. Except the Russians weren’t drunk.”

“That would be a first.”

“And I’m not in it,” Jake said, finishing the piece.

“Strictly speaking, boyo, you weren’t. You were with me.”

“Is that what you told them?”

“Had to. No end of questions otherwise. You’re the most popular man in Berlin these days. Absolutely belle of the ball-everybody wants to dance with you. If they knew where you were. Damned if I do. Came down to the dining room with a lady, offered me a lift-I might have been a little the worse for wear-dropped me on the

Ku’damm for a nightcap, and that’s the last I saw you. As for this,“ he said, pointing to the paper, ”what I hear is there was a civilian in the middle of it. Nobody knows who. German, would be my guess. Of course, the Russians aren’t saying, but they’re not supposed to be missing anybody in the first place.“

“But I spoke English.”

“Americans think everyone does. You tell them who you were?”

“No. And I spoke German to the Russians. Sikorsky wouldn’t have had time to—”

“You see? Believe me, nobody’s thinking about anything except covering their behinds. Damned silly, when you think of it, going to the bunker for a drink. Wanted to dance on Hitler’s grave, I suppose. Very unwise, all things considered. The point is, you were seen leaving the Adlon with me. Witnesses. And if I don’t know you, who would? That is the way you wanted it, isn’t it?”

Jake smiled at him. “You don’t miss a trick.”

“Not when the story’s mine. Exclusive, remember? It doesn’t do to share with your gang. So fair’s fair? What’s it all about?”

“It’s yours, I promise. Just wait a little.”

“Not even a taste? What in god’s name were you and the general wagging about? The late general, I should say. There’s a service tomorrow, by the way-all the Allies. That awful band of theirs, no doubt. I suppose you won’t be sending a wreath.”

“That’s right,” Jake said, not really listening. “You don’t know.”

“No, I don’t know,” he said, imitating Jake’s voice. “Until you tell me.”

“No, I mean nobody knows. What he said to me. Nobody knows. It could have been anything.”

“But what did he say?”

“Let me think for a minute. It’s important. I need to work this out.”

“You don’t mind, then?” Brian said, pouring another drink. “Always so gripping to watch someone think.”

“Anything. I mean, suppose he had told me?”

“Told you what?”

Jake was quiet for a minute, sipping his scotch.

“Hey, Brian,” he said finally, still brooding. “I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Have a drink at the press camp. My treat.”

“And?”

“Talk loose. Have a few. You saw me and I’ve got hold of a story and wouldn’t cut you in on it so you’re annoyed.”

“So I would be. And the point is?”

“I want everybody to know that I’ve got something. It’s like the village post office there-it won’t take long to get around. Wait, even better. Got some paper?”

Brian took out a notebook and handed it to him, then watched as he wrote.

“Send this to Collier’s for me-here’s the cable address.”

Brian took it and read aloud. “‘Save space next issue big story scandal.’ And when you don’t send one? They won’t like that.”

“Well, I might. So will you. But chances are this won’t go out anyway. They censor the cables. Young Ron’ll take one look and start playing Chicken Little. He’ll be all over the place with it.”

“All over me, you mean.”

“Ask him what the fuss is all about-he’ll go shy on you. Then ask him who Tully was.”

“Someone you mentioned in passing when I saw you.”

“That’s right. I called it my Tully story.”

“And this is going to get you what, exactly?”

“The man who killed him. The other American.”

“The bird in the bush. You’re sure there is one.”

“Somebody tried to have me killed in Potsdam. It wasn’t Tully-he was already dead. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Steady. You don’t want any more excitement, not like this,” Brian said, indicating Jake’s shoulder. “Twice lucky. Third time—”

“Third time he comes to me. He’ll have to. Ever hear of a squeeze play?”

“And this will squeeze him out?” he said, holding the paper.

“Part of the way. The way it works is to get the Russians to do the rest. They think Emil’s loose. He is still loose. What if they had the chance to get him back? Sikorsky’s dead. Tully’s dead. Who else do they send to get him?”

“Especially if he can get you as well? I don’t like that. And how do you intend to manage this, may I ask?”

“Just go have the drink, okay? We’re almost there.”

“With loose talk. Which he’ll hear.”

“He’s heard everything else.”

“One of ours, then.”

“I don’t know. The only one I know it isn’t is you.”

“Very trusting of you.”

“No. It was an American bullet. You buy British,” Jake said, pointing to the bottle.

Brian folded the paper and pocketed it. “Speaking of which, you’ll want this back.” He brought a gun out of the pocket. “If you’re determined to keep asking for trouble.”

“Liz’s gun,” Jake said, taking it.

“Something of a rush at the Adlon, but I managed to pick it up. Just in case.”

“He killed her, you know. Sikorsky.”

“So that’s it?” Brian said. He got up to go. “It’s a fool’s game, getting even. It never turns out the way you expect.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then it’s a lot to do for a story.”

“How about getting away with murder? Is that enough?”

“Dear boy, people get away with murder all the time. You’ve only to look around you. Especially here. Years of it.”

“Then let’s stop it.”

“Now I do feel old. Nothing like the young for putting things right. Well, I’ll leave you to it. And this lovely scotch. Second thought, perhaps I won’t,” he said, picking up the bottle. “Never know how many rounds I’ll have to buy before the old tongue loosens up properly. On my expenses, too.”

“Thanks, Brian.”

“Well, Africa together-it has to count for something. No point in telling you to be careful, I suppose. You never were. Still, Russians. I should have thought you’d have your hands full sorting out your menage.” He nodded to the next room.