Joseph Kanon - A Good German

“And what answer did you get?” Jake said quietly.

“None. No answer.” He stopped to remove his hat, then took out a handkerchief and patted his forehead. “No answer,” he said again. “You know, his mother died when he was born. So there were just the two of us. Just two. I was too strict maybe. Sometimes I think it was that. But he was no trouble-quiet. A wonderful mind. You could see it working when he played-one block after another, just so. Sometimes I would sit there just watching his mind.”

Jake glanced over at him, trying to imagine him without the collar, stretched out on a child’s floor in a jumble of building blocks.

“And later, of course, at the institute, a wonder. Everyone predicted great things, everyone. Instead, this.” He spread his hand, taking in the past along with the torn-up garden. “How? How could such a mind not see? How can you see only the blocks, nothing else? A missing piece. Like all the rest of them, some missing piece. Maybe they never had it. But Emil? A good German boy-so what happened? To be with them.”

“He came back for you at the end.”

“Yes, do you know how? With SS. Do you expect me to get in that car, I said, with them?”

“The SS came for you?”

“For me? No. Files. Even then, with the Russians here, they came to get files out-imagine it. To save themselves. Did they think we didn’t know what they did? How can you hide something like that? Foolishness. Then here. ‘It’s the only way,’ Emil said, ‘they have a car, they’ll take you.’” He switched voices. “‘Tell the old shit to hurry or we’ll shoot him too,’ they said. Drunk, I think, but they did that, shot people, even in those last days, when everything was lost. Good, I said, shoot the old shit. That will be one bullet less. ‘Don’t talk like that,‘ Emil says. ’Are you crazy?‘ You’re the crazy one, I said. The Russians will hang you if you’re with these swine. ’No, Spandau’s open, we can get to the west.‘ I’d rather be with the Russians than with scum, I said. Arguing, even then.“ The SS voice again. ”’Leave him. We don’t have time for this.‘ And of course it was true-you could hear the artillery fire everywhere. So they left. That’s the last I saw him, getting into a car with SS. My son.“ His voice grew faint and stopped, as if he were rewinding a spool of film in his head, the scene played out again.

“Trying to save you,” Jake said.

But Professor Brandt ignored him, retreating back to conversation. “How is it you know him?”

“Lena worked with me at Columbia.”

“The radio, yes, I remember. A long time ago.” He glanced toward Lena, waiting for them near the edge of the garden where the sluggish water of the Spree made its bend. “She doesn’t look well.”

“She’s been sick. She’s better now.”

Professor Brandt nodded. “So that’s why she hasn’t come. She used to, after the raids, to see if I was all right. The faithful Lena. I don’t think she told him.”

She turned as they approached. “Look at the ducks,” she said. “Still here. Who feeds them, do you think?” A kind of apology for her outburst, simply by not mentioning it. “So, have you finished?”

“Finished?” Professor Brandt said, then peered at Jake. “What is it you want?”

Jake took the photograph of Tully out of his breast pocket. “Has this man been here? Have you seen him?”

“An American,” Professor Brandt said, looking at it. “No. Why? He’s looking for Emil too?”

“He may have been. He knew Emil in Frankfurt.”

“He’s police?” Professor Brandt said, so quickly that Jake looked up in surprise. What was it like to be watched for twelve years?

“He was. He’s dead.”

Professor Brandt stared at him. “And that’s why you want to see Emil. As a friend.”

“That’s right, as a friend.”

He looked at Lena. “It’s true? He’s not trying to arrest him?”

“Do you think I would help with that?” she said.

“No,” Jake said, answering for her, “but I’m worried. Two weeks is a long time to be missing in Germany these days. This is the last man who saw him, and he’s dead.”

“What are you saying? You think Emil—”

“No, I don’t think. I don’t want to see him end up the same way, either.” He paused, taking in Professor Brandt’s startled expression. “He may know something, that’s all. We need to find him. He hasn’t been to Lena’s. The only other place he’d go is to you.”

“No, not to me.”

“He did before.”

“Yes, and what did I say to him? That day with the SS,” he said, running the film again. ‘“Don’t come back.’” He looked away. “He won’t come here. Not now.”

“Well, if he does, you know where Lena is,” Jake said, putting the picture back.

“I sent him away,” Professor Brandt said, still in his own thoughts. “What else could I do? SS. I was right to do that.”

“Yes, you were right. You’re always right,” Lena said wearily, turning away. “Nowlook.”

“Lena—”

“Oh, no more. I’m tired of arguing. Always politics.”

“Not politics,” he said, shaking his head. “Not politics. You think it was politics, what they did?”

She held his eyes for a moment, then turned to Jake. “Let’s go.”

“You’ll come again?” Professor Brandt said, his voice suddenly tentative and old.

She went over and put her hand near his shoulder, then brushed the front of his suit as if she were about to adjust his tie, a gesture of unexpected gentleness. He stood straight, letting her smooth out the material, a substitute for an embrace. “I’ll press it for you next time,” she said. “Do you need anything? Food? Jake can get food.”

“Some coffee, perhaps,” he said, hesitant, reluctant to ask.

Lena gave his suit a final pat and moved away, not waiting for them to follow.

“I’ll walk a little now,” Professor Brandt said, then glanced toward Lena’s back. “She’s like a daughter to me.”

Jake simply nodded, not knowing what to say. Professor Brandt drew himself up, shoulders back, and put on his hat.

“Herr Geismar? If you find Emil—” He stopped, choosing his words carefully. “Be a friend to him, with the Americans. There is some trouble, I think. So help him. You’re surprised I ask that? This old German, so strict. But a child-it’s always there, in your heart. Even when they become-what they become. Even then.”

Jake looked at him, standing tall and alone in the muddy field. “Emil didn’t put people on trains. There’s a difference.”

Professor Brandt lifted his head toward the scorched building then turned back to Jake, lowering the brim of his hat. “You be the judge of that.”

When they got back to the jeep, Jake took a minute to look into Professor Brandt’s street, but no one was there, not even young Willi, keeping watch for cigarettes.

Nothing had changed at Frau Dzuris‘-the same dripping hallway, the same boiling potatoes, the same hollow-eyed children watching furtively from the bedroom.

“Lena, my god, it’s you. So you found her. Children, look who’s here, it’s Lena. Come.”

But it was Jake who drew their attention, pulling out chocolate bars, which they snatched up, tearing off the shiny Hershey wrappers before Frau Dzuris could stop them.

“Such manners. Children, what do you say?”

A mumbled thanks between bites.

“Come, sit. Oh, Eva will be sorry to miss you. She’s at church again. Every day, church. What are you praying for, I say, manna? Tell God to send potatoes.”

“She’s well, then? And your son?”

“Still in the east,” she said, dropping her voice. “I don’t know where. Maybe she prays for him. But there’s no God there. Not in Russia.”