Joseph Kanon - A Good German

“As you wish. And give him your gun.” He smiled. “Or did you intend to use it upstairs?” He wagged his forefinger. “A little trust, Mr. Geismar. Please.” He pointed to the gun, holding his gaze until Jake took it out and put it on the table.

Lena sat up, rigid, as if it were something alive, waiting to strike, there all along under the words. Jake watched her as he moved to the other table to speak to Brian. Her shoulders were straight and tense, and he saw that she was finally frightened, but as he came back, leaving an open-mouthed Brian, she got up without a word. When Sikorsky led them out of the room, even the waiters stopped to watch, caught by the flash of sequins.

The walk down the hall felt like a forced march, quiet and plodding. When they started up the stairs, Lena grabbed his arm, as if she were about to trip.

“I didn’t know,” she said, almost whispering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ve ruined everything.”

“No, I’ll think of something,” he said in English. “He still wants to talk to me. Just see Emil and get out. Don’t wait.”

“But what about—”

“There’s enough light?” Sikorsky said from above.

“I’ll think of something,” he said, hushing her.

But what? The checkpoint, arranged. Emil ready to go. All the pieces moved into place. But Sikorsky wanted to talk, not sure what Jake knew. Ready for a bargaining chip, if Jake could think of one, something that might threaten the supply line. Where Tully had gone in his jeep that day, maybe, anything to play it out a little further, until Lena was safely away. Just one more move. Except Sikorsky always seemed one ahead.

There was no mistaking where they were going-a door with two guards in front carrying machine guns, menacing in an ordinary hotel corridor. The guards came to attention as Sikorsky approached, looking straight ahead as he swept past, ignoring them, and reached for the handle.

“Wait a minute,” Lena said, hesitating, flustered. “It’s just-so silly. I don’t know what to say.”

“Frau Brandt,” Sikorsky said, with almost comic exasperation, as if she were rummaging through her purse.

Lena took a breath. “Yes, all right.”

Sikorsky opened the door, letting her go first.

Emil was reading at a table near the window, jacketless, looking exactly the same, the only person Jake had seen in Germany who seemed not to have lost weight. The same dark hair and wire glasses, the same pale skin and drooping shoulders, all the same. When he turned and started to get up, too astonished to smile, his face turned soft. He gripped the back of the chair.

“Lena.”

For an instant, Jake could see him take in the good dress, the pile of blond hair, like the ghost of some old Adlon evening, his eyes moist, not yet ready to believe his happiness.

“Visitors, Herr Brandt,” Sikorsky said, but Emil seemed not to have heard him, moving toward her, still dazzled.

“They found you. I thought—” Then he was there, his face against her hair, his hand scarcely touching the back of her neck, as if a stronger physical contact would make her disappear. “How you look,” he said, his voice low and familiar. Jake felt a tiny nick, like a paper cut.

Lena moved back, his arm still around her, and reached up to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead. “You’re well?”

He nodded. “And now you’re here.”

She dropped her hand to his shoulder. “It’s just for a little while. I can’t stay.” She saw his confused face and took another step back, out of the embrace, then turned to Sikorsky. “Oh, I don’t know what to say. What have you told him?”

Emil finally looked at the others, stopping, dumbfounded, when he saw Jake, a different kind of ghost.

“Hello, Emil,” Jake said.

“Jacob?” he said, uncertain, almost sputtering.

Jake stepped closer so that they were literally head to head, the same height, and now he saw that Emil had changed after all, the eyes no longer just shortsighted and vague but hollow, the life behind them scraped away.

“I don’t understand,” Emil said.

“Mr. Geismar has brought Frau Brandt to visit,” Sikorsky said. “He was concerned that she be returned safely.”

“Returned?”

“She has decided to remain in Germany. A patriot,” he said dryly.

“Remain? But she’s my wife.” Emil turned back to Lena. “What does it mean?”

“You will have things to say to each other,” Sikorsky said, glancing at his watch. “So little time. Sit.” He indicated a frayed couch. “Mr. Geismar, come with me. These are private matters, you agree? It’s safe-the same room.” He nodded to an open connecting door.

“He’s staying with you?” Jake said.

“A suite. Convenient for guests.”

For the first time, Jake looked around the small sitting room, shabby from the war, a crack running up the wall, the couch covered with Emil’s rumpled sheet. Guards outside.

“I don’t understand,” Emil said again.

“They’re sending you east,” Lena said. “It was a chance to see you. Before it was too late. There-how else to say it?”

“East?”

She nodded. “And it’s because of me, I know it. You were safe there. And now-all this,” she said, her voice catching. “Oh, why did you leave? Why did you believe that man?”

Emil looked at her, shaken. “I wanted to believe him.”

“Yes, for me. Like before. That last week, to come to Berlin-I thought you were dead. My fault. All these things, for me.” She stopped, lowering her head. “Emil, I can’t.”

“You’re my wife,” he said numbly.

“No.” She put her hand gently on his arm. “No. We have to make an end.”

“An end?”

“Come,” Sikorsky said to Jake, suddenly embarrassed. “We have other matters.”

“Later.”

Sikorsky narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. “As you wish. In fact, it’s better. You can stay until he’s away. No one to pull the alarm. You can have the couch. You don’t mind? He says it’s not bad. Then we can talk as long as you like.”

“You said he was leaving tomorrow.”

“I lied. Tonight.” One step ahead.

“Talk about what?” Emil said, distracted. “Why is he here?”

“Why are you here, Mr. Geismar?” Sikorsky said playfully. “Would you like to explain?”

“Yes, why do you come with her?” Emil said.

But Jake didn’t hear him, his mind fixed instead on the hard eyes above Sikorsky’s smile. As long as you like. All night, waiting to hear something Jake didn’t know. Locked up here until he did. Worse than cornered-caught.

“But she leaves,” Jake said, looking directly at Sikorsky.

“Of course. That was the agreement.”

But why believe this either? He saw Lena being bundled onto a train with Emil, while he sat, helpless, in his Adlon cell, making up stories. I lied. They’d never let her go now.

Sikorsky put his finger on Jake’s chest, almost poking it. “A little trust, Mr. Geismar. We’ll give her to your friend. Then we’ll have a brandy. It loosens the tongue. You can tell me all about Lieutenant Tully.”

“Tully? You know Tully?” Emil said.

Before he could answer, there was an abrupt knock on the door, so unexpected that he jumped. Two Russians, chests half covered with medals, started talking to Sikorsky even before they were in the room. For a second Jake thought they’d come for Emil, but their attention was elsewhere, some crisis that involved quick spurts of Russian back and forth, a blur of hands, until Sikorsky, annoyed, waved them to the bedroom door. He glanced at his watch again.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to miss your explanation,” he said to Jake. “An interesting moment. Frau Brandt, there isn’t much time. I suggest you save the details for later.” He looked at Jake. “Send your husband a letter. Perhaps Mr. Geismar will help you with it.“ He raised his head and barked out something in Russian to the other room, evidently answering a question only he had understood. ”Of course, it’s better like this. The personal touch. But hurry, please. I’ll only be a moment-a small office matter, not so dramatic as yours.“ He turned to go.