Pierre Frei - Berlin - A Novel

Curtis S. Chalford glanced out at the corridor. The visitors were waiting at the end of it. 'I'm busy. You see to it, Gertrud. Show them the card index and then get them out of here. We really do have better ways to spend our time.' He shut his office door.

Gertrud put two boxes of index cards on the table in the outside office. 'There you are, gentlemen. Hurry up, please. Mr Chalford's not in a very good temper. All the same — would you like a coffee?'

'No thank you, Frau Olsen,' said Dietrich, much to Miihlberger's disappointment. 'We don't want to strain Mr Chalford's temper unduly.' They went through the card index. Miihlberger proudly pointed to his own photograph, and Dietrich also recognized the picture of Ziesel the garbage truck driver. But he was out of contention as the murderer now.

The inspector pulled the card index of women employees towards him, although it was not really of any interest in this context. Under A he found Henriette von Aichborn's card. There was a black t after the name. 'The boss marked the other four with a cross too. He's very meticulous that way.' explained Gertrud Olsen, noticing Dietrich's surprise.

'Respectful sort of fellow.' said Miihlberger with heavy irony. 'Can we go now?'

'I'll drive you home.'

Chalford, watching from his office window, saw the wood-gas Opel lumber into motion. 'What is it, Gertrud?'

'Frau Weber is here.'

'Show her in.'

Jutta entered the office. 'Good morning, Mr Chalford. You sent for me?'

'Yes, it's some time since we saw each other.'

'Not since you hired me, in fact.'

'Sit down, please.' Chalford indicated a chair and got back behind his desk. 'I hear that Sergeant Panelli is very pleased with you. He praises you a lot, says you're a damned good cook, Frau Weber.' He stroked back his thin fair hair. 'I'm always happy when an arrangement I've made proves successful.' When he moved from English to German, his heavy American accent made his German seem clumsier than it really was. 'So what delicacy are you serving for lunch today?'

'Konigsberger Klopse.'

'Kounigsboorger Klapse,' he tried to say, and laughed at his own mispronunciation. 'What's that?'

'Something like your own meatballs. Served with caper sauce and boiled potatoes. This is the third time the boys have written it on the board where they can say what they'd like. It's all ready, and Sergeant Panelli is going to finish the cooking. I have a couple of days off.'

'Wonderful. Then I'm sure you'll have time to dine with me — this evening, perhaps?'

'Thank you so much for the invitation, but I'm going to see my parents in Kopenick.' She was glad that she didn't have to invent an excuse.

If he was disappointed he didn't show it. 'Frau Weber, it's because of your cooking skills that I asked to see you. Mr Gold of the State Department is looking for a first-class cook. In his position, he often has important guests to dinner. You'd have many privileges, but a good deal of overtime too. How about it?'

It would mean less time with John. 'I'm sure that's an interesting offer, Mr Chalford, but I'm happy where I am.'

'Well, I can't force you, Frau Weber.' He accompanied her to the stairs. 'Konigsberger Klopse,' he repeated with amusement.

'Well done. You said it without any accent at all that time,' she told him encouragingly.

She cycled home to fetch her overnight bag. On the stairs, she met a thin woman in a hat and coat, carrying a shabby suitcase. 'Hurry up, do,' she called to someone, without deigning to glance at Jutta. Jurgen Brandenburg came down the stairs with his white stick. He was wearing an ancient, ankle-length loden coat that made him look even shorter than he was, and a black Mao cap pulled well down over his ears. He looked pathetic and pitiable. He pushed past Jutta, and seemed about to say something, but decided against it.

In the apartment, an agitated Herr Konig greeted her. 'That Brandenburg! Just a conman! A fraud! Fighter pilot my foot! And he never won the Knight's Cross! His sister says their mother had measles when she was pregnant, and he was born blind. Fraulein Brandenburg tracked him down through the ration-card distribution centre. She came from Klein Beelzen to take him home so he can't do any more damage. He swindled a general's widow in Potsdam out of her last ring for an expensive operation to restore a war hero's sight. He'd been talking us into the same kind of thing. Ilse was on the point of sacrificing her platinum brooch for him. Well, now he can go back to weaving baskets under his sister's eye, the rogue. I always had a funny feeling about him, you know.'

'Of course you did, Herr Konig.' Jutta picked up her bag. 'Well, better luck with the next wearer of the Knight's Cross.'

John Ashburner was stowing a carton full of cans and bottles in the jeep, a present for Jutta's parents. 'Oh, please don't, John. They might feel it was charity.'

Shrugging, he carried the carton back into the kitchen. 'How did you do with Chalford?'

'He offered me a different job, but I said no. And he asked me out for a meal.'

'Oh, so he has his eye on you. What do you think of him?'

'He's a nice guy, but as a man he doesn't appeal to me at all.' She stood on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck from behind. Anyway, I already have one who wants to marry me. A girl doesn't let someone like that get away in a hurry.' she whispered in his ear.

Ashburner consulted the map. The Kopenick district was in the Soviet sector, and was best reached by driving right across the city. In these early post-war days, the borders between the four zones of occupation were of purely symbolic significance. Allies and Germans alike could move freely all over Berlin.

They drove through the ruinous landscape of the Mitte district. 'Until now going to see my parents was like a journey round the world.' Jutta leaned her head on his shoulder. 'I didn't know a tall good-looking American with a jeep then.'

'What are your parents like?'

'Mutti is hopelessly old-fashioned. "He's married," was the first thing she said when I told her about us.'

'What about your father?'

'He's unhappy with the way things are these days — but basically it's more himself he's unhappy with.'

A Nazi?'

She sat up. Are you marrying him or me? Still, if it sets your mind at rest, Vati is inclined to be nationalistic, but he was never a Nazi.'

Two burnt-out German tanks stood one on either side of the street. Ashburner was about to drive between them when a dirty brown jeep with a red star blocked the way. The captain braked hard. A man with a stubbly head and a lieutenant's shoulder straps got out of the jeep. He put his cap on and checked its angle in his rear mirror before approaching. 'Propusk: he demanded. Ashburner guessed that it meant 'Papers'. He saluted very correctly. 'Captain John Ashburner, United States Army. According to the agreement of our high commands, Allies in uniform don't have to produce papers.'

The Russian barked something as incomprehensible as it was unfriendly in tone, which helped neither side to get any further.

'Let's turn back, darling,' Jutta said quietly.

'I can't do that, if only on principle. I have a right to drive through freely. Let us pass, lieutenant.' He gestured to the Russian to move his vehicle out of the way. The man shouted something over his shoulder.

Three Red Army soldiers standing by the vehicle trod out their papyrossi and unslung their Kalashnikovs. The fourth man, who wore a blue mechanic's overalls and a worker's cap tilted at an angle. climbed out and approached at a leisurely pace. 'Do you understand German?' he asked.

'My name is Weber, and I'm a German myself.' said Jutta. 'Please can you explain to this man that he has no right to stop an American officer.'