The Good German (53 page)

“And you have. You’ve told me what I want to know. You don’t know.”

“But why should it matter at all? You’ve got Brandt. You didn’t care about the money. Revenge? You didn’t give a damn about Tully.”

“About him, no. About his death, yes. A man drives off and is killed. A victim of bad company? In this case, I must say, nothing could be more likely—a man like him, not a surprising end. But the money is still there. Not so likely. Unless, instead, it’s something else. The Americans. If they know about our arrangement. In that case, some action would need to be taken before—well, before anything else happened. So what does our Mr. Geismar want? I wonder. Is he working for them? Then I watch your face as you move your pieces up, your questions, and I know. It’s only you. When you play chess with a Russian, keep something in reserve, Mr. Geismar, a piece in the back row. Now, enough foolishness.”

He reached again for his hat. Jake gripped the edge of the cloth, as if the table itself, like everything else, was slipping away. Do something.

“Sit down,” Jake said.

Sikorsky glanced up sharply, bristling, not used to taking orders, then slowly moved his hand back.

“That’s better. I don’t play chess. And you’re not as good at reading faces as you think you are. What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you? A man who tried to kill me?”

“Is that all? If I wanted to kill you, I could do it here. I still could.”

“I doubt it. Not with witnesses.” He jerked his head toward Brian’s table. “An accident in the market, that’s more your line. Too bad you didn’t do it yourself. I’ll bet you’re a good shot.”

“Excellent,” Sikorsky said, exhaling smoke.

“But a lousy judge of character. Let’s watch your face now and see what comes up. Tully wasn’t going to deliver anything, he was playing you for a sap. He was going home at the end of the week—don’t bother, it’s true, I’ve seen his orders. He was just collecting a little something extra before he ran out on you.”

Sikorsky stared at him stonily, his face showing no reaction at all.

“Mm. I thought so. Want more? He also had an appointment with a Public Safety officer. That interest you? It should. He liked to collect twice. Maybe you weren’t the highest bidder.”

“For what?” Sikorsky said quietly.

“What he was going to use to get to the others at Kransberg. A little going-out-of-business sale. And you can take my word for it, it wasn’t Emil or his wife.”

“Why should I take your word for anything?”

“Because I know where he went that day and you don’t. You just told me so yourself.”

“Where?”

“Well, if I told you, then both of us would know. What would be the sense in that? This way, I can buy a little insurance—something to keep your finger off the trigger. I’m too valuable to shoot.”

Sikorsky stubbed out his cigarette, rubbing it back and forth. “What do you want?” he said finally.

Jake shook his head. “Your information isn’t good enough. You see,
you
brought the wrong thing to the table. I don’t want to see Emil. You can tell him goodbye yourself.”

“You don’t want to see him,” he said skeptically.

“Not especially. But his wife does. All I wanted was to make an arrangement, as a favor to her. No skin off your nose, as far as I could see. But no. You just want to prove what a tough guy you are. Steel. So nobody gets what he wants.” He paused, then looked up. “She wants to see him. That’s still the deal. If I were you, I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to move him—if you want us to have another little talk.”

There was a roar behind them as Brian, in his cups now, laughed at one of his own jokes.

“An old newspaperman’s trick,” Sikorsky said sarcastically. “This too, I think.”

“Suit yourself. I’d give it some thought. You know, suspicion’s a funny thing—it eats everything up. Even steel can rust. A Russian failing.” Now it was his turn to reach for his hat. “Anyway, thanks for the soup. When you change your mind, let me know.”

He stood up, so that Sikorsky was forced to rise as well, eyes still locked on his.

“It seems we’ve wasted our time, Mr. Geismar.”

“Not exactly. There was only one thing I wanted to know, and now I do.”

“One thing. Yet so many questions.”

“A newspaperman’s trick. Get people talking and they’ll usually tell you what you’re looking for.”

“Is that so?” Sikorsky said dryly. “And what have you learned?”

Jake leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “That it’s still going on. It didn’t end with Tully—you just want us to think so. That’s why you want me to see Emil—so I can tell everybody I saw him go and I know who his delivery boy was. Case closed. But it isn’t. You just told me so. Future deliveries. Emil had to disappear, no trace. Why? Tully gets killed. Game over? No, an inconvenience, just a hitch in the operation. Was he going home? Not the end of the world either. Why? Because he wasn’t working alone.” Jake leaned back. “It’s like Stalingrad, isn’t it? You’re still protecting your supply line. Tully wasn’t your partner, he was just one of those kids the Germans could pick off. Expendable. As long as the boats kept running. You don’t care who killed him, just whether we know how it all worked. And now here’s Geismar, sticking his nose in. He makes the connection to Tully, half the story. So let’s let him think he’s got it all, let’s even give him a goodbye interview. I told you you were a lousy judge of character. Do you think I’m going to stop? When this started, I thought I had a bad apple in the black market. Then it kept getting bigger and bigger. Not just Tully, not just Brandt. Not even just you. Now it’s a whole rotten barrel. With your supplier still in place, selling us out. That’s the story I want.”

Sikorsky stood still, expressionless. “If you live to write it.”

“Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” Jake said, nodding toward Sikorsky’s holster. “If you’re sure I’m the only one who knows. Are you?”

They stood facing each other for another second, not moving.

Jake put on his hat. “Checkmate.”

Sikorsky stared at him, then slowly raised his hand palm out in a stop sign. Then, resigned, he turned it down toward the table, gesturing to Jake to take his seat. “You are attracting attention.”

Sikorsky sat down, but even after Jake followed he said nothing, looking away toward the room, as if he were sifting through his options. Jake waited him out. How would he start? But Sikorsky

stayed silent, apparently at a loss, his gaze stuck over Jake’s shoulder. Then, unexpectedly, he raised his eyebrows and smiled oddly, no more than a tremor of his closed mouth.

“You’re a poor chess player, Mr. Geismar,” he said, still looking past Jake.

“Am I?”

“Very. Even a poor player knows not to move up the queen.”

Now the smile broadened, almost a smirk, so that Jake turned to follow it, feeling some new disturbance in the room.

She was standing near Brian’s table, letting him take her hand, hair pinned up, the palm of sequins glittering on the front of her dress, the whole room quiet, looking at her. In the startled second that followed, Jake saw everything in a rush, a jerky loop of film—Brian kissing her hand, offering a drink, the Russians getting up, Lena shaking her head politely, then finally her face coming toward him, bold and determined, flushed with its own daring, the same face that had jumped off the sailboat into the Havel. He felt himself rise, the room skidding around him, but in the panic of everything going wrong what struck him, and wouldn’t let go, was the sequins, that she had dressed for Emil.

“Frau Brandt,” Sikorsky said, moving a chair. “An opportune visit. You’ve come to see your husband?”

“Yes.”

“Good. He’ll be pleased. Mr. Geismar here has refused our invitation. But you, I think, may feel differently.”

“Refused?” she said to Jake.

“The general isn’t interested in a meeting. They’re taking Emil east tomorrow,” Jake said evenly.

“East? But then—” She halted, stopped by his glance.

“Yes,” Sikorsky said. “So you see, opportune. Of course, you would be welcome too. An honored guest of the state.”

“You mean he’s leaving?” She turned to Jake, glaring. “Did you know this?”

“A little surprise from the general. We were just discussing a different arrangement. A later departure date.”

“Oh,” she said, looking down, finally aware. “A later date.”

“Unnecessary now,” Sikorsky said.

“I thought he wouldn’t believe you,” she said weakly, still looking down at the table.

“You were correct. My apologies,” Sikorsky said to Jake. He poured some vodka and moved the glass to Lena. “A drink?”

She shook her head, biting her lower lip. “Leaving. So I won’t see him.”

“No, no. Dear lady, you can see him now. That’s what I’m telling you.” He turned to Jake, enjoying himself. “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he said smoothly.

Lena answered for him. “Yes. I want to see him. You can arrange that?”

Sikorsky nodded. “Come with me.”

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Jake said, moving his hand to cover hers. “You think I’m going to let her walk out of here with you?”

Sikorsky rolled his eyes. “Your friend is suspicious. Like a Russian,” he said, playing. “Calm yourself. We don’t go far. Upstairs. Then I’ll bring Frau Brandt back to you and we can finish our talk. An interesting conversation,” he said to Lena. “Mr. Geismar still has things to tell me.” He looked at Jake. “You’ll be the guarantee for her return.”

“Upstairs?” Jake said. “You mean he’s here?”

“I thought it better to keep him close. For his safety. And you see how convenient.”

“Had it all figured out, didn’t you?”

“Well, I did not expect Frau Brandt. Sometimes—”

“Then figure again. She doesn’t go. Not like this.”

Sikorsky sighed. “A pity. But it’s of no importance.”

Lena looked at Jake, then slipped her hand out from under his. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

“No, you won’t.”

“It’s my choice,” she said to him.

“As you say, Frau Brandt,” Sikorsky said. “Your choice. Have a drink, Mr. Geismar. We won’t be long.”

Jake looked from one to the other, cornered. Sikorsky moved his chair back.

“If she goes, I go with her.”

“You don’t think your presence would be intrusive?” Sikorsky said, amused.

“I won’t be watching them, just you. Try one move—”

Sikorsky waved his hand, brushing this away.

“All right,” Jake said, “then sit here nice and quiet while I tell Brian where we’re going. If we’re not back down in fifteen minutes, he’ll—”

“What? Bring in reinforcements? But you came alone.”

“You sure?” Jake said, standing.

“Oh yes,” Sikorsky said easily. “My men had instructions to inform me if you were followed. At the checkpoint.”

Jake stopped for a minute, taking this in. All figured out. And what else?

Sikorsky nodded toward the other table, where Brian was laughing. “A poor choice of hero.”

“Good enough to pull an alarm. I don’t intend to disappear without a trace. And you don’t want to make that kind of noise. Not you.”

“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.