“Take it easy, Jake,” Shaeffer said.

“I’ve seen a lot of men die. Years of them. They didn’t do it to keep things fat for I. G. Farben.”

Breimer flushed. “Just who the hell do you think you are, talking like that?”

“It’s just his mouth,” Shaeffer said.

“Who?” Jake said. “An American. I get to say no. That’s what it means. I’m saying no to you, got it? No.”

“Of all the piss-ant-”

“Drop it, Jake,” Shaeffer said, his voice like a hand on Jake’s shoulder, pulling him back.

Jake looked at him, suddenly embarrassed. “Enjoy your dinner,” he said, turning to the door.

But Breimer was on his feet now, almost knocking over the tray as he got up. “You think I don’t know how to deal with guys like you? You’re a dime a dozen. You don’t want to play ball, I’ll get your ass fired right out of here. Bunch of pinks running around. All mouth, that’s what you are. And they love it, the Russians. Aid and comfort to the enemy, that’s what you’re doing, and you don’t even know it.”

“Is that why they took a shot at me?” Jake said, turning back. “Funny thing about that, though. An American shot Tully, not Sikorsky. So why did Sikorsky want to kill me? Seems like he might have been doing a favor for someone on our side. The one we’re all on. Who knows? Maybe you.“ Breimer gaped at him. ”But somebody, one of ours. Makes you a little reluctant to take sides. All things considered.“

“Geismar? See me tomorrow,” Shaeffer said. “We’ll talk.”

“The answer’s still no.”

“You don’t want to be alone out there too long. Think about it.”

“That’s it?” Breimer said. “Man thumbs his nose at the U.S. government and just goes back to his girlfriend and that’s it?”

“He’ll be back,” Shaeffer said. “We’re all a little hot under the collar here.” He looked at Jake. “Sleep on it.”

“I’m only thumbing my nose at you,” Jake said to Breimer, ignoring Shaeffer. “Feels good, too-kind of a patriotic gesture.”

“This is a waste of time,” Breimer said abruptly to Shaeffer. “Go pick her up. She’ll do what she’s told.”

Jake put his hand on the door, then turned back, his voice icy. “Maybe we should be clear about one thing. You lay a hand on her, one hand, and you won’t know what hit you.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“Try this. There’s a big hole in a national magazine waiting for me to fill it. Maybe a father in Utica getting his boy’s gun. There’s a congressman not too busy to run an errand of mercy. Picture them together, it practically brings tears to your eyes. Or maybe the same congressman in Berlin. Not so nice. Lobbying for Nazi war criminals on your tax dollars. While our boys are still dying in the Pacific. Here’s the picture layout. Farben ran a factory at Auschwitz. We get a shot of the Farben board, then right next to it one of the camp. One with a lot of bodies stacked up. I’ll bet we can even find an old one, prewar, of the Farben boys shaking hands with their friends at American Dye. For all I know, you’re in it too. Then a nice one of you-one of Liz’s, she always wanted a credit in Collier’s. I figure FIAT owes her.”

“Jesus, Geismar,” Shaeffer said.

“That’s a lie,” Breimer said.

“But I can write it. I know how to do it. I’ve written lots of lies- for our side. I can fucking write it. And you can spend the next two years denying it. Now leave her alone.”

Breimer stood for a moment without breathing, his eyes fixed on Jake. When he spoke, his voice was hard, not even a trace of back home. “You just burned one hell of a bridge for some German pussy.”

Jake opened the door, then looked back over his shoulder at Shaeffer. “Thanks for the ammo. Tell you what, if I do find him, I’ll send up a flare.”

Shaeffer was looking down at the floor as if someone had made a mess, but raised his head as Jake walked out.

“Geismar?” he said. “Bring her in.”

Jake walked past the GI guard and the nurse coming down the hallway for the trays. Then he was out in Gelferstrasse again, even more alone than before. Contents — Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Gunther refused the job, agreeing, ironically, with Shaeffer.

“It would never work. He’s careful. And you know, this is not police work. This is-”

“I know what it is. I didn’t realize you were so choosy.”

“A question more of resources,” Gunther said blandly.

“We know he met Tally,” Jake said.

“So Vassily’s the paymaster, but who else did Tully meet? Not Herr Brandt, I think. With an American bullet.”

“The one leads to the other. And Sikorsky knows where Emil is.”

“Evidently. But you keep confusing the cases. Who is it exactly you wish to find, Herr Brandt or the man who killed Tully?”

“Both.”

Gunther looked at him. “Sikorsky won’t lead us to Herr Brandt, but he may lead us to the other. If he doesn’t suspect we know. You see, it’s a question of resources.”

“So what do you intend to do, just leave Emil with the Russians?”