Читаем A good German полностью

“They will. I’m going to suggest it to them.” He turned from the map. “The problem is, we don’t know. I would feel better if we knew who to expect. Now we wait until the last minute-his surprise. You can set the trap, but a surprise is never safe. Logic is safe.”

“I know, follow the points. Find anything in the persilscheins?” Jake said, glancing at the table.

“No, nothing,” Gunther said glumly. “But there must be some point we’re missing. There is always a logic to a crime.”

“If we had the time to look for it. I’m out of leads. My last one died with Sikorsky.“

Gunther shook his head. “No, something else. There must be. I was thinking, you know, about Potsdam, that day in the market.”

“We know that was him.”

“Yes, but why then? It must be a point, the when. Something happened to make him strike then. Why not before? If we knew that-”

“You don’t give up, do you?” Jake said, impatient.

“That’s the way you solve a case, logic, not like this. Traps. Guns.” He waved his hand toward the bookshelf. “Wild West in Berlin. You know, we can still-”

“What? Wait for him to pick me off while you work it out? It’s too late for that now. We have to finish it before he tries again.”

“That’s the logic of war, Herr Geismar, not a police case.” Gunther moved away from the map.

“Well, I didn’t start it. Christ, all I wanted was a story.”

“Still, it’s as you say,” Gunther said, picking up his funeral tie from the table. “Once you begin, nothing matters but the finish.” He began threading it under his shirt collar, not bothering with a mirror. “Let’s hope you wink.”

“I’ve got a good deputy and the U.S. Army behind me. We’ll win. And after-”

Gunther grunted. “Yes, after.” He looked down at the tie, straightening the ends. “Then you have the peace.”

The afternoon at the flat was claustrophobic, and dinner worse. Lena had found some cabbage to go with the B-ration corned beef, and it sat on the plate, sodden, while they picked around it. Only Erich ate with any enthusiasm, his sharp Renate eyes moving from one sullen face to another, but even he was quiet, used perhaps to wordless meals. Emil had brightened earlier at the news that he’d be turned over tomorrow, then lapsed into an aggrieved sulk, spending most of the day lying on the couch with his arm over his eyes, like a prisoner with no yard privileges. The ersatz coffee was weak and bitter, merely an excuse to linger at the table, not worth drinking. They were all relieved when Rosen turned up, grateful for any sound louder than a tense clinking spoon.

“Look what Dorothee found for you,” he said to Erich, handing him a half-eaten bar of chocolate and smiling as the boy tore off the foil. “Not all at once.”

“You’re good to him,” Lena said. “Is she better?”

“Her mouth is still swollen,” he said. A slap two nights before from a drunken soldier. “Too swollen for chocolate, anyway.”

“Can I see her?” Erich said.

“It’s all right?” Rosen said to Lena and then, when she nodded, “Well, but remember, you must pretend she looks the same. Thank her for the chocolate and just say, Tm sorry you have a toothache.‘”

“I know, don’t notice the bruise.”

“That’s right,” Rosen said softly. “Don’t notice the bruise.”

“Can I do anything?” Lena said.

“She’s all right, just swollen. My assistant will fix her up,” he said, handing Erich the bag. “We won’t be long.”

“And that’s the life you give her,” Emil said to Jake when they’d gone. “Whores and Jews.”

“Be quiet,” Lena said. “You’ve no right to say such things.”

“No right? You’re my wife. Rosen,” he said dismissively. “How they stick together.”

“Stop it. Such talk. He doesn’t know about the boy.”

“They always know each other.”

Lena glanced at him, dismayed, then stood up and began to clear. “Our last evening,” she said, stacking the plates. “And how pleasant you make it. I wanted to have a nice dinner.”

“With my wife and her lover. Very nice.”

She held a plate for a second, stung, then dropped it on the stack. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s no place for a child here. I’ll take him to Hannelore’s tonight.”

“You can’t get back before the curfew,” Jake said.

“I’ll stay there. It’s no place for me either. You can listen to this nonsense. I’m tired.”

“You’re leaving?” Emil said, caught off-guard.

“Why not? With you like this. I’ll say goodbye here. I’m sorry for you. So hurt and angry-there’s no need to end this way. We should be happy for each other. You’ll go to the Americans. That’s the life you want. And I’ll-”

“You’ll stay with the whores.”

“Yes, I stay with the whores,” she said.

“You’ve got a nerve,” Jake said.

“It’s all right,” Lena said, shaking her head. “He doesn’t mean it. I know him.” She moved toward him. “Don’t I?” She lifted her hand to place it on his head, then looked at him and dropped it. “So angry. Look at your glasses, smeared again.” She took them off and wiped them on her skirt, familiar. “There, now you can see.”

“I see very well. How it is. What you’ve done,” he said to Jake.