Читаем A good German полностью

“Real money,” Muller said quietly. “Not some lousy pension. You know what that’s like, waiting for a check every month? You spend your whole life just to get the rank and these new guys come in-”

“Spare me,” Jake said.

“That’s right,” Muller said, his mouth twisted. “You don’t need an explanation. You already know everything you want to know.”

Jake nodded. “That’s right. Everything.”

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Muller said. “Now what are you going to do? Call the MPs? You don’t really think I can let you do that, do you? Not now.”

“Ordinarily, no. But don’t get trigger-happy yet,” Jake said, glancing toward Muller’s hip again. “I’m a friend to the army, remember?”

Muller looked up. “Meaning?”

“Meaning nobody’s going to call anybody.”

“Then what? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to let you get away with murder.” Neither of them said anything for a moment, staring. Then Jake sat back. “That seems to be the general policy around here. If it’s useful to us. So now you’re going to be useful to me.”

“What do you want?” Muller said, still staring, not quite sure how to take this.

Jake tossed one of the forms over to him. “Your signature. First this one.”

Muller picked it up and looked it over, a bureaucrat’s reflex. Read before you sign, Tully’s inadvertent lesson. “Who’s Rosen?”

“A doctor. You’re giving him a visa for the States.”

“A German? I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can. In the national interest. Like the other scientists. This one’s even clean-no Nazi affiliations at all. He was in a camp. You fill in the classification code.” He handed over a pen. “Sign it.”

Muller took the pen. “I don’t understand,” he said, but when Jake didn’t answer, he leaned forward and scribbled in one of the boxes, then signed the bottom.

“Now this one.”

“Erich Geismar?” He s my son.

“Since when?”

“Since you signed this. U.S. citizen. Rosen’s taking him home.”

“A child? He’ll need proof of citizenship.”

“He has it,” Jake said, tossing him the last form. “Right here. Sign that too.”

“The law says-”

“You’re the law. You asked for proof and I gave it to you. It says so right here. Now sign off on it and it’s official. Sign it.”

Muller began writing. “What about the mother?” A clerk’s question in a consulate.

“She’s dead.”

“German?”

“But he’s American. MG just said so.”

When Muller was finished, Jake took the forms back and tore off the bottom carbons. “Thank you. You just did something decent for a change. Your copies where?”

Muller nodded to a box on Jeanie’s desk.

“Careful you don’t lose them. You’ll need the particulars, in case anybody wants to verify them with you. And you will verify them. Personally. If there’s any problem at all. Understood?”

Muller nodded. Jake stood up, folding the papers into his breast pocket. “Fine. Then that does it. Always useful to have a friend in the MG.”

“That’s all?”

“You mean am I going to put the bite on you for something else? No. I’m not Tully.” He patted his pocket. “You’re giving them a life. That seems a fair trade to me. I don’t particularly care what you do with yours.”

“But you know-”

“Well, that’s just it. You were right about one thing, you see. I can’t prove it.”

“Can’t prove it,” Muller said faintly.

“Oh, don’t get excited,” Jake said, catching Muller’s expression. “Don’t get any ideas either. I can’t prove it, but I can come close. CID must still have the bullet they took out of Tully. They could make a match. But maybe not. Guns have a way of disappearing. And I suppose I could track down the dispatcher you sent home. But you know something? I don’t care anymore. I have all the reparations I want. And you-well, I guess you’ll have some worried nights, and that’s fine with me too. So let’s just leave it there. But if anything goes wrong with these,” he said, touching his pocket again, “your luck runs out, understand? I can’t prove it in court, but I can come close enough for the army. I’d do it, too. Lots of mud, the kind of thing they don’t like at all. Maybe a dishonorable. The pension for sure. So just play ball and everybody walks away.”

“And that’s all?”

“Well, one more thing, now that you mention it. You can’t transfer yourself home, but make the request to Clay. Health reasons. You can’t stay here. The Russians don’t know you tipped Shaeffer. They think you’re still in business. And they can be persuasive too. That’s the last thing the MG needs-a worm in the barrel. They’ve got their hands full just trying to figure out what they’re doing here. Maybe they’ll even bring in somebody who can do the place some good. I doubt it, but maybe.” He stopped, looking down at the silver hair. “I thought that was you. But I guess something got in your way.”

“How do I know you’ll-”