Читаем A good German полностью

“Don’t give it a thought,” Danny said, all geniality. “What about yourself? ”

“Another time,” he said, looking at the other blonde. “Good to see you again, Mr. Geismar. A different sort of party.” He glanced toward the dance floor, where Use and the Russian were already locked together. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Aladdin’s cave,” Jake said, trying to remember.

“Yes. Perhaps we can discuss it again one day, if you’d like to visit our sector. It is not so lively as this, though. Good night.” He turned to Danny and made a little bow, preparing to move off. “My comrade thanks you for your help.”

“Mind you bring her back,” Danny said, teasing.

Sikorsky looked at him, then took out a wad of bills, peeled a few off, and dropped them next to Danny’s glass. “That should cover it,” he said, and walked away.

Danny stared at the bills, stung, as if someone had slapped his face. Jake looked away, his eyes following Sikorsky across the room to the bar, where he was saying hello to Gunther’s friend.

“It bleeding well doesn’t cover it,” Danny was saying. “Red bastards.”

“What kind of paper?” Jake said, turning back.

“What? Oh, all kinds. You ask me, what would you buy with ten thousand dollars, and it comes to me, I have. I buy paper. You know, deeds.”

“You own property here?”

“A cinema. That was the first. Now it’s flats. Of course, you want the right areas. But now a cinema, that’s always worth something, isn’t it?”

“What happens when you go home?” Jake said, curious.

“Home? No. I like it here. Lots of girls-they can’t do enough for you. And I’ve got my property. What have I got in London? Five quid a week and thank you very much? There’s nothing in London. You’ve got all the opportunity in the world right here.”

Jake sat quietly for a minute, at a loss. Another Collier’s piece they’d never want, the cheeky private with a corner table at Ronny’s.

“I doubt he was selling deeds,” he said finally.

“Well, that’s just an example, isn’t it? Here, have one more,” he said, pouring, enjoying himself. “It’s single malt, not your blended.”

He sipped some. “Lots of valuable things on paper. IDs. Discharge papers. Get you an honorable, if you like. Fudged, but who’s to know? Of course, the Germans are the ones for paper.”

“ Persilscheins,” Jake said. “To wash away your sins.”

“That’s right. You might get two thousand for one of those, if it’s good. Sell a few more and-” He stopped, putting down the glass. “Hang on a minute. I’ll tell you what has been going around. Haven’t seen one myself, of course, but I did hear-very good prices, too.”

“What?”

“Camp letters. Character witnesses. Some Jewish bloke writes that so-and-so was in the camp with him, or so-and-so tried to keep him out of the camp. Best sort of persilschein — cleans the record up right away.”

“If it’s authentic.”

“Well, the writer is. Of course, most won’t do it, you can understand that. But if you really need the money-to get out of the country, say, something like that-well, what’s one letter?”

Jake stared at his glass, appalled. Exonerate your own murderer. Always something worse. “Christ,” he said, a sigh of disgust, almost inaudible under the noise of the band.

Danny shifted in his seat, uncomfortable again, as if Jake had thrown more money on the table.

“I don’t see it that way. You can’t hold a grudge in this life. I mean, look at me. Three years in that POW camp and it was hell, I can tell you. This’ll never be the same.” He touched his ear. “Deaf as a post. I picked that up there. But I picked up some German too, that’s the bright side, I didn’t know it would come in handy, and now that’s all over and done with and what’s the use of going on about it? You have to get on, that’s what I think.” For a wild moment, Jake heard Breimer’s voice, an unlikely echo.

“It was a different kind of camp,” Jake said.

“Let me tell you something, mate. When you spend three years POW, you tell me how different it was.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“That’s all right,” Danny said expansively. “No offense taken. Tell you the truth, I’m not much for camp letters myself. Stinks, really, after what they’ve been through. I mean, it’s not like they’re volunteering, you know what I mean? Need the money is what it is. Poor bleedersyou can see them here, they’ve still got those pj’s on, it tears you right up. So the letters-I won’t touch stuff like that. It’s taking advantage.“

Jake looked at him, the man with boys in Hitler Youth uniforms. “Can you find out who’s peddling them?”

“Why?”

An appointment with a Public Safety lawyer. Maybe a connection after all. He thought of Bernie’s office, stacked high with paper.

“A hunch. It’s not jewels-that doesn’t feel right. Let’s follow the paper trail.” He glanced at Danny’s dubious face. “I’d pay you, of course.”

“Tell you what. Friend of Gunther’s. I’d like to oblige, as far as it goes. Let me poke around a bit. No promises, mind. Anything turns up, I’ll set you a price. You can’t ask fairer than that, can you?”

“No.”

“Hello, Rog,” Danny said, looking up at a British private. “All set?”