Читаем A good German полностью

She tipped one to her head in a salute. “Anytime. Hey, Jackson,” she said, stopping him as he turned to go. “Don’t let it throw you. It s only-”

“It’s not what you think,” he said again.

She smiled. “Then stop grinning.”

“Ami?”

“Ear to ear.”

Was he? He went down the stairs, wondering if his face were really a flushed sign, giving them away. Slap-happy. All the intimacy reduced to a popular song lyric. But who cared?

He turned off the phonograph and finally had a cigarette, pacing now instead of lying in bed, the usual ritual turned around like everything else. How long since she’d come down the stairs dressed like that, wanting to? Outside, the wet leaves were gleaming in the new light, shiny as coins. Russian money. Tully’d had Russian money. His mind, still vague, was toying with it when he heard stamping at the door. Bernie, wiping his feet on the mat and shaking out an umbrella, a careful boy who practiced piano.

“Where the hell have you been?” he said, hurrying in. “I’ve been looking for you. For days.” A faint accusation.

“Working,” Jake said, the only legitimate excuse. Was he grinning?

“I’ve got other things to do, you know. Playing errand boy. And you take a powder,” Bernie said, his voice as raspy as an alarm clock.

“You heard from Frankfurt?” Jake said, waking to it.

“Plenty. We need to talk. You didn’t tell me there was a connection.” He put the files he’d been carrying on the piano, as if he were about to roll up his sleeves and start to work.

“Can it wait?” Jake said, still elsewhere.

Bernie stared at him, surprised.

“Okay,” Jake said, giving in, “what did they say?”

But Bernie was still staring, this time beyond him, to Lena coming down the stairs, her hair pinned back up, proper again, but the dress swaying with her, another entrance. She stopped at the door.

“Lena,” Jake said. “I want you to meet someone.” He turned to Bernie. “I found her. Bernie, this is Lena Brandt.”

Bernie kept staring, then nodded awkwardly, as embarrassed as Liz.

“We got caught in the rain,” Jake said, smiling.

Lena mumbled a polite hello. “We should go,” she said to Jake.

“In a minute. Bernie’s been helping me with a story.” He turned. “So what did they say?”

“It can wait,” Bernie said, still looking at Lena, flustered, as if he hadn’t seen a woman in weeks.

“No, it’s all right. What connection?” Curious now.

“We’ll talk later,” Bernie said, looking away.

“I won’t be here later.” Then, taking in his embarrassment, “It’s all right. Lena’s-with me. Come on, give. Any luck?”

Bernie nodded reluctantly. “Some,” he said, but he was looking at Lena. “We’ve located your husband.”

For a minute she stood still, then slumped to the piano bench, holding on to the edge.

“He’s not dead?” she said finally.

“No.”

“I thought he was dead.” Her voice a monotone. “Where is he?”

“Kransberg. At least he was.”

“It’s a prison?” she said, her voice still flat.

“A castle. Near Frankfurt. Not a prison, exactly. More like a guesthouse. For people we want to talk to. Dustbin.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, confused.

“That’s what they call it. There’s another near Paris-Ashcan. Dustbin’s where they’ve stashed the scientists. You know he was part of the rocket team?”

She shook her head. “He never talked to me about his work.”

“Really.”

She looked at him. “Never. I don’t know anything.”

“Then you’ll be interested,” Bernie said, his voice hard. “I was. He did the numbers. Trajectories. Fuel capacity. Everything but the casualties in London.”

“You blame him for that? There were casualties in Berlin too.”

Jake had stood following them as if he were at a tennis match and now looked at her, surprised at the strength of her return. A kindergarten covered with concrete slabs.

“Not from flying bombs,” Bernie said. “We didn’t have the benefit of his expertise.”

“And now you will,” she said, unexpectedly bitter. “In prison.” She got up and went over to the window. “Can I see him?”

Bernie nodded. “If we find him.”

The phrase shook Jake awake. “What do you mean?”

Bernie turned to him. “He’s missing. About two weeks now. Just up and left. It’s got them all foaming. Apparently he’s a particular favorite of von Braun’s,” he said, glancing toward Lena. “Can’t do without him. I made a routine query, and half of Frankfurt jumped down my throat. They seem to think he was coming to see you,” he said to Lena. “Von Braun, anyway. Says he tried it before. There they were, safe and sound down in Garmisch, waiting for the end, and he makes a beeline for Berlin to get his wife out before the Russians got here. Is that right?”

“He didn’t get me out,” Lena said quietly.

“But he was here?”

“Yes. He came for me-and his father. But it was too late. The Russians-” She glanced over to Jake. “He didn’t get through. I thought they killed him. Those last days-it was crazy, to take that risk.”

“Maybe it was worth it to him,” Bernie said. “Anyway, that’s what they think now. In fact, they’re looking for you.”

“Forme?”

“In case they’re right. They want him back.”

“Do they want to arrest me too?”