Читаем A good German полностью

She turned as they approached. “Look at the ducks,” she said. “Still here. Who feeds them, do you think?” A kind of apology for her outburst, simply by not mentioning it. “So, have you finished?”

“Finished?” Professor Brandt said, then peered at Jake. “What is it you want?”

Jake took the photograph of Tully out of his breast pocket. “Has this man been here? Have you seen him?”

“An American,” Professor Brandt said, looking at it. “No. Why? He’s looking for Emil too?”

“He may have been. He knew Emil in Frankfurt.”

“He’s police?” Professor Brandt said, so quickly that Jake looked up in surprise. What was it like to be watched for twelve years?

“He was. He’s dead.”

Professor Brandt stared at him. “And that’s why you want to see Emil. As a friend.”

“That’s right, as a friend.”

He looked at Lena. “It’s true? He’s not trying to arrest him?”

“Do you think I would help with that?” she said.

“No,” Jake said, answering for her, “but I’m worried. Two weeks is a long time to be missing in Germany these days. This is the last man who saw him, and he’s dead.”

“What are you saying? You think Emil-”

“No, I don’t think. I don’t want to see him end up the same way, either.” He paused, taking in Professor Brandt’s startled expression. “He may know something, that’s all. We need to find him. He hasn’t been to Lena’s. The only other place he’d go is to you.”

“No, not to me.”

“He did before.”

“Yes, and what did I say to him? That day with the SS,” he said, running the film again. ‘“Don’t come back.’” He looked away. “He won’t come here. Not now.”

“Well, if he does, you know where Lena is,” Jake said, putting the picture back.

“I sent him away,” Professor Brandt said, still in his own thoughts. “What else could I do? SS. I was right to do that.”

“Yes, you were right. You’re always right,” Lena said wearily, turning away. “Nowlook.”

“Lena-”

“Oh, no more. I’m tired of arguing. Always politics.”

“Not politics,” he said, shaking his head. “Not politics. You think it was politics, what they did?”

She held his eyes for a moment, then turned to Jake. “Let’s go.”

“You’ll come again?” Professor Brandt said, his voice suddenly tentative and old.

She went over and put her hand near his shoulder, then brushed the front of his suit as if she were about to adjust his tie, a gesture of unexpected gentleness. He stood straight, letting her smooth out the material, a substitute for an embrace. “I’ll press it for you next time,” she said. “Do you need anything? Food? Jake can get food.”

“Some coffee, perhaps,” he said, hesitant, reluctant to ask.

Lena gave his suit a final pat and moved away, not waiting for them to follow.

“I’ll walk a little now,” Professor Brandt said, then glanced toward Lena’s back. “She’s like a daughter to me.”

Jake simply nodded, not knowing what to say. Professor Brandt drew himself up, shoulders back, and put on his hat.

“Herr Geismar? If you find Emil-” He stopped, choosing his words carefully. “Be a friend to him, with the Americans. There is some trouble, I think. So help him. You’re surprised I ask that? This old German, so strict. But a child-it’s always there, in your heart. Even when they become-what they become. Even then.”

Jake looked at him, standing tall and alone in the muddy field. “Emil didn’t put people on trains. There’s a difference.”

Professor Brandt lifted his head toward the scorched building then turned back to Jake, lowering the brim of his hat. “You be the judge of that.”

When they got back to the jeep, Jake took a minute to look into Professor Brandt’s street, but no one was there, not even young Willi, keeping watch for cigarettes.

Nothing had changed at Frau Dzuris‘-the same dripping hallway, the same boiling potatoes, the same hollow-eyed children watching furtively from the bedroom.

“Lena, my god, it’s you. So you found her. Children, look who’s here, it’s Lena. Come.”

But it was Jake who drew their attention, pulling out chocolate bars, which they snatched up, tearing off the shiny Hershey wrappers before Frau Dzuris could stop them.

“Such manners. Children, what do you say?”

A mumbled thanks between bites.

“Come, sit. Oh, Eva will be sorry to miss you. She’s at church again. Every day, church. What are you praying for, I say, manna? Tell God to send potatoes.”

“She’s well, then? And your son?”

“Still in the east,” she said, dropping her voice. “I don’t know where. Maybe she prays for him. But there’s no God there. Not in Russia.”

Jake had expected to stay two minutes, a simple question, but now sat back at the table, giving way to the inevitable visit. It was a Berlin conversation, comparing survivor lists. Greta from downstairs. The block leader who chose the wrong shelter. Frau Dzuris’ son, safe from the army, then trapped at the Siemens plant and hauled off by the Russians.

“And Emil?” Frau Dzuris said with a sidelong glance at Jake.

“I don’t know. My parents are dead,” Lena said, changing the subject.

“A raid?”

“Yes, I just heard.”