“So I would be. And the point is?”
“I want everybody to know that I’ve got something. It’s like the village post office there-it won’t take long to get around. Wait, even better. Got some paper?”
Brian took out a notebook and handed it to him, then watched as he wrote.
“Send this to Collier’s for me-here’s the cable address.”
Brian took it and read aloud. “‘Save space next issue big story scandal.’ And when you don’t send one? They won’t like that.”
“Well, I might. So will you. But chances are this won’t go out anyway. They censor the cables. Young Ron’ll take one look and start playing Chicken Little. He’ll be all over the place with it.”
“All over me, you mean.”
“Ask him what the fuss is all about-he’ll go shy on you. Then ask him who Tully was.”
“Someone you mentioned in passing when I saw you.”
“That’s right. I called it my Tully story.”
“And this is going to get you what, exactly?”
“The man who killed him. The other American.”
“The bird in the bush. You’re sure there is one.”
“Somebody tried to have me killed in Potsdam. It wasn’t Tully-he was already dead. Yes, I’m sure.”
“Steady. You don’t want any more excitement, not like this,” Brian said, indicating Jake’s shoulder. “Twice lucky. Third time-”
“Third time he comes to me. He’ll have to. Ever hear of a squeeze play?”
“And this will squeeze him out?” he said, holding the paper.
“Part of the way. The way it works is to get the Russians to do the rest. They think Emil’s loose. He is still loose. What if they had the chance to get him back? Sikorsky’s dead. Tully’s dead. Who else do they send to get him?”
“Especially if he can get you as well? I don’t like that. And how do you intend to manage this, may I ask?”
“Just go have the drink, okay? We’re almost there.”
“With loose talk. Which he’ll hear.”
“He’s heard everything else.”
“One of ours, then.”
“I don’t know. The only one I know it isn’t is you.”
“Very trusting of you.”
“No. It was an American bullet. You buy British,” Jake said, pointing to the bottle.
Brian folded the paper and pocketed it. “Speaking of which, you’ll want this back.” He brought a gun out of the pocket. “If you’re determined to keep asking for trouble.”
“Liz’s gun,” Jake said, taking it.
“Something of a rush at the Adlon, but I managed to pick it up. Just in case.”
“He killed her, you know. Sikorsky.”
“So that’s it?” Brian said. He got up to go. “It’s a fool’s game, getting even. It never turns out the way you expect.”
“It’s not about that.”
“Then it’s a lot to do for a story.”
“How about getting away with murder? Is that enough?”
“Dear boy, people get away with murder all the time. You’ve only to look around you. Especially here. Years of it.”
“Then let’s stop it.”
“Now I do feel old. Nothing like the young for putting things right. Well, I’ll leave you to it. And this lovely scotch. Second thought, perhaps I won’t,” he said, picking up the bottle. “Never know how many rounds I’ll have to buy before the old tongue loosens up properly. On my expenses, too.”
“Thanks, Brian.”
“Well, Africa together-it has to count for something. No point in telling you to be careful, I suppose. You never were. Still, Russians. I should have thought you’d have your hands full sorting out your menage.” He nodded to the next room.
“It’ll sort itself out.”
“The young,” Brian said, sighing. “Not in my experience.”
It took Jake ten minutes to dress, his stiff arms fumbling with the buttons, even tying his shoes a small agony.
“You’re going out?” Lena said, looking up from the table where she and Erich were leafing through a magazine rescued from one of the girls. Life, pictures from another world. Emil sat on the couch, his face vacant, lost in himself.
“I won’t be long,” Jake said, starting toward her to kiss her goodbye, then stopping, even the most ordinary gesture somehow awkward now. Instead he rubbed Erich’s head.
“Rosen said to rest,” Lena said.
“I’m all right,” Jake said, feeling Emil watching him so that, like an intruder, he wanted to hurry out, away from them. “Don’t wait up,” he said to Erich, but taking them all in. Only Erich moved, giving him a little wave.
The street was a relief, the comforting anonymity of the dark. A soldier in a jeep. He drove out toward Kreuzberg, not even noticing the ruins. Even Berlin could become normal, a question of what you were used to.
He found Gunther playing solitaire, a half-full bottle on the table beside him, methodically laying out rows of cards like his columns of obvious points.
“A surprise visit,” Gunther said, not sounding surprised at all, barely looking up from the cards.
“I thought I’d bring you up to date,” Jake said, sitting down.
Gunther grunted, continuing to lay out cards as Jake told him about the Adlon, not even pausing when bullets hit the Chancellery steps.
“So once again you’re lucky,” he said when Jake finished. “And we still don’t know.”
“That’s why I’ve come. I have an assignment for you.”
“Leave me alone,” he said, turning over a card. Then he looked up. “What?”
“I want you to go to a funeral tomorrow.”
“Sikorsky’s?”
