"I haven't noticed very much of that"
"It doesn't have to be noticeable. Visible adoration is like a slobbering bulldog. My adoration takes the form of distraction, unreasoning hate, and plain obstinacy. You've turned me all topsy-turvy."
Her expression changed. "You poor thing," she said. "I can't take you up to my place. The lady next door would faint. And when she came to, she'd listen at the door."
I'd have given anything to be with her, and yet I was suddenly glad it was impossible. I held her by the shoulders. "We have so much time," she said. "Tomorrow, the day after, and the day after, weeks and months, and yet with this one botched evening we feel that we've lost a lifetime."
"As far as I'm concerned," I said, "you're still wearing that wonderful tiara. Again, I mean. Not so much at Lüchow's. Then it was lusterless lead."
She laughed. "Did you think I was unbearable?"
"Yes."
"Same here. We'll never do that sort of thing again. We're too close to hate."
"Isn't it always like that?"
"Yes, thank God. What a syrupy life it would be otherwise!"
It seemed to me that the world could do nicely with a bit more syrup, but I didn't say so. "Honey is better," I said. "You smell like honey. Today you've been good and bad and good again, and you smell like honey."
She pulled me into the doorway. "Kiss me," she murmured. "And love me. I need plenty of love. And now beat it. Beat it or I'll rip my dress off."
"Go ahead. Nobody'll see us here."
She shut the door behind me. I walked slowly through the sultry night to the subway station. The train came roaring out of the darkness. The car was almost empty. An elderly woman was sitting in one corner. Obliquely across from her sat a man. I settled myself in the middle of the car.
"You pig!" the woman suddenly screamed. "You dirty pig!"
She stood up and rushed over to me. "You saw itl You're a witness! He can't get away with it. You're my witness!"
"Witness? To what?"
"Don't play dumb! You saw the stinker. Exhibiting his slimy no-good prick!"
"What!"
"You're my witness. I'm going to have him attested. Police Police!"
The man arose and came over to us slowly and deliberately. "My dear lady, you're dreaming. You fell asleep and you dreamed it. You better be careful who you insult or I'll call the police."
"What's that? You bastard!"
"Take a good look at me. What do you see? A happily married man. A family man. The police would laugh at you."
"I've got a witness." And, turning to me like a fighting fury, "You're my witness!"
"Me?"
I had been in America long enough toi know that the best way to keep healthy is to see nothing. Then you won't be shot by gangsters or arrested as an accomplice. It's cowardly, but in my situation I couldn't afford much courage. Besides, I really hadn't seen anything.
"You see?" the man gloated, revealing a set of bad teeth. 'It's hysteria. The police know all about it. They don't think much of hysterical women. Just watch your step or they'll pull you in for defamation of character and fine you. Can you afford it? I've a good notion to call the police myself. This gentleman hasn't seen a thing; he's not your witness, he's mine. He can testify that you made it all up!" He spoke fast, making chattering sounds like an angry squirrel.
The woman moved her lips but no words came out "Behind his paper," she said finally. "Pretending to be reading the paper, the stinker! You must have seen him!"
"I can't help you," I said. "I didn't see a thing."
The man grinned. "There you have it, lady. Just watch your step. You're lucky I'm a good-natured man."
The woman moved her lips again as though chewing inaudible words. "You're both stinkers!" she said finally.
The train pulled into a deserted station. The doors opened. The woman spat and got out. The man was still making chattering sounds. "Now you can fuck each other!" the woman called out to us. The automatic doors closed. The man mopped his forehead with a dirty handkerchief. "Women, women!" he muttered. Then he turned to me. "Thank you, sir."
"Shut up!" I said.
XVIII
Kahn asked me to come along. "It's a raid," he explained. "The victim is a certain Hirsch."
"The one who swindled Dr. Gräfenheim?"
"That's the man," said Kahn grimly. "The one who claims he never received anything from Gräfenheim. That's why it's a raid. If Gräfenheim had a receipt, a lawyer could handle it. Now he's run out of money. We've got to help him or he'll have to stop studying. He wrote to Hirsch and received no answer. He even called once in person. Hirsch threatened to have him prosecuted for blackmail if he ever came back."
"How do you know all this?"
"From Betty."
"Does Gräfenheim know of your plan?"
Kahn bared his teeth. "No," he said, laughing. "He'd be outside Hirsch's door, barring the way. He's scared to death."
"Does Hirsch know we're coming?"
Kahn nodded. "I've prepared him. Two phone calls."
"He'll throw us out Or he won't be home."
Kahn bared his teeth again. You might have called it a laugh, but I wouldn't have cared to be up against him. The whole man had changed. He walked faster, with longer steps, and his face had grown tense. That's how he must have looked in France, I thought
"He'll be home."
"With his lawyer, to threaten us with a blackmail suit"
"I don't think so," said Kahn, and stopped still. "This is where the stinker lives. Pretty nice, eh?"
It was an apartment house on Fifty-fourth Street Red carpets, steel engravings on the walls, doorman dressed like an admiral, paneled elevator. "Fifteenth floor," said Kahn. "Hirsch."
We shot upward "I don't think hell have a lawyer with him," said Kahn. "I threatened him with new documents. Since he knows what he's done, he'll want to see them; he's not an American citizen yet, and there must still be a bit of the good old refugee's fear in him. Hell want to know what's cooking before taking a lawyer into his confidence."
He rang. A maid opened and showed us into a drawing room furnished with copies of Louis Quinze chairs, some of them gilded. "Mr. Hirsch will be with you in a moment"
Mr. Hirsch seemed to be in his fifties, a stout man of medium height. A German shepherd dog followed at his heels. Kahn smiled at the sight. "The last time I saw one of those, Herr Hirsch, it was with the Gestapo. They were used for man hunts."
"Quiet, Harro!" Hirsch stroked the dog's head. "You wished to speak to me. You didn't tell me there would be two of you. I haven't got much time."
"This is Mr. Ross. I won't keep you very long, Herr Hirsch. We've come in behalf of Dr. Gräfenheim. He's sick, he has no money, and he's going to have to drop his studies. You know him, I believe?"
No answer. Hirsch stroked the dog, who growled softly.
"You know him, all right," said Kahn. "I don't know whether you know me. There are lots of Kahns, just as there are lots of Hirsches. I'm Gestapo Kahn. Maybe you've heard of me. I spent a good deal of my time in France duping the Gestapo. As you can imagine, Herr Hirsch, no kid gloves were worn on either side. What I'm getting at is that the protection of a German shepherd would have made me laugh. It still makes me laugh. Before your animal so much as touched me, Herr Hirsch, he'd be dead. And you, too, in all likelihood. But we're not interested in hurting either of you. We've come to collect money for Dr. Gräfenheim. I assume that you wish to help him. How much are you prepared to contribute?"
Hirsch stared at Kahn. "Why should I?"
"For a number of reasons. One is known as compassion."
Hirsch seemed to be chewing his cud for a time. Then he drew a brown alligator billfold from his pocket and took out two bills. "Here's twenty dollars. I can't give you any more. Too many people come to me with such troubles. If a hundred refugees give you comparable sums, you'll have enough to see Dr. Gräfenheim through his studies."
I expected Kahn to throw the money back at him, but h
e took it and put it in his pocket "Very well, Herr Hirsch," he said. "Now all we need from you is another nine hundred and eighty dollars. That's about what Dr. Gräfenheim needs if he lives very modestly, without smoking or drinking."
"You're joking. I'm sorry, I have no time. . . ."
"Don't say that, Herr Hirsch. You have plenty of time. And don't tell me your lawyer is sitting in the next room, because he isn't. I believe you'll be interested in what I have to tell you. You're not an American citizen yet but hope to become one next year. You can't afford any black marks against you. The United States authorities are very particular about these things. My friend Ross here is a well-known journalist. We would like to protect you from such a possibility."
"What would you say to my notifying the police?" Hirsch asked.
"I wouldn't advise it. We'd simply hand our documents over to them."
"Documents. Blackmail is a very serious offense in this country. And now get out!"
Kahn sat down in one of the gilt chairs. "You thought you were being very clever, Hirsch," he said in a changed tone. "You weren't. You should have given Gräfenheim his money. Here in my pocket I have a petition to the immigration authorities signed by a hundred refugees requesting that you be refused American citizenship. Here is another petition to the same effect, signed by six persons, and attesting your collaboration with the Gestapo in Germany; it tells why you were able to take more money out of Germany than other refugees and even gives the name of the Nazi who brought your money to Switzerland for you. Further, I have here a newspaper clipping from Lyons, telling the story of the Jew Hirsch who under questioning by the Gestapo revealed the names of two fugitives who were both shot immediately afterward. Don't protest, Herr Hirsch. It may not have been you, but I'm ready to say it was."
"What?"
"I'll testify that it was you. Everybody here knows what I did in France. They'll believe me sooner than you."
Hirsch stood open-mouthed. "You'd give false evidence?"
"False perhaps from the standpoint of civil law, but sanctioned by Biblical law, the law of our forefathers, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. You ruined Gräfenheim; we'll ruin you. It makes no difference to us whether it's true or not. I've told you that I learned something from my experience with the Nazis."
"And you claim to be a Jew?"
"Yes, I have that much in common with you, I'm ashamed to say."
"And you'd be willing to persecute a Jew?"
For a moment Kahn was flabbergasted. "Yes," he said finally. "I told you that I've learned from the Gestapo."
"The American police . . ."
"We've learned from the American police, too," Kahn interrupted. "But we don't even need the police. The papers in my pocket are enough to take care of you. I don't insist on sending you to jail. An internment camp will be good enough."
Hirsch raised his hand. "It will take a better man than you to do that, Herr Kahn. And better proofs of your false accusations."
"Think so?" said Kahn. "In wartime? For an alleged refugee born in Germany? They don't have to convict you of anything to intern you. Suspicion is regarded as reason enough. And even if they don't, what about your citizenship? When in doubt, they turn you down."
Hirsch clutched at his dog's collar. "What about you?" he said in an undertone. "Suppose they got wind of this little incident Where would you stand? Blackmail, false accusations . . ."
"I know all that," said Kahn, "and I couldn't care less. You're a scoundrel with dreams of respectability. I don't give a damn about respectability, or even about the comfort and security that mean so much to people like you. Even in France I didn't care. Do you think I could have done what I did if I cared? In short, I'm a desperado. And get this straight, Hirsch, if you do make trouble for me in any way, I won't go to the police. Ill take care of you myself. And it won't be the first time. But why all these dramatics? I'm not out for your blood. I'm only asking you to pay back a small part of the money you owe."
Again Hirsch seemed to be chewing silently. "I haven't any money here," he said finally.
"I'll take a check."
Hirsch suddenly released the dog. "Go lie down, Harro!" He opened a door, and the dog disappeared. Hirsch closed the door behind him.
"You know I can't give you a check," said Hirsch. "Ill pay cash."
I hadn't expected him to give in so quickly. Maybe Kahn had been right: the anonymous terror common to refugees must have joined forces with Hirsch's guilty conscience to shatter his morale.
"I'll be back for the cash tomorrow," said Kahn.
"And the papers?"
"I'll destroy them tomorrow before your eyes."
"I'll only give you the money in exchange for the papers."
Kahn shook his head. "And let you know the names of all the people who are prepared to testify against you? Oh nol"
"But how do I know the papers are genuine?"
"Because I say so."
Hirsch chewed some more in silence. "All right," he said finally. "Tomorrow at the same time." Kahn stood up from his gilt chair.
Hirsch nodded. He was bathed in sweat "My son is sick," he whispered. "My only son!, And you . . . you ought to be ashamed of yourself I I'm desperate, and you . . ."
"I hope your son will be well soon," said Kahn calmly. "Perhaps you ought to consult Dr. Gräfenheim."
Hirsch made no answer. There was hatred in his face, but also suffering. He seemed more stooped than before. Maybe he's superstitious, I thought. Maybe he thinks his son's illness was brought on by his betrayal of Gräfenheim, and that's why he gave in so easily. Strangely enough, I felt almost sorry for him.
"I'm not sure his son is really sick," said Kahn in the elevator.
"He must be," I said. "A Jew doesn't tempt fate where members of his family are concerned."
Kahn gave me an amused look. "I bet he hasn't even got a son," he said.
We stepped out into the torrid street "Do you expect any trouble with Hirsch tomorrow?" I asked.
"I don't think so. He's worried about his naturalization."
"Why did you take me along?" I asked. "I was only in the way. Without a witness he mightn't have been so cautious."
Kahn laughed. "No. Your exterior was a big help."
"Why?"
"Because you look like such a big wholesome goy. A real Aryan. Two Jews understand each other too well—they don't take each other quite seriously. But a big Aryan bruiser— that's something else again. I'm sure you scared Hirsch out of his wits."
I knew I didn't have much sense of humor, but for this kind of thing I had none at all. I felt as if he had emptied a chamber pot over my head.
Kahn was quite unaware of my thoughts. He strode through the glassy noonday heat with the resilient step of a hunter who had sighted game. "At last a break in the boredom," he said. "It was getting unbearable. I'm not used to all this security."
"Why don't you enlist?" I asked dryly.
"I've tried. You know they don't take us. We're 'enemy aliens.' "
"But you must be a special case. The people in Washington must know what you did in France."
"They know, all right. As far as they're concerned, it's just one more reason for not trusting me. They think I was probably a double agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they locked me up."
"Have you really got those signatures?"
"Of course not. That's why I asked for a thousand instead of the whole amount. This way Hirsch will think he got off easy."
"You mean he'll think it was good business?"
"Yes, my poor Ross," he answered in a tone of commiseration. "That's the kind of world it is."
"I wish we could drive out someplace where it's quiet," I said to Natasha. 'To some little European village, or to a lake. Where we could stop sweating for a while."
"No car. Do you want me to call Fraser?"
"Certainly not."
"He wouldn't have to come along. He could lend us his car."
"No, I don*t even want h
is car. I'd rather take the subway or a bus."
"Where to?"
"That's the question, where to7 There seems to be twice as many people in this city in the summer."
"And it's so hot Poor Ross!"
That irritated me. It was the second time that day I had been called "poor Ross." "Couldn't we go to the Cloisters? I've never been there. Have you?"
"Yes. But the museums are closed in the evening. Even for refugees."