The following Saturday the thieves are back, and a funny thing happens. They notice a stranger in the yard, or at least the one who’s standing in the lee of the wall, he notices, and the other two with their torches are of out of the hole like leprechauns, and racing out the gate. That’s where Gerner is though, and them going like the clappers across the wall next door. Gerner is after them, but they can’t wait: ‘Don’t be stupid, I’m not going to hurt you, God you bloody idiots.’ He watches as they scramble over the wall, his heart is breaking, two of them have scarpered already, guys, don’t be stupid. Then the third of them, straddling the wall, shines a torch in his face: ‘What’s your game?’ Perhaps he’s just a colleague who’s queering their pitch. ‘I’m on your side,’ says Gerner. What’s up with him. ‘I’m on your side, what are you running away for.’
Finally the man crawls down, takes a look at the chippie, who seems a little the worse for wear. The smell of drink emboldens him. Gerner holds out his hand. ‘Shake, mate, are you in?’ ‘Is this a trap?’ ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘You putting one over on me?’ Gerner acts offended, the man isn’t taking him seriously, hope he doesn’t run off as well, the Goldwasser was lovely, his wife would be on his case too, if, God forbid, he came back empty-handed. Gerner begs him: ‘No, no. You can come down, I live here.’ ‘Who are you?’ ‘I’m the caretaker, for Christ’s sake, but I wouldn’t mind a piece of the action.’ The thief has a little think, it would be great if this guy came in; so long as it’s not a trap; well, and if it is, we’re armed.
And he leaves his ladder propped against the wall, crosses the yard with Gerner, and the other two are long gone, sure they’re thinking I got stuck. Then Gerner rings the bell: ‘Why are you ringing, who do you think lives here?’ Gerner proudly: ‘None other. Watch this.’ And he lifts the latch and enters noisily: ‘Well, do I or don’t I?’
And he switches on the light, and there’s his wife standing in the kitchen doorway, shaking like a leaf. Gerner does the honours: ‘Now, this is my wife, Gusti, and this is my new colleague.’ She’s still shaking, refuses to come out, then suddenly she gives a solemn nod, he’s a nice young man, a very presentable young man. She comes out, and suddenly she’s all: ‘Paul, how can you leave the gentleman to stand in the corridor, step this way sir, take your cap off.’
He wants to be gone, but they won’t let him, can it really be, two such respectable people, they must be doing badly, you always hear about the middle classes suffering, what with the Inflation and all. The little woman is gazing at him adoringly, he takes a glass of punch to warm up, then he pushes of, he’s not entirely sure what that was all about either.
Anyway, the young man, now obviously sent by his gang, turns up again the following morning after tiffin, enquires whether he left anything behind. Gerner’s not there, just the wife, who receives him warmly, yes, submissively, dutifully, and offers him a drink, which he condescends to take.
To the consternation of the caretaker couple the thieves then stay away all week. Paul and Gusti talk the thing through a thousand times, did they perhaps scare them away, but they don’t feel they’ve done anything wrong. ‘Perhaps you were a bit rough with them, Paul, you know, sometimes you get like that.’ ‘No, Gusti, it wasn’t nothing I done, I’m thinking maybe it was you, you had an expression on yer face like you was in holy orders or something, and that put him off, they can’t seem to shake down with us, it’s too bad, but what are we to do about it.’
Gusti is already in tears; even if just the one boy came again; she’s forever hearing her husband’s reproaches, and it really wasn’t nothing she done.
And Friday rolls around, and the moment has come. There’s a knock on the door. Did you hear a knock? And even as she opens the door and doesn’t see anything, because in her haste she has forgotten to switch on the light, she knows who it is. It’s the tall fellow who always acts so proper, and he wants to have a word with her husband and he’s terribly brisk with her. She’s alarmed: has anything happened. He calms her down: ‘No, purely a business conversation’, says something about premises, and you don’t get something for nothing in this life, and so on. They are sitting in the parlour, she’s so happy he’s here with her, and now Paul can’t go on claiming she scared them of, and she says that’s what she always says too, that you don’t get something for nothing. A long discussion ensues, and it turns out that they both know sayings from their parents and grandparents and in-laws that come to the same thing: there’s no such thing as a free lunch, and they are both insistent on the point, so certain are they, and they were of one mind. They came up with example after example, from their own past, from the neighbourhood, and they were in the midst of this when there was a ring, and in walk two gentlemen who identified themselves as detectives, and with them three insurance company representatives. The one detective addressed the visitor without any preamble: ‘Herr Gerner, we need your help, it’s to do with the many break-ins at the back. I would like you to take part in a special watch. My colleagues from the insurance company will of course cover your costs.’ They talk for ten minutes, the woman listens to everything, at twelve they leave. And the two parties left behind felt so relaxed after this conversation, that at around one something quite unmentionable transpired, to the shame of both parties. Because the woman was thirty-five, and the young man was maybe twenty or twenty-one. It wasn’t just the age difference – or the fact that he was six foot two, and she five foot even – as the fact that it happened at all, but it seemed so natural, what with the conversation and the excitement and the making monkeys of the policemen, and in a way it wasn’t a bad thing either, only a little shaming après, at least where she was concerned, but then she got over it all right. At any rate by two o’clock Herr Gerner came home to such a cosy scene that he couldn’t have wished for anything more cordial. He himself slotted right in.
They were still sitting together at six o’clock, and he and his wife were listening in raptures to the stories the tall geezer was telling. Even if they were only part-true, they were a first-rate bunch of lads, and he was amazed at the sensible views a young person like that took of the world. He had certainly knocked around, and the scales fell from his, Gerner’s, eyes. Yes, when the lad was gone and they went to bed at around nine, Gerner said he had no idea what such smart lads were doing with a fellow like him – there had to be something, Gusti would surely admit, something he had to offer them as well. Gusti quite agreed with him, and the old fellow stretched out.
In the morning, early, before he got up, he said to her: ‘Now Gusti, call me Paul Piependeckel if I ever approach a foreman on a building site for work again. I had my own business and that went tits up, and this is no occupation for a man who used to be his own boss, and ideally they’d throw me on the scrapheap because I’m too old. And why shouldn’t I earn my cut, from this gang. You could see for yourself what a bright bunch of lads they were. You’ve got to be bright these days, otherwise you’ve had it. That’s what I say. What about you?’ ‘I’ve been saying that for a long time.’ ‘You see. I wanna go at the fleshpots myself, and not freeze my extremities off.’ Out of gratitude and enthusiasm for everything he offered and would offer she gave him a hug. ‘Do you know what we should do then, you and me, old lady?’ He pinched her in the leg and she screeched. ‘You join in.’ ‘Nah.’ ‘And I’m saying yes. You’re thinking we can manage without you. We need you in with us.’ ‘Five of you, and all strong fellows.’ Strong, and how! ‘I can’t stand guard neither,’ she goes on, ‘standing is murder on me varicose veins.’
‘As far as helping goes, how’m I sposed to help?’ ‘Are you scared, Gustelchen?’ ‘What do you mean, scared. You should try running with me veins. A dachshund’s faster. And then when they nab me, you’re in the soup, because I’m your missus.’ ‘Is it my fault you’re my missus, then?’ He pinched her in the leg again, with feeling. ‘Stop that Paul, you don’t know what that does to a person.’ ‘You see, take you away from pickled cabbage, and you
turn into someone else.’ ‘Well, I’m game, that life makes me mouth water.’ ‘You know that little bit, that weren’t nothing, you need to take the cotton wool out of your ears. I’ve half a mind to go into business by meself.’ ‘What? And the rest of the boys?’ The shock of it.
‘That’s just it, Guste. We’ll do it without them. You know, these joint ventures, they never work, it’s well known. So, are you in or not. I’m going solo. We’re at ground zero here, it being my building and all. What d’you reckon?’ ‘How’m I going to help, Paul, with my varicose veins and all.’ Not to mention various other regrets. And with a bittersweet expression the missus agrees, but inside, where the feelings are, she is saying: no, and again: no.
And that night, once the whole gang have left the cellar at six o’clock, and Gerner is all alone in there with his wife, and it’s nine, and nothing’s stirring in the house, and he is about to start working, and the watchman will be out patrolling in front of the house, what happens? There’s a knock on the cellar door. A knock. I’m thinking, that’s a knock. When who on earth could be knocking. The business is shut. A knock. And another. The pair of them quiet as mice, not a stir, and not a word either. Again a knock. Gerner gives her a nudge: ‘That’s a knock.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Who can it be?’ She, oddly enough, not at all afraid, just says: ‘Oh, it won’t be anything, and they won’t kill us.’ No, but he’ll do something else, my phantom visitor, I know who it is anyway, and he’s not come to murder me, he’s got two long legs, and a wee little moustache, and when he comes won’t I be happy to see him. And then there’s another knock, sharp but quiet. For God’s sake, it’s a signal. ‘It’s someone who knows us. It’s one of our boys.’ ‘That’s what I concluded too, missus.’ ‘Then why don’t you say so.’
And suddenly Gerner is on the staircase, how do they even know we’re in here, they’ve caught us out, the man outside is whispering: ‘Sst, Gerner, open up.’
Then, whether he wants to or not, he has to open up. It’s a nasty dirty business, in fact it’s a blooming disgrace, he’d like to smash the world in pieces. He has to open, it’s the lanky one, by himself, her fancy man, Gerner doesn’t notice anything, she has shopped him, she is that beholden to her fancy man. She beams to see him down there, she can’t help herself, her husband stands there like a bulldog, swearing: ‘What have you got to grin about then?’ ‘Oh, I was so worried it might be someone from the building, or else a watchman.’ They have to share and share alike, and swearing won’t make it any better, goddamnit.
When Gerner tries his luck another time, and this time parks his old lady upstairs, because he swears she only brings him bad luck – then there’s more knocking, but this time it’s three of them, and they’re pretending he invited them up, there’s nothing to be done about it, he’s not even the master in his own house, there’s nothing he can do about those fellers. Then, furious and checkmated, Gerner vows: I’m going to pitch in tonight, birds of a feather and all that, but tomorrow I’m through: and if those bastards come knocking again in my building, where I’m the janitor, and they stick their noses in my business, then I’ll make them acquainted with the police. Those fellows are profiteers, extortionists is what they are.
And then they work away for all of two hours in the cellar, carrying most of the loot over to Gerner’s flat, sackloads of coffee, currants, sugar, they clean up, then crateloads of booze, schnapps and wine, they empty out half the storeroom. Gerner is hopping mad because of having to share it all with them. His wife tries to comfort him: ‘I wouldn’t have been able to carry it all with my varicose veins.’ He’s sarky back, they’re still carrying stuff: ‘You and your varicose veins, you should have worn support stockings long ago, that’s all down to your economies, you’re always trying to economize at the wrong time.’ But Guste only has eyes for her lanky fancy man, who’s throwing his weight around in front of the other lads, because he fixed it all, and this is his show now.
The minute they’re gone, having worked like dogs, Gerner shuts his front door, locks up and starts hitting the booze with Guste, at least let him have some of that. He wants to try out all the kinds and flog the best of the stuff, he’s got a couple of guys in mind for that, and they’re both looking forward to it, Guste too, he is a good man and she’s married to him, and she will help him out. And from two till five in the morning they sit up and diligently and methodically sample all the drink. Thoroughly pleased with themselves and their night’s work, they stagger into bed, they’ve both had a skinful, they dropped like sacks.
At noon they’re called upon to open. There’s a ringing and a jingling and a tinkling. But who doesn’t open is the Gerners. How could they with what they’ve drunk. But the noise doesn’t stop, there’s loud banging on the door now, and that gets through to Guste, who sits up with a jolt and hits Paul to wake him: ‘Paul, there’s knocking, you’ve gorra open.’ First he replies: ‘What? Where?’, then she pushes him out because they’ll have the door down, it’ll be the postie. Paul gets up, pulls on a pair of trousers, opens the door. And they breeze in past him, three of them, a whole band, what are they doing, is it the gang come to collect the goods already, no, these aren’t the same guys. These are cops, detectives, and their case is out on a plate. Their jaws drop. Their jaws drop, the janitor, the lat is jam-packed, the corridor, the parlour, with sacks and crates and bottles and straw, all of a heap. The detective says: ‘I’ve not seen such a disgraceful case in all my years of service.’
And Gerner, what does Gerner say? What can he say? Not a dicky bird! He just gawps at the coppers, and on top of that he’s feeling a trifle nauseous, the bloodhounds, if I had a revolver they wouldn’t take me alive. A man is sentenced to life on a building site, and it’s all exploitation. If they’d only let me have one more glassful. But there’s nothing for it, he has to get dressed. ‘Surely you can give me a minute to do up my braces and all.’
His wife is drooling and trembling: ‘I had no idea, Inspector, we’re respectable people here, someone must have pulled the wool over our eyes, those boxes, we were fast asleep. They must have seen that, and someone in the building played a trick on us. Oh, Inspector, you surely won’t. Paul, what are we going to do?’ ‘You can tell us all about it at the station.’ Gerner chips in: ‘Now they’ve gone and broken into our place, it must be the same band as did the jobs at the back, and they want to talk to us.’ ‘You can tell us about it back at the station.’ ‘I’m not going to the bloody police.’ ‘We’re going.’ ‘My God, Guste, I didn’t hear a thing, they broke in here, and I was sleeping like a rat.’ ‘But so was I, Paul, so was I.’
Guste would like to take a couple of letters from her chest of drawers, billets-doux she had from the lanky boy, but one of the detectives spots her. ‘Let’s see that. Or just put them back. We’ll have the place searched later anyway.’
She says mutinously: ‘You will, will you. Well, you should be ashamed of yourselves, breaking into a respectable flat like this.’ ‘Get a move on, will you.’
She cries, avoids looking at her husband, throws herself on the ground, they have to frogmarch her out. The man is swearing and has to be restrained: ‘Take your hands off her.’ The hoodlums, the vile band of blackmailers are gone, and they left me in it up to my neck.
Hopp, hopp, hopp, horsey does gallop
Hands in pockets, collar up past his ears, head and hat thrust between his shoulders, Franz Biberkopf takes no part in any of the various conversations in hallway and staircase. Just listened to one group, picked up something from another. Afterwards watched as they formed a guard of honour as the carpenter and his fat little missus are taken down the passage onto the street. Now they’re gone. Well, I was on the lam once meself. That were night-time, though. Look at them all staring. Should be ashamed of themselves. Yeah, yeah, I see the tongues hanging out. You know what a person’s feeling inside. Those curtain-twitchers are the real miscreants, but of course nothing ever happens to them. Unbelievable, those crooks. Now they’re opening up the
Black Maria. In you go now, my little ones, in you go, the little woman as well, my, isn’t she’s tiddly, and why not, why not indeed. Let them laugh. They should see what it’s like. I’m outta here.
People were still putting their heads together when Franz Biberkopf stood outside the door, it was vilely cold. He saw the door from outside, from the other side of the road, what’s a man to do now, eh. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Damned cold. Bitching cold. I’m not going upstairs. What will I do.
There he stood, turned – and hadn’t realized he was back. He had nothing to do with the pack that was standing there ogling. I’ll see what’s happening somewhere else. Screw this. And he sets off at a good lick, along Elsasser Strasse, along the security fence where they’re building the new underground, to Rosenthaler Platz, oh, anywhere.
And so it came to pass that Franz Biberkopf left his burrow. The man they expelled through the guard of honour, the plump, tiddly woman and the Black Maria all went with him. But when he saw a pub on the corner, that’s when it started again. His hands felt for his pockets, and no bottle there for refilling. Nothing. No bottle. Left it upstairs. All because of that bloody kerfuffle. When the noise started, he slipped his coat on, ran out and didn’t give the bottle a thought. Damn! Do I go back? Then it set up in him: yes no, no yes. So much shrugging, back and forth, scolding, agreeing, fussing, well what is it, leave it out, I want to go in, that hadn’t been seen in Franz for an eternity. Do I, don’t I, I’m thirsty, well, there’s always seltzer water, if you go in, you’ll only drink, Christ, yes, I’ve got a powerful thirst on me, massive, unholy thirst, God I need a drink, so stay here, don’t go back to your place, otherwise you’ll be prostrated like before, you, and then you’ll be back at the old lady’s again, like before. And then there was the Black Maria, and the carpenter couple, and scoot, right about, no, not here, maybe somewhere else, walk on, on, walking, always walking.