“You know some of the German children, the young ones, were given away. To Russian families. So they’re Russian now. Impossible to find. Even if you knew where. And the others? Dead, most of them. I never thought I would see him again. But all the time he’s at the school. For the ones they wanted to send back.” She stopped, going somewhere else. “Do you know what I remember? How your mother played the piano. The music in that house. Do you play?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s not like eyes or hair, is it? Something passed down. Maybe you’ll come one day for coffee. We can talk.”
“I’d like that.”
She looked up, suddenly clutching his hand. “He thinks it was some kind of school. A classroom somewhere. Lessons. To correct myself. When I try to tell him, he doesn’t hear. He thinks it was a school.”
“No, he knows what it was. He knows.”
“He knows and he doesn’t know. Like everybody. All right, that’s how he survives. But he doesn’t just survive. He’s one of them.”
“Mutti,” Markus said, coming in. “Alex.” Looking at her hand, still clutching Alex’s. “You’re here?” he said to Alex, annoyed.
“Something came up.”
“Yes, all right, come.” Eager to get him out of the room, like sweeping dust under a carpet. “Mutti, I won’t be long. They gave you some tea?”
“I’m fine.” She let go of Alex’s hand. “So you’ll come see me?”
“Yes, soon. I promise.” Another one broken.
“What’s all that?” Markus said, pointing to the big envelope under Alex’s arm as they walked down the hall.
“Papers. For a speech. On the radio.”
“The radio. You heard about the brother this morning? And now it’s our fault. ‘How could you let this happen?’ The Russians don’t tell us he escaped, they don’t tell us he’s here, and now it’s our fault. Nothing changes with them.” He stopped, hearing himself, and pulled back. “What did she say to you, Mutti?”
“Nothing. The old days. How is she doing?”
“I don’t know. I think maybe a little-” He put a finger to his temple. “Fantastical ideas.” He opened the door to his office. “I thought it was understood you don’t come here.”
“This couldn’t wait.”
“Yes? What?”
“I have something for you. But I want something too.”
Markus looked up, surprised. “What?”
“I want to be excused from Aaron’s trial.”
“Again with this,” Markus said, impatient. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Yes there is. Say you need me and this will compromise my position. They’ve got plenty of others to hammer the nails in the coffin. Nobody’s going to talk to me, if they think I’m part of this.” He opened his hand to take in Markus’s office.
“It’s the Russians who hold this trial, not us. Do you think they consult me-anybody-who should be a witness? Saratov doesn’t ask for permission.”
“No, but he’ll do you a favor. He’ll owe you.”
“Owe me for what?”
“Markovsky. I know where he is. That’s what I have.”
Markus stood staring for a minute, not moving. “How?” he said.
“I slept with her. Irene. That’s what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it? And you were right. Once we went to bed-well, you know what it’s like.”
Markus blinked, a tiny shift of his body, squeamish, and it suddenly occurred to Alex that he didn’t know, that his contempt for Irene came out of some monastic ignorance. An unexpected piece of luck-something he wouldn’t question.
“Where is he?” Markus said carefully, as if any sudden movement would scare Markovsky away.
“The Americans have him. Here. But they’re going to move him. And that’s our chance. I can deliver him to you.”
“You?”
“Irene trusts me. So Markovsky does too. But I have to do this alone. If you come anywhere near him, they’ll know and it’s over.” He opened his hand. “Gone.”
Markus said nothing for a minute, standing still, only his excited eyes giving him away.
“You surprise me,” he said. “To involve yourself in this.” A question.
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“I thought you would protect your friend.”
“I am protecting her. You’d find him sooner or later and then you’d blame her. She had nothing to do with it.” He held up his hand before Markus could speak. “I know, I know. But it was his choice. Now that you’ve got him, you can leave her out of it. They’ll be too busy grilling him about the Americans to care about her. And congratulating you. Another promotion. At least. You wanted to work together. All right. This way we both come out ahead.”
“Yes? What do you get?”
“A powerful friend in high places,” Alex said, looking at him. “What could be more useful?”
Markus didn’t answer for a second, looking for something in Alex’s face. “Yes, what?” he said finally, his tone a kind of handshake. “I cannot guarantee that I can do anything about the trial. You must understand that.”
“Get me postponed then. Saratov will be a lot more receptive tomorrow. One more thing? As far as Irene is concerned, I had nothing to do with this. It was all you.”
“You want to-stay with her?”
“Markovsky’s not coming back. She’ll be alone.” He looked over at Markus. “You take the credit.”
“When does this happen?”
“They’re moving him this afternoon. I’ll call you when we leave. You don’t want to have a car sitting around if you don’t have to. Not in the Western sectors. They won’t leave the West. You’ll have to make the grab there.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“I’ll be in the car. So no fireworks. Just a quick snatch and you’re gone. They won’t be expecting this, so you won’t need an army. Two should do it. Be quick and nobody will know. Except Markovsky.”
Markus looked at him, the beginning of a smile. “You have a liking for this work.”
“No. From now on we just have coffee, like you said. But this one fell into my lap. And you never know when you’re going to need a favor.”
Markus nodded. “Where are they taking him?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll call. Then you’ll be waiting for us.” He paused. “We’re not going to have another chance at this.”
“We only need one,” Markus said.
Alex took the U-Bahn, changing at Nollendorfplatz, a busy transfer station with several levels, an easy place to lose a tail. He let a train go by to see if anyone else stayed behind on the platform, then went downstairs. The train for Innsbrucker Platz was nearly empty, a weary late-morning crowd of rubble women and old men, their faces vacant. He thought of Markus, the eager eyes, so close now. What was the experiment? Two scorpions in a bottle, both safe if neither attacked. But one always did.
He got off a stop early, at the Rathaus Schöneberg, and walked across the park to RIAS. No one behind, on his own. He passed the spot where the car had been waiting and went in through the back gate. Ferber was in high spirits.
“We’ve had calls from all over to broadcast it again. People who missed it. Radio Berlin’s ignoring it, which is always a good sign. They usually like to twist a story, confuse things. This one they won’t even touch. Ha. Radioactive. Like the mines.” He smiled, enjoying his own joke. “Tell your friend he did a great job. You know, I thought today everybody would be talking about Mother Courage. But no. The Erzgebirge. A great success.”
“How’d you like another? Something to follow it up.” He took the tape from his coat pocket and handed it over.
“Another? From Erich?”
“No. From me.”
Ferber looked at him, waiting.
“Why I’m leaving. For the West. The exile returns East, then says no. I won’t testify against Aaron. You can splice in anything you like. But don’t broadcast until tomorrow, okay? By then it’ll be true.”
“You’re sure about this?” Ferber said gently. “It’s an important step. You can never go back.”
“I know.”