“No,” Kaltenbach said, covering his hand.
“You’ll need it.”
Kaltenbach shook his head. “But Frau Schneider, my landlady. There’s rent owing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Keep my good name,” he said, smiling sadly. “I’ll pay you back.” A ritual phrase.
Ostermann took one of the bills from his hand. “Here. For cake at the Romanische.”
Kaltenbach took the money. “ Mohnkuchen. Like nowhere else.” He touched Ostermann on the shoulder, starting to turn away, then stopped and looked at him again. “If you read that I’ve said something-something, you know, that doesn’t sound-you’ll know it’s not me, yes? You’ll remember that?”
“Of course.”
“Even if my name is attached. I may have to- But you know the books. They can’t change those. The rest, don’t listen. Just the books.”
“We should go,” Liesl said. “They look all right,” she said to Ben, now in Danny’s borrowed clothes. “How do you feel?”
“Ready. This all?” He lifted her bag.
“I have to be back. I’m in the scene.”
“They can shoot around you for one day.” He turned to Ostermann. “Have Iris call in sick for her. Doctor’s orders.”
“They won’t like that.”
“We can’t just drop him at the border. One day.”
They started across the terrace, then froze as the phone rang.
“Don’t answer,” Ben said. “That’ll be the hospital, wondering if I ended up here in my nightgown. What did you say at the nurses’ station?” he said to Liesl.
“That you were sleeping. I’d be back tomorrow.”
“Good. So I’m the only one missing. Walking around somewhere near Vine.”
“You’ll be in trouble for this?” Kaltenbach said.
“Not unless they catch us.”
They followed Ostermann’s car down the hill and stayed behind until he veered off with a small wave. Kaltenbach waved back, his eyes fixed on the featureless boulevard, a last look before it shimmered away. By the time they turned on Sepulveda, heading down the coast, he seemed to have lost interest, letting his head rest on the backseat, eyes closed, like someone on a long railroad trip.
“Don’t go too fast,” Ben said. “We don’t want to get stopped.”
“Why are you so nervous? Nobody has any idea. Why are we supposed to be going, if anyone asks?”
“The races. Everybody goes down for the races. Fishing in Ensenada. I don’t know, why does anyone go?”
“Your brother used to say, don’t think about anything,” Kaltenbach said. “Pretend it’s the most natural thing in the world. If you worry at all, they sense it. Like dogs.”
“And did you worry?”
“I was terrified. You know what I think got us through? Alma. The way she’s in her own world. At the border she seemed surprised to see the guards, you know, anything in her way. They didn’t even question us. Of course your brother made a gift to them, but even so. They usually asked questions, to make a show. But not Alma. Si, senora. Up goes the crossing bar. And all I could think was, don’t sweat, don’t let them smell it on you. And you know, if it had gone the other way-well, it was another time. I owe my life to him. Now you.”
“No. This isn’t the same.”
“It feels the same. All that climbing, I was afraid for my heart. Now look, a chauffeur. But the same.” He was quiet for a minute, watching the night landscape pass, dark houses and miles of streetlights stretching down to Long Beach. “I never said good-bye to Alma. I wonder if she’ll notice that I’m gone.”
“Everybody will,” Ben said. “You’ll be in the papers.”
“So. You have to leave to make an impression,” he said, playing with it.
They drove past Huntington Beach, the lights getting fewer, Liesl sneaking glances at him.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“Nothing,” she said, a little startled, unaware that he’d seen.
“I’m all right, really.”
“It’s not that. The jacket. I bought it. I was remembering when I bought it.”
He fell asleep without realizing it, his head against the window, dreaming of the stars spilling across the sky on Mt. Wilson. Then he was at the Cherokee, watching blood spread in the alley, someone else’s blood, not his. Had Danny fought back? He woke when she stopped for gas, the station overly bright in the black landscape.
“Where are we?”
“Nowhere. Another twenty miles to La Jolla. Maybe we should stop there. It’s a long drive.”
“No,” Kaltenbach said from the back, “it’s important not to stop.” Another lesson from the Pyrenees. “Even to rest. People notice you. You see that car? It’s been behind us. Now it stops, too.”
“It’s the first station for miles,” Liesl said.
“Go to the toilet,” Ben said. “See if they follow. I’ve got your back.”
The attendant came over to start the pump.
“You encourage him,” Liesl said.
“He’s careful. Want a Coke?”
He went over to the ice cooler and pulled out a bottle and opened it, glancing at the second car as he drank. Two men on a Sunday night. Going where? Kaltenbach came out of the station, head low, his face shadowed by his hat.
“They’re still there?”
“Getting gas. I think it’s all right.”
They paid and left, Ben driving now, one eye on the rearview mirror.
“How would anybody know?” Liesl said to him, using English, Heinrich just a child in the backseat, swiveling his head from time to time. “You think they were watching his house?”
“He’s not the only one in the car. You heard Kelly. The guy was a hired hand. And I’m still here.”
She took this in, thinking for a minute. “And yet you do this. Out here. Where it’s easy for them.”
He said nothing.
“They were going to use Heinrich anyway. You didn’t make them.”
“I helped.”
“So it’s all on your shoulders. All the problems of the world.” She looked out the window, quiet. “You and Daniel.”
“What do I do? Just sit there?” He looked at her. “It’s not much, considering.”
“They’re turning off,” Kaltenbach said, looking out the back.
After La Jolla there were more lights, the hilly outskirts of San Diego. Liesl was fiddling with the radio, Kaltenbach keeping watch for cars.
“In the movies they always hear about themselves on the radio,” Liesl said. “But listen, just music. So we’re safe.” She turned the dial, picking up a Spanish-language station. “We must be close. What will they think of us? Different passports.”
“They don’t care much going out. It’s getting back in. It’ll be easier, just the two of us.”
“With a bandage on your head.” She was quiet for a minute. “Why did he want to kill you? You never told me that part. Why?”
“He was paid.”
“The one who paid him.”
“Maybe I’m getting close.”
“Close,” she said, not following.
“Who killed Danny.”
“Why do you think that? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
He shook his head, dodging. “But I must be.”
“Then he’ll try again,” she said flatly. “You have to go to the police.”
“With what? Tell them Danny was a snitch for Minot? I have to stay close to Minot. That’s the connection.”
She looked down. “He wasn’t that. I still don’t believe it.”
“Maybe he thought he had a reason,” Ben said, letting it go.
“We’re coming to the border,” Kaltenbach said, his voice nervous and melodramatic, as if he had seen guard dogs and soldiers with guns. In fact it was only a string of lighted booths under an arched sign.
“Go to sleep,” Ben said to him. “I don’t want to use a Czech passport if we don’t have to. He’d remember. He’s probably never seen one.”
“I don’t have to show it?”
“We can try. Close your eyes.”
He pulled up to the booth, holding his ID out the open window. A uniform like a state trooper, with a broad-brimmed hat.
“Driving late,” the guard said, checking the ID.
“Want to be early for the races.”
“Not tomorrow you won’t. No races. You didn’t know?”