I dont think I will be going to England. My plan is to go to Pales-tine.
Oh, Russell said, taken by surprise. Does your mother know?
Of course. I am a man now. I must do what is best for the whole family. When I get work and somewhere to live, I can send for them.
Immigration is restricted.
I know that. But we will find a way.
If theres a war, theyll stop it altogether.
Then we will wait.
They were entering Kottbus now, and Russell concentrated on not drawing attention to his driving. But the market town seemed caught in its afternoon nap, and they were soon back in open country. A few kilometers more, and they passed under the Silesian autobahn. Their road grew suddenly busier, and a sign announced that they were 93 kilometers from Gorlitz.
It was not yet three oclock. At this rate they would arrive far too early. They needed one of those stopping places with a view which the Germans loved so much.
The Germans, Russell repeated to himself. After fifteen years of living there, of feeling a little more German each year, the process seemed to have slipped into reverse. Lately, he seemed to be feeling a little less German each day. But not more English. So what did that make him?
Why are you doing this? Albert asked him.
Russell just shrugged. Who knows?
The reason I aska year ago, before Kristallnacht, I used to wonder how people could be so cruel, but I never questioned why someone was kind. Now its the opposite. I can see all sorts of reasons why people are cruel, but kindness is becoming a mystery.
He was six years older than Paul, Russell thought. Just six years. He tried to think of an adequate answer to Alberts question.
Whatever the reason, I thank you anyway, Albert said. My family thanks you.
I think there are many reasons, Russell said. Some good, some not so good. Some I dont understand myself. I like your family. Maybe its as simple as that. And maybe, he thought, any half-decent family in the Wiesners situation would have been enough to push him off his fence.
The phrase I used to be a good journalist passed through his mind, leaving him wondering where it had come from. This had nothing to do with journalism. He thought about McKinleys papers, uselessly hidden in the poste restante, and came, with a sudden lift of the heart, to a realization so obvious that he couldn't believe he had missed it. If he was going to risk his life and liberty for a few military secrets, then why not take out McKinleys papers as well? He had only one head to cut off.
The road was climbing now, the sky almost cloudless. Around ten kilometers from Gorlitz Russell found the stopping place he had been looking for, a wide graveled ledge overlooking a pretty river. Eager to stretch, they both got out, and Russell ran through the arranged script for the Gorlitz buffet. Once you are in Prague, the first thing you must dothe first thingis to telephone me. Your mother wont leave Germany until she knows youre safe.
You havent given me the number, Albert said sensibly.
Russell made him repeat it several times, wondering as he did soand hating himself for ithow long the boy would resist a Gestapo interrogation.
Albert seemed to know what he was thinking. I wont give you up, he said simply.
None of us know what well do in a situation like that.
I wont get into a situation like that, Albert said, pulling a grubby-looking Luger from his coat pocket.
Oh shit, Russell thought, glancing left and right in search of approaching traffic and barking Put it away! The road was blissfully empty. Thats. . . . he started to say, and stopped himself. What right did he have to give the boy advice? Albert had been in Sachsenhausen once, and his father had died there. It wasnt hard to see why going out in a blaze of gunfire seemed preferable to going back.
He breathed out slowly. You have to leave the coat with me, he said. Wont the gun be obvious in your jacket pocket?
Ill put it in my belt, Albert said, and did so. He then took the coat off and offered Russell a 360-degree turn, like a model at a fashion show. The gun didn't show.
Back in the car, Albert pulled a workingmens cap from a pocket of the discarded coat, and Russell reached into the KaDeWe bag for the blue scarf. The recognition signal, he explained, and Albert wrapped it around his neck, reminding Russell of Paul on a skating trip.
They drove on, the sky a deepening blue as dusk approached, the mountains slowly creeping above the southern horizon. As they reached the outskirts of Gorlitz it occurred to Russell that anyone with a brain would have studied a plan of the townthe last thing he wanted to do was ask directions to the station. Go to the town center and look for signs, he told himself. The Germans were good at signs.
He picked up some tram tracks and followed them in what seemed the obvious direction. After passing several large industrial concerns, the road narrowed through a handsome arch and arrived at a wide street full of old buildings. There were theaters, statues, a large water fountainin any other circumstances, Gorlitz would be worth an afternoon stroll.
There! Albert said, indicating a sign to the station.
They drove down a long straight street, toward what looked like a station. It was. The station building was about a hundred meters long, the entrance to the booking hall right in the center. There were lighted windows to the left of this entrance, and steam billowing out of two large vents.
Russell pulled the car to a halt behind a Reichsbahn parcels truck. The buffet, he said, pointing it out. Therell be an entrance from the booking hall.
It was ten to five.
Albert just sat there for a few seconds, then turned to shake Russells hand.
The boy looked nervous now, Russell thought. Safe journey, he said.
Albert climbed out and, without a backward look, headed toward the entrance. There was nothing furtive about his strideif anything it was too upright. He leapt up the two steps and in through the doorway.
Start driving, Russell told himself, but he didn't. He sat there watching as the minutes passed. Two men in SA uniform emerged, laughing at something. A man ran in, presumably late for a train. Only seconds later a spasm of chuffs settled into the accelerating rhythm of a departing engine.
He imagined Albert sitting there, and wondered whether hed tried to buy a coffee. If he had, he might have been refused; if he hadn't, some power-mad waiter might have tried to move him on. He imagined a challenge, the gun pulled out, the sound of shots and a frantic Albert flying out through the doorway. Russell wondered what he would do. Pick him up? Race out of Gorlitz with the police in hot pursuit? What else could he do? His mouth was suddenly dry.
And then Albert did come out. There was another man with him, a shortish man in his forties with graying hair and a very red nose, who shifted his head from side to side like an animal sniffing for danger. The two of them walked across to the small open truck with a timber load which Russell had already noticed, and swung themselves up into their respective cab seats. The engine burst into life and the truck set off down the street, leaving a bright tail of exhaust hanging in the cold evening air.
Left Luggage
AFTER LEAVING GORLITZ, Russell took the next available chance to telephone Effi. A brass band was practicing in the first bar he tried, but with receiver and hand clamped tight against his ears he could just about hear the relief in her voice. Ill be waiting, she said.
He chose the autobahn north from Kottbus, hoping to speed the journey, but an overturned vehicle in a military convoy had the opposite effect. By the time he reached Friedrichshain it was almost nine oclock. Frau Wiesner could hardly have opened the door any faster if shed been waiting with her hand on the knob.