yards in silence. “Why did we have to come out here?” Paul asked eventually. “That was the most comfortable chair I’ve sat in for years.”
Breitner lit a cigarette. “Christ, you’re so naive sometimes. That office must be knee-deep in microphones.”
“You think the garden isn’t?”
Breitner laughed. “You’re probably right. Okay, give me and the microphones a good reason for saying yes to this mad scheme.”
Paul lit his own cigarette. “I’ll give you three. One, if we say no, we’ll at best end up back in the East.”
“Good, but not very positive.”
“Two, how does duty strike you?”
“Like the song says: My comrades and my sense of duty, they died together in the snow.”
“Three, it’s not such a mad scheme.”
“Yes, you have to admire the nerve. Train holdups in America! In 1944!”
“And I’ll give you a fourth. We’re going, whatever we say. Like the man said, the U-boat leaves in less than three days, so they’ve decided it’s us. And we’ve both still got living relatives.”
Paul looked at him sharply. “You think they’d go that far?”
“Yes.”
They walked in silence for a while. Paul was remembering another Atlantic crossing many years before, his first sight of her face across the smoky room, their first embrace on the promenade deck, surrounded by ocean and stars. Breitner was thinking that it had been American bombs that had killed his wife and son, and wondering why he felt no thirst for revenge.
He shook his head. “I don’t suppose it’ll be much different from holding up trains anywhere else.”
“Gerd, what is this stuff? Uranium-235?”
“God knows. Atomic physics was taboo in my time. ‘Jewish physics’ they called it. Now there’s an irony to savor.” He ground out his cigarette. “I expect they’ll enlighten us further before we go.”
“We go, then?”
“As your superior officer, I strongly advise it. Let’s indulge our spirit of adventure. It’s been so dull in the East.”
Paul winced.
Three days later the two men stood on the conning tower of U-107 as it eased its way out of La Pallice docks past groups of sullen-looking Frenchmen. The crew, which seemed extraordinarily young to the two soldiers, had just been told that this was not to be a fighting voyage and were trying not to express their relief too openly.
The young Bavarian captain had made less effort to hide his feelings. “Welcome to the longest taxi ride in history,” he had greeted them. Paul promised him a good tip if they made good time.
Five
Amy walked slowly across Battery Park, savoring the touch of the cool breeze blowing in from New York Harbour. She was early for the meeting, and the grass was still covered with office workers taking in the last minutes of sunshine from their lunch hour. At the café near the ferry dock she bought an iced tea and sat down in the shade at one of the outside tables. Across the bay she could see two ferries crossing. Behind them a troopship was moving out toward the Narrows and on to Europe.
When the clock showed five mintues to two she made her way across to the terminal, bought a ticket, and joined the crowd by the embarkation doors. Looking around, she could see neither Doesburg nor the young man from the Soviet Consulate.
Doesburg, arriving a few minutes later, recognized the dark-haired slim figure near the front of the line. He mopped his brow with an already soaked handkerchief, wondering if the heat was solely responsible for the sweat. He hadn’t fully recovered from Kroeger’s dramatic appearance the previous Friday night, and the cavalier disregard of security on Berlin’s part that it implied. It might have been necessary, but he still found it hard to live with the knowledge that there was someone in America who could telephone the FBI and give away his address. But there was the money. Even $6,000 would go a long way.
The doors clanged open and the crowd surged onto theferry. He found Amy in the
Breitner lit a cigarette. “Christ, you’re so naive sometimes. That office must be knee-deep in microphones.”
“You think the garden isn’t?”
Breitner laughed. “You’re probably right. Okay, give me and the microphones a good reason for saying yes to this mad scheme.”
Paul lit his own cigarette. “I’ll give you three. One, if we say no, we’ll at best end up back in the East.”
“Good, but not very positive.”
“Two, how does duty strike you?”
“Like the song says: My comrades and my sense of duty, they died together in the snow.”
“Three, it’s not such a mad scheme.”
“Yes, you have to admire the nerve. Train holdups in America! In 1944!”
“And I’ll give you a fourth. We’re going, whatever we say. Like the man said, the U-boat leaves in less than three days, so they’ve decided it’s us. And we’ve both still got living relatives.”
Paul looked at him sharply. “You think they’d go that far?”
“Yes.”
They walked in silence for a while. Paul was remembering another Atlantic crossing many years before, his first sight of her face across the smoky room, their first embrace on the promenade deck, surrounded by ocean and stars. Breitner was thinking that it had been American bombs that had killed his wife and son, and wondering why he felt no thirst for revenge.
He shook his head. “I don’t suppose it’ll be much different from holding up trains anywhere else.”
“Gerd, what is this stuff? Uranium-235?”
“God knows. Atomic physics was taboo in my time. ‘Jewish physics’ they called it. Now there’s an irony to savor.” He ground out his cigarette. “I expect they’ll enlighten us further before we go.”
“We go, then?”
“As your superior officer, I strongly advise it. Let’s indulge our spirit of adventure. It’s been so dull in the East.”
Paul winced.
Three days later the two men stood on the conning tower of U-107 as it eased its way out of La Pallice docks past groups of sullen-looking Frenchmen. The crew, which seemed extraordinarily young to the two soldiers, had just been told that this was not to be a fighting voyage and were trying not to express their relief too openly.
The young Bavarian captain had made less effort to hide his feelings. “Welcome to the longest taxi ride in history,” he had greeted them. Paul promised him a good tip if they made good time.
Five
Amy walked slowly across Battery Park, savoring the touch of the cool breeze blowing in from New York Harbour. She was early for the meeting, and the grass was still covered with office workers taking in the last minutes of sunshine from their lunch hour. At the café near the ferry dock she bought an iced tea and sat down in the shade at one of the outside tables. Across the bay she could see two ferries crossing. Behind them a troopship was moving out toward the Narrows and on to Europe.
When the clock showed five mintues to two she made her way across to the terminal, bought a ticket, and joined the crowd by the embarkation doors. Looking around, she could see neither Doesburg nor the young man from the Soviet Consulate.
Doesburg, arriving a few minutes later, recognized the dark-haired slim figure near the front of the line. He mopped his brow with an already soaked handkerchief, wondering if the heat was solely responsible for the sweat. He hadn’t fully recovered from Kroeger’s dramatic appearance the previous Friday night, and the cavalier disregard of security on Berlin’s part that it implied. It might have been necessary, but he still found it hard to live with the knowledge that there was someone in America who could telephone the FBI and give away his address. But there was the money. Even $6,000 would go a long way.
The doors clanged open and the crowd surged onto theferry. He found Amy in the