Zoo Station by David Downing

remembered. The Nazi angrily denied the claim that National Socialism had put fetters on science or research. Restrictions, he insisted, had only been placed on the unruly. In fact, decency and sincerity had only obtained their freedom under National Socialism.

    He had been ranting for an hour and a half when Russell left, and looked set for many hours more. Coming away, Russell knew what Normanton had meant about Mad Hatter material but, for once in his life, he felt more emotionally in tune with McKinleys simple disgust. Perhaps it was the fact that his next port of call was the Wiesners.

    He picked up a Daily Mail while changing trams in Alexanderplatz and went through it with the two girls. They pored over the fashion pictures and ads, puzzled over the headline MAN WHO SLAPPED WOMAN MAYOR SAYS IM ASTOUNDED, and objected to the one which claimed ALL WOMEN ARE MAGPIES. A photograph of the King of Egypt out duck-shooting reduced Ruth to such a fit of giggles that her mother came out to see what was happening.

    After the lesson she brought out the best coffee and cake Russell had tasted for months, and thanked him profusely for all he was doing. Her husband was well, she said, but her face clouded over when he asked about Albert. He was finding things difficult. He had the feeling she thought about saying more but decided against it.

    Hed planned a few more hours of work before picking up Effi from the theater, but after Streicher and the Wiesners he felt more like punching someone. He found another Western on the Kudamm and sank into a world of huge skies, lofty canyons, and simple justice. Chewing gum for the heart.

    Effi was tired and seemed as subdued as he felt. They walked slowly back to her flat, went to bed, and lay quietly in each others arms until she fell asleep. Her face grew younger in sleep, and she looked even more like Ruth Wiesner.

    WEDNESDAY EVENING, RUSSELL WAS listening to dance band music on the BBC when McKinley knocked on his door and suggested a drink. While he collected his shoes from the bedroom the young American scanned his bookshelves. Half of these are banned, he said admiringly when Russell returned.

    I havent got round to burning them yet, he replied, reaching for his coat.

    Outside it was warmer than it had been, but there were specks of rain in the air. As they turned the corner onto Lindenstrasse McKinley took a sudden look over his shoulder, as if hed heard something.

    What? Russell asked, seeing nothing.

    McKinley shook his head. Nothing, he said.

    They walked under the elevated U-bahn tracks at Hallesches Tor, and across Blucherplatz to the bar they used for their infrequent drinks together. It was almost empty. The barman yawned on his stool; two old men in the corner stared morosely at each other. McKinley bought them beersdark for Russell, light for himselfwhile Russell commandeered the only bowl with any nuts and carried it across to the table with the fewest standing pools. As he lowered himself into the seat it groaned alarmingly but held together. We have to find a new bar, he murmured.

    McKinley tried his beer and smiled in satisfaction. Okay, he said. Now tell me about Schacht.

    Hes dead in the water.

    Okay, but why? I never understood economics.

    Schacht does. Thats why.

    What do you mean?

    Russell thought about it. Schacht wants to see the economy run according to the laws of economics. He did when he was Finance Minister, and as long as hes in charge of the Reichsbank hell keep beating the same drum. The trade deficit is soaring, the Reichsbanks holdings of foreign exchange are dwindling, and theres a real possibility of another runaway inflation. The economys running out of control. Schacht would like to raise taxes and switch production from armaments to something that can be sold abroad. Some hope, eh? If Hitler and Goering have to choose between their armament program and the laws of economics, which do you think theyll choose?

    But if the economy is in