Zoo Station by David Downing Page A
Authors: David Downing
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Americans, Historical, Mystery & Detective, Espionage, Mystery, Germany, Fiction - Mystery, Journalists, Mystery & Detective - General, Berlin, spies, spy stories, Journalists - Germany - Berlin, Recruiting, Germany - History - 1933-1945, Americans - Germany - Berlin, Spies - Recruiting
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real trouble?
Nothing a war wont fix.
Ah.
Ah, indeed. Schacht, shall we say, has the narrow view. Hes assuming several years of peace, at the very least. Hitler, on the other hand, sees a choice. He can either do what Schacht wantsrein in the war machine, raise taxes, and get the real economy moving againor he can go for broke, and use the army to put things right. He sees all that wealth beyond his borders, just begging to be collected. Thats why Schacht has to go. Hitlers not going to risk higher taxes in Germany when he can steal the same money from conquered foreigners.
McKinley looked at him. I never know how serious you are. If this is such a big storySchacht going, I meanthen why isnt it on the front pages back home? If wars so absolutely certain, how come youre the only one who knows it?
Russell smiled. Just gifted, I guess. Another beer?
When he got back from the bar, McKinley was making notes in his little black book. Was your dance night a one-off, or are you going out with that girl from the embassy? Russell asked him.
McKinley blushed. Weve only been out twice. Merle, her name isyou know, like Merle Oberon. Her fathers just a storekeeper in Philadelphia but shes determined to really see life. She wants to see Europe while shes working here, and then the rest of the world if she can.
Good for her.
Youve traveled a lot, havent you?
Once upon a time.
Have you been to Russia?
Yes. I met my wife theremy ex-wife, I should say. At a Comintern youth conference in 1924. Lenin had just died and Trotsky hadnt noticed that the rug was gone from under his feet. It was a strange time, a sort of revolutionary cuspnot the moment it all went wrong, but the moment a lot of Party people realized that it already had. Does that make sense?
I suppose. Im hoping to go in March. The nineteenth Congress is being held in Moscow and Im trying to persuade the paper to send me.
Thatll be interesting, Russell said, though he doubted it would be.
Neither of them wanted another drink, and the nuts were all gone. It was raining outside, and they stood for a moment in the doorway, watching the neon shimmers in the puddles. As they passed under the elevated tracks a Warschauer Brucke train rumbled across, its sides streaming with water.
At the bottom of Lindenstrasse McKinley took a look back across the Belle Alliance Platz. I think Im being followed, he said, almost guiltily, in response to Russells inquiring look.
I cant see anyone, said Russell, staring into the rain.
No, neither can I, McKinley said, as they started up Lindenstrasse. Its more of a feeling. . . . I dont know. If they are following me, theyre really good.
Too many Thin Man movies, Russell thought. Whos they ? he asked.
Oh, the Gestapo, I suppose.
Moving like wraiths isnt exactly the Gestapo style.
No, I suppose not.
Why would they be following you?
McKinley grunted. That story I told you about. That story I was going to tell you about, he corrected himself.
Im not sure I want to know anymore, Russell said. I dont want them following me.
It was meant as a joke, but McKinley didnt take it that way. Well, okay. ...
Russell was thinking about the car hed seen outside their block. He couldnt imagine the Gestapo being that patient, but there were other sharks in the Nazi sea. Look, Tyler. Whatever it is, if you really are being stalked by the authorities I should just drop it. No storys worth that sort of grief.
McKinley bristled. Would you have said that ten years ago?
I dont know. Ten years ago I didnt have the responsibilities I have now.
Maybe you should ask yourself whether you can still be an honest journalist with those sorts of responsibilities.
That made Russell angry. You havent cornered the market in honest journalism, for Gods sake.
Of course not. But I know what matters. That once mattered to you.
Truth has a habit of seeping out. Russell wasnt even convincing himself, which made him angrier still. Look,
Nothing a war wont fix.
Ah.
Ah, indeed. Schacht, shall we say, has the narrow view. Hes assuming several years of peace, at the very least. Hitler, on the other hand, sees a choice. He can either do what Schacht wantsrein in the war machine, raise taxes, and get the real economy moving againor he can go for broke, and use the army to put things right. He sees all that wealth beyond his borders, just begging to be collected. Thats why Schacht has to go. Hitlers not going to risk higher taxes in Germany when he can steal the same money from conquered foreigners.
McKinley looked at him. I never know how serious you are. If this is such a big storySchacht going, I meanthen why isnt it on the front pages back home? If wars so absolutely certain, how come youre the only one who knows it?
Russell smiled. Just gifted, I guess. Another beer?
When he got back from the bar, McKinley was making notes in his little black book. Was your dance night a one-off, or are you going out with that girl from the embassy? Russell asked him.
McKinley blushed. Weve only been out twice. Merle, her name isyou know, like Merle Oberon. Her fathers just a storekeeper in Philadelphia but shes determined to really see life. She wants to see Europe while shes working here, and then the rest of the world if she can.
Good for her.
Youve traveled a lot, havent you?
Once upon a time.
Have you been to Russia?
Yes. I met my wife theremy ex-wife, I should say. At a Comintern youth conference in 1924. Lenin had just died and Trotsky hadnt noticed that the rug was gone from under his feet. It was a strange time, a sort of revolutionary cuspnot the moment it all went wrong, but the moment a lot of Party people realized that it already had. Does that make sense?
I suppose. Im hoping to go in March. The nineteenth Congress is being held in Moscow and Im trying to persuade the paper to send me.
Thatll be interesting, Russell said, though he doubted it would be.
Neither of them wanted another drink, and the nuts were all gone. It was raining outside, and they stood for a moment in the doorway, watching the neon shimmers in the puddles. As they passed under the elevated tracks a Warschauer Brucke train rumbled across, its sides streaming with water.
At the bottom of Lindenstrasse McKinley took a look back across the Belle Alliance Platz. I think Im being followed, he said, almost guiltily, in response to Russells inquiring look.
I cant see anyone, said Russell, staring into the rain.
No, neither can I, McKinley said, as they started up Lindenstrasse. Its more of a feeling. . . . I dont know. If they are following me, theyre really good.
Too many Thin Man movies, Russell thought. Whos they ? he asked.
Oh, the Gestapo, I suppose.
Moving like wraiths isnt exactly the Gestapo style.
No, I suppose not.
Why would they be following you?
McKinley grunted. That story I told you about. That story I was going to tell you about, he corrected himself.
Im not sure I want to know anymore, Russell said. I dont want them following me.
It was meant as a joke, but McKinley didnt take it that way. Well, okay. ...
Russell was thinking about the car hed seen outside their block. He couldnt imagine the Gestapo being that patient, but there were other sharks in the Nazi sea. Look, Tyler. Whatever it is, if you really are being stalked by the authorities I should just drop it. No storys worth that sort of grief.
McKinley bristled. Would you have said that ten years ago?
I dont know. Ten years ago I didnt have the responsibilities I have now.
Maybe you should ask yourself whether you can still be an honest journalist with those sorts of responsibilities.
That made Russell angry. You havent cornered the market in honest journalism, for Gods sake.
Of course not. But I know what matters. That once mattered to you.
Truth has a habit of seeping out. Russell wasnt even convincing himself, which made him angrier still. Look,
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