Every Man Dies Alone (37 page)

Into this silence walked the first customer of the day, a long tall man, who said to Frau Haberle, “Morning, lady. I see you have a pair of canaries in the window, and I was wondering how much they were. They have to be a mating pair, though, I’ve always been one for mating pairs…” And Borkhausen spun round, in a show of surprise—a deliberately badly acted show of surprise—and called out to Kluge, who was just slipping off into the back room of the shop, “Well, I’m damned if it isn’t you, Enno! Here I am, I’m talking, I’m looking, I’m thinking that’s not my Enno, what would my Enno be doing in a little pocket zoo like this? And it’s you all along. Whatcher doing, pal?”

Enno, the doorknob already in his hand, stood frozen, unable either to run off or to make some reply.

But Hetty stared at the tall man, who had addressed her Enno with such intimate friendliness. Her lips began to tremble, and her knees shook. So there it was, the danger; it wasn’t a lie that Enno had
told her about being threatened by the Gestapo. Because she didn’t question for a moment that this man—half-thug, half-coward—was from the Gestapo.

But now that the danger was physically at hand, it was only physically that Hetty shook. Her mind was calm, and what her mind said was, Whatever you think of Enno, you can’t possibly abandon him now.

And Hetty said to the man with the piercing regard that kept sliding away, she said to the man who looked like a real hoodlum, “Perhaps you’ll have a cup of coffee with us, Herr—what did you say your name was?”

“Borkhausen. Emil Borkhausen,” the spy introduced himself. “I’m an old friend of Enno’s, a fellow sportsman. What do you say, Frau Haberle, to that grand win he landed on Adebar yesterday? We met at the sports bar—didn’t he say?”

Hetty threw a quick glance in Enno’s direction. He was still standing there, with his hand on the doorknob, exactly as he had been when first surprised by Borkhausen’s greeting. No, he hadn’t mentioned this meeting with an old acquaintance; he had even claimed he hadn’t seen anyone he knew. So he had lied to her again—and very much to his own detriment, because now it was quite clear how this spy had traced him to his refuge with her. If he had said anything about the encounter yesterday, it might have been possible to hide him somewhere else…

But this wasn’t the moment to take issue with Enno Kluge or to upbraid him for lying. This was the time to act. And so she said again, “Well then, Herr Borkhausen, let’s have a cup of coffee, shall we? I don’t have many customers so early in the morning. Enno, will you keep an eye on the shop? I’m just going to have a chat with your friend…”

By now, Hetty had completely stopped trembling. All she thought about was how it had been that other time, with her Walter, and those memories gave her strength. She knew that no amount of trembling, protesting, or appeals for help cut any ice with these people. They had no hearts: they were the paid helpers of Hitler and Himmler. If anything did help, then it was courage, not being cowardly, not showing fear. They worked on the assumption that all Germans were cowards, like Enno, now, but she, Hetty, the widow Haberle, she wasn’t.

Her calm demeanor gave her authority over both men. As she went into the parlor, she said to Enno: “Don’t play any silly tricks, now! Don’t try and run off or anything! Remember, you’ve left your
coat hanging in the parlor, and you won’t have much in the way of money on you either!”

“You’re a clever woman,” said Borkhausen, as he sat down at the table and accepted a cup of coffee. “And you’re tough with it. I wouldn’t have thought that of you the first time I laid eyes on you, last night.”

Their eyes met.

“Well,” Borkhausen added, “actually you were pretty tough yesterday too, shutting the door in his face as he was slithering about on his knees. I don’t supposed you let him in later either, or did you?”

A little blush suffused into Hetty’s cheeks at the pert suggestion. To think that yesterday’s horrid scene had had a witness, and such a repulsive one at that! But she quickly got a grip on herself, and said: “I expect you’re a clever man yourself, Herr Borkhausen, but let’s not beat about the bush. You’re here on business, I take it?”

“Maybe, maybe, who knows…” Borkhausen hemmed and hawed, a little intimidated by the speed with which the woman was moving forward.

“So,” Hetty resumed, “you want to buy a pair of canaries. I expect you’d then let them go. Because if they stay in their cage, it’s not much use to them…”

Borkhausen scratched his head. “Frau Haberle,” he said, “this thing with the canaries is over my head. I’m a simple man; you’re probably much more sophisticated than I am. I only hope you don’t trick me.”

“Nor you me!”

“How would I do that! Let me be perfectly open with you, with no more talk about canaries and such. I’ll give it you straight, the whole truth. I’ve got instructions from the Gestapo, from Inspector Escherich, if that’s a name you’re conversant with?” Hetty shook her head. “My instructions are to track down Enno. That’s all. Why and what for, I’ve no idea. I want to say this to you, Frau Haberle, I’m a perfectly straightforward, honest human being…”

He leaned across to her; she looked piercingly into his eyes. Then his look, the look of the straightforward, honest human being, wandered off.

“I was surprised by my instruction, too, let me tell you, Frau Haberle. Because we both of us know what sort of man Enno is, namely a dud, with nothing in his head except a bit to do with racing and a bit to do with women. And it’s this Enno that the Gestapo want, the political department and all, where it’s all high treason and off-with
his-head. I don’t understand it—do you understand it?” He looked at her expectantly. Again their eyes met, and the same thing happened: he couldn’t hold her look.

“Go on, Herr Borkhausen,” she said, “I’m listening…”

“Clever woman!” nodded Borkhausen. “Damned clever woman, and tough with it. That episode yesterday with the man on his knees…”

“I thought this was about business, Herr Borkhausen!”

“I’m a good, upright German citizen, which you may be surprised to hear, given that I’m with the Gestapo. As you might think. That’s where you’re wrong, Frau Haberle. I’m not with the Gestapo, I just sometimes do odd jobs for them, that’s all. A man wants to live, isn’t that right? And I’ve got five kids at home, the oldest of them just barely thirteen. And I’ve got to keep them all fed…”

“Stick to business, if you please, Herr Borkhausen!”

“No, Frau Haberle, I’m not with the Gestapo, I’m an honest man. And when I hear that they’re looking for my pal Enno, and offering a sizable reward for finding him, and I know Enno from old times, and I’m his true friend—then, Frau Haberle, then I thought, Well, isn’t that something, they’re looking for Enno! The little worm. If I happened to find him, I thought, then I could tip him the wink, you know, Frau Haberle, and he can vamoose while there’s still time. And I said to Inspector Escherich, ‘Don’t you worry about Enno, I’ll catch him for you, because he’s an old friend of mine.’ And then I got the instruction and my expenses, and here I am with you, Frau Haberle, and Enno’s working in the shop, and everything’s coming up roses…”

For a moment they were both silent, Borkhausen expectantly, Frau Haberle reflectively.

Then she said, “You haven’t told the Gestapo anything yet?”

“Ooh, no, I’m in no hurry with them, they’ll only mess up my game!” He corrected this to, “Of course I wanted to tip my old friend Enno the wink…”

Once again they were silent. Finally Hetty asked: “And what sort of reward did the Gestapo offer you?”

“A thousand marks! It’s a load of money for such a worm as Enno, I admit that, Frau Haberle, I was startled myself. But Inspector Escherich said to me: ‘If you bring in that Kluge, I’ll pay you a thousand marks.’ That’s what Escherich said to me. And he approved expenses for me of another hundred marks, which I’ve got already. That’s on top of the thousand marks.”

They sat there pensively for a long time.

Then Hetty began, “I meant what I said about the canaries before, Herr Borkhausen. Because if I were to pay you a thousand marks…”

“Two thousand marks, Frau Haberle, among friends it’s always two thousand marks. And then the hundred expenses on top of that…”

“Well, if I was to pay you that, and you know Herr Kluge hasn’t got any money, and nothing ties me to him…”

“Frau Haberle, Frau Haberle, please! You’re a highly respectable woman. You won’t want to hand over your friend who was on his knees before you, to the Gestapo, and all for a little bit of money! Where I’ve told you that anything’s possible, with the high treason and the off-with-his-head? You wouldn’t do that, Frau Haberle, I know you better than that!”

She could have told him that he, the simple, decent German man, was in the process of doing exactly what she, the highly respectable woman, was not allowed to do, namely sell his friend down the river. But she knew that remarks like that were pointless, and didn’t impress such gentlemen.

And so in the end she said, “All right, but if I were to pay you two thousand one hundred, what guarantee is there that the canaries will be released from their cage?” When she saw him scratch his head again, she decided to be completely brazen. “Put it another way: What’s my guarantee that you won’t take my money and then go to Escherich and take his as well?”

“But I’m your guarantee, Frau Haberle! I give you my word: I am a simple straightforward human being, and if I make a promise, I keep it. You saw the way I went straight to Enno to warn him, at the risk of him doing a runner out of the shop. And if he had, my whole plan would be up the spout.”

Frau Haberle looked at him with a thin smile. “That’s all well and good, Herr Borkhausen,” she said. “But just because you’re such a good friend of Enno’s, you’ll understand why I have to have every reassurance of his safety. If I can even raise so much money.”

Borkhausen made a pooh-poohing gesture, as though suggesting that a woman like herself would never be short.

“No, no, Herr Borkhausen,” Hetty went on, because she could see he had no sense of irony, and that she had to be completely plain with him, “who is to guarantee to me that you don’t take my money now…”

Borkhausen got very excited at the prospect of receiving the dizzying sum of two thousand marks, more money than he had ever seen in his life…

“…and there’s a Gestapo agent standing outside the door, who will simply arrest Enno? I require other guarantees from you!”

“But there isn’t anyone standing outside the door, Frau Haberle, I swear! I’m an honest man, why should I lie to you? I’ve come straight from home, you can ask my Otti, if you like!”

She interrupted him in his excitement: “Well, what other forms of guarantee can you give me—other than your word?”

“There aren’t any! It’s a business, it’s based on trust. And surely you’ll trust me, Frau Haberle, when I’ve spoken to you so frankly!”

“Yes, trust…” began Frau Haberle vaguely, and then they both lapsed into another long silence, he simply waiting for her to decide, she racking her brain as to how to obtain at least a modicum of security.

In the meantime, Enno Kluge, content to mind the shop. He served the now more numerous clientele promptly and not unskillfully, even managing a joke every now and again. The first shock he had felt at the sight of Borkhausen had now dissipated. Hetty was in the parlor, talking to Borkhausen, and she would surely be able to sort it out. Meanwhile, the fact that she was sorting it out, that was proof, if proof were needed, that she was never in earnest about her threat to send Enno away. So he felt relieved, and in his relief he was able to crack jokes again.

In the parlor, Frau Haberle at long last broke the silence. Resolutely, she said, “All right, Herr Borkhausen, I’ve had a think. I want to make a deal with you on the following conditions…”

“All right… Go on, tell me!” said Borkhausen, avidly. He felt he was very close to getting his money.

“I will give you two thousand marks, but I won’t give them to you here. I’ll give them to you in Munich!”

“In Munich?” He goggled stupidly. “I’m not going to Munich! What on earth would I do in Munich?”

“We’re going to go to the post office now, you and I,” she continued, “and I will draw a postal order for two thousand marks, payable to you in the main post office in Munich. And then I will see you to the station, and you will board the next train to Munich, where you will pick up your money. At the Anhalter Bahnhof, I will give you another two hundred marks for the journey, in addition to your ticket…”

“No!” Borkhausen exclaimed angrily. “I’m not doing that. I’m not agreeing to something like that. I’ll get down to Munich only to find out you’ve canceled the order at the post office!”

“When we go, I will give you my payment receipt, and then it won’t be possible for me to cancel it.”

“And Munich!” he cried. “What’s the point of Munich! We’re honest people here! Why not here and now, in the shop, and have done with it? Munich and back will take me at least two days and a night, and by then Enno will have gone God knows where!”

“But Herr Borkhausen, that was what we had agreed, and that’s what I’m giving you the money for! The canary isn’t to stay in his cage. Enno’s supposed to get a chance to hide somewhere. That’s what the two thousand marks are for!”

Borkhausen didn’t really have an answer to that, but sullenly he said anyway: “And I get a hundred in expenses as well!”

“You’ll get them as well. In cash. All at the station.”

But not even that could sweeten Borkhausen’s mood. He remained sullen: “Munich! I’ve never heard such nonsense in my life! It was all so simple—and now Munich! Why Munich, for Christ’s sake? Why not just say London and have done with it, so I can go there when the war’s over! It’s all messed up! It could have been so simple, but no, you wanted to go and complicate it! And why? Because you have no trust in your fellow men, because you’ve got a suspicious mind, Frau Haberle! I was so straight with you…”

“And I’m being straight with you! Those are my terms, and nothing else!”

“Well!’ he said. “Then I can go.” He got up and picked up his cap. But he didn’t go. “I’m absolutely not going to Munich…”