Kino (14 page)

“Hooking up?”

“Fucking.”

It worked: Dr. Hanno blushed. He was sweating hard.

Mina turned to him. “Now, who the hell are these goons, and why are they after me? I don't even have the movie anymore.”

“I'm not sure,” Dr. Hanno said. “There are a number of possibilities, none of them good. You'd be surprised by the lengths certain parties will go to to protect intellectual property.”

“
Certain parties?
”

“Powerful corporate interests. The entertainment–industrial complex. No one takes movies as seriously as you Americans.”

Mina shook her head. “What do they want from me? That movie just appeared out of nowhere, and it's gone again. I don't know anything.”

“In a word, copyright. To them, old ideas are like fossil fuel. These days, everything is a potential franchise, and they treat intellectual property as a non-renewable resource. Ever notice how every new movie these days seems to be a remake or a sequel or a reboot? Plagiarism suits are everywhere. Did you hear about the Eldred Case? Free the Mouse?”

“What mouse?” Mina wiped the sweat off her forehead.

“Mickey Mouse, of course. His copyright would have expired by now, but Disney fought tooth and nail to extend it past the original seventy years. They got what they wanted, but it left thousands of works of art inaccessible to the public domain. It's a disaster for creative production, but for these guys, it's all about control.”

“And they want to control
Tulpendiebe
, too?” The heat made it almost impossible to concentrate on Dr. Hanno's impassioned speech. Mina blinked. Sam, she remembered, was having fever dreams.

“They want to control everything. It's how they operate. They want to own history and never let go. If they get their hands on
Tulpendiebe
, it'll disappear forever in some vault.”

“But why? No one will watch this movie. It's a hundred years old. Who cares?”

“Frau Koblitz, motion pictures are produced and distributed under severe economic pressures, and they're too expensive to go freely into the world. As a matter of fact, art is never free, not in any sense of the word, and movies least of all.”

“Marxism 101, thank you, but you don't have to grow up in the GDR to know this stuff. I watch TV. I went to law school.”

“You did?”

Mina nodded. Technically, that was true, but she immediately regretted mentioning it. She would not tell him that she dropped out after half a semester. “I'm going for a dip,” she said. She left the sauna for the much cooler main room, found a rack to hang up her towel, and jumped into the cold pool, in full view of the sauna. The water felt ice cold against her skin, waking her up and clearing her head. Swimming naked felt great. She tried to make eye contact with the other bathers, looking for approval for her courage, maybe, but no one seemed to notice.

Back in the sauna, Dr. Hanno hadn't moved. He wore a peculiar face, and Mina wondered if he had a hard-on. Her towel was wet and pointless now, and she didn't even try to cover her breasts any more. For the first time, Mina felt she had an edge over Dr. Hanno. He was looking at his bare feet.

“I still don't get it,” Mina said. “If this is about copyright, why not just send me a letter or something? How did they find out about the movie in the first place?”

Dr. Hanno avoided turning his head in Mina's direction now. He cleared his throat. “Maybe the movies have been around for too long for most people to realize this anymore, but your grandfather had it exactly right: the cinema exerts the same pull as dreams. If anything, it is stronger–people pay money to subject themselves to a carefully constructed shared audio-visual experience, a guided trip if you will. That's more than just a high-stakes financial gamble–that's real power, the power to make people dream. Film is the most integrated of the arts, and they have a light side and a dark side. They can be used to liberate, and they can be used for domination. From the beginning, governments have been very interested in the power of the moving pictures.”

“You're talking about propaganda,” Mina said.

“I'm talking about
all
movies. Propaganda is the word we use for the poor examples, the obvious manipulations. The real stuff, the truly potent stuff, doesn't have a special name. We just call it
Kino
.”

“And my grandfather–”

“Your grandfather was an exceptional, uncanny talent. Remember the way he described
Nosferatu
? It altered his consciousness. When he left the theater, he was a changed person.”

Finally, Dr. Hanno turned his head to look her in the eye. “Let me ask you something. How did you sleep last night? Strange dreams?”

Mina had, in fact, had odd, vivid dreams of a beach, Sam, and the burning windmill, but she wasn't about to tell Dr. Hanno. “Dreams are private,” she said.

“Not anymore,” Dr. Hanno said grandly. “Not since the invention of the movie camera. Just because you understand the technology doesn't mean you grasp the essential mystery of it. Kino is nothing to be trifled with, and those who control it now hold no stake in our souls.” The sweat was pouring down his face.

“What pisses me off most is that these goons went and hassled Sam. Why would they do that?”

“To get to you.”

“He's in the
hospital.
They went into the hospital to ask him about me. My husband.”

She was more upset than she knew. Thinking about Sam got her upset.

“I used to be married,” Dr. Hanno said.

It took a moment before Mina decided she'd heard right. Dr. Hanno seemed much too young to be divorced; he was handsome and successful enough, but the look on his face told a different story. Mina asked the broadest possible question she could think of: “What happened?”

“I think she expected more from me. Writing about movies wasn't enough. She never saw the point of scholarship or criticism. She got married to a guy who manages a golf club.”

Ah
, Mina thought.
The movie geekery made her leave.
Mina wondered how she'd get along with Dr. Hanno's ex-wife. She didn't even know, really, what it meant to be a wife yet. On the other side of the sauna's glass door, a naked man emptied a bucket of ice water over his head.

“How long were you married?”

“Would have been two years in June. We just signed the papers three weeks ago. She took all the furniture.”

“Oh,” Mina said. Just three weeks ago? No wonder Hanno seemed like a zombie at times. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Dr. Hanno said. “I think we're both better off this way.”

It was one of those phrases that people cling to when there wasn't anything left to do but mourn. Mina could tell he didn't believe it himself but perhaps it was better than nothing. Still, she couldn't help thinking the look of heartbreak on his face now wasn't anything like what she had seen on his face the morning after the film had been stolen.

“She cheated on me from the start,” he added.

“I'm sorry.” Mina didn't know what else to say. Dr. Hanno was a cuckold. The movies were all that he had left. She couldn't help but feel protective of him. She placed a sympathetic hand on his leg.

Dr. Hanno, misunderstanding the gesture, leaned over to kiss her.

Mina pulled back.

“Oh–,” Dr. Hanno said, and at that moment, a strapping spa attendant in shorts and a T-shirt burst in, bearing a bucket of water, a towel, and a sardonic grin: “
Aufguss, die Herrschaften
.”

“What does that mean?” Mina asked, but she could tell from Dr. Hanno's face that it couldn't be good. The spa attendant took a wooden ladle from the bucket and repeatedly, deliberately doused the sauna's coals with water. With a cascade of hissing, the water exploded into clouds of steam. Heat and humidity skyrocketed. Mina closed her eyes and pursed her lips to cool off the burning air in her mouth. She breathed as shallowly as she could. The spa attendant put down the bucket and used a large towel to fan the air in the sauna, creating more and more heat.

Mina thought she was going to die.

The projectionist, Frank, was waiting for them by the curb, engine idling. It had started to rain, a steady freezing downpour. Mina had been too impatient to dry her hair, and she regretted it when she stepped out into the cold Berlin air. Punta Cana, that's where she was supposed to be, by the pool with a stiff Cuba Libre. They ran through the rain to the car.

Frank was wearing a leather cap pulled low over his eyes, and he nodded wordlessly when they got in. Mina took the back seat. The rain was a constant drum beat on the roof. She grabbed a handful of wet hair and squeezed water onto the seat. Then she noticed the black Mercedes. “Is that car following us?”

Dr. Hanno eyed the mirrors. “
Jawoll
. Only one of them in the car. He must have waited where they lost us.”

“
Kacke
,” Frank said. It was the first word he'd said. He hit the brakes and took a sharp left down a one-way street. Rain water splashed up on the sidewalk. The Mercedes followed, leaving a few honking cars in its wake.

“Is this now a car chase?” Mina asked, trying to be funny. It came out sounding scared.

“We're not going over the speed limit,” Dr. Hanno said, but it was clear he was tense, too. They ran a red light–more honking, squealing tires–but the black Mercedes kept up. The car was close enough now that Mina could recognize the driver as one of the men who had shouted after her on the roof.

They crossed a river by the dome of a large cathedral. The rain was churning the water. There was another red light. Frank tried to swerve around the cars in front of him and get across the intersection, but there wasn't enough room. A busload of tourists–old French people with identical umbrellas–hurried across the street. Behind them, Mina could see the goon getting out of his car. He was wearing gloves and trying to protect what looked like a manila envelope from the rain.

“
Fahr schon
,” Dr. Hanno instructed Frank, “
los
!” But Frank was helpless. He honked once, twice, and revved the engine, but the tourists didn't seem to care.

Dr. Hanno opened his door. “
Auf Wiedersehen
, Fräulein Koblitz,” he said, with a lot of drama. “Be good to your husband. For Kino!” He got out and slammed the door shut. He was immediately drenched with rain, his hair slicked to his forehead. He approached the agent, gesticulating wildly.

“What is he doing?” Mina asked, but it was obvious now: he was blocking the man's way and he, in turn, tried to push Dr. Hanno out of the way, waving towards Mina. His suit was soaked. The men locked in what looked like an embrace. Finally, the light turned green. One last woman pushed a stroller across the intersection. The man made his way around Dr. Hanno. Out of nowhere, an ancient Trabant smashed into the Mercedes. In the confusion, Mina thought she saw someone in a red leather jacket behind the wheel, but it was impossible to tell. As they pulled away, Mina watched Dr. Hanno and the man recede into the distance. Dr. Hanno give her a sad little wave.

The rain had stopped when they made it to Tempelhof Airport. “Good luck, Frau Koblitz,” was all the projectionist managed to say. Mina thanked him and he was off. For one panicked moment she looked around for her suitcase before remembering that she had abandoned it, broken, in the backyard. There was no time for an inventory now. Mina slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked through the terminal as if nothing had happened at all. She couldn't help but keep glancing over her shoulder, always expecting another suit. And hadn't she just been at the airport? She was developing a real distaste for flying. Mina was exhausted. The hour in the sauna had knocked her out. Earlier, she had practically jumped off a building. She would read the rest of Kino's journal on the flight, but first she'd sleep.

But there here was one more thing Mina had to do before she could go home. Whatever this was, it wasn't over. At the check-in counter, Mina pulled out her airline voucher and her passport. “Traveling to New York, JFK?” the woman behind the counter confirmed.