The Extra (21 page)

With the long summer nights, she had ceased to notice where and when the sun rose and set, as it hardly seemed to move. She had run through a timeless space devoid of planets, stars.
Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.
And as if to somehow confirm her stupidity, her worthlessness, through the scrim of tears, she saw her left shoe fall apart as she stood stock-still.

She picked up the pieces of her shoe and limped off the road. There was a meadow sprinkled with flowers and a grove of trees grew at the far edge. She had to get off the road. If she met any soldiers, any convoys, they were definitely going to be Germans. Not French, not British.

“W
hat Heisenberg means when he speaks of the uncertainty principle is simply —”

“Don’t say ‘simply,’ Dieter. There is nothing simple about it.”

“All right, then. What he means is this: the more specific a particle’s position is, the more vague its speed and direction will be and vice versa.”

“Bohr himself said, I believe, that these jumps were nothing like the smooth leaps of a cat.”

“Yes, exactly — he spoke of the all-or-nothing, the baffling disappearance of matter from one orbit and an emergence into another — as if Earth, he said, suddenly materialized in Mars’s orbit — a sort of Russian roulette — pardon the pun!”

The two men laughed. Lilo, hidden in a thicket, had been listening to the men as they sat in their bathing costumes by the lake at the far edge of the meadow. She had no idea what they were talking about. They were some kind of scientists, that much she had gathered, but the more she listened to them speak, the more resonance their words seemed to have. Was she like some particle oddly and unpredictably jumping about? If only she could have materialized in the orbit of Mars rather than deep in Austria. Was she playing Russian roulette?

But did any of that really matter? Her eyes were fastened on the two men’s shoes. If only they would take another swim. The man who had made the pun about Russian roulette had small feet. His shoes would almost fit her, Lilo was sure.
Now, go swimming!
she prayed. And it was as if her words went straight to God’s ears, for instantly the two men rose up and stretched.

“Let’s go. One more dip.”

Lilo held her breath. She waited until they were perhaps six meters from the shore and then crept from her hiding place toward the shoes, which seemed to gleam in the sunlight. Just as her hands touched the leather, another hand clamped down on her shoulder and wrenched her around.

“Stop! You little thief!”

She had been flipped on her back in one swift movement. Then the man yanked her to her feet. He held her arm tightly. She did not even try to wriggle loose, for in that instant she knew she could not run another step. She collapsed. It was as if all the running had suddenly caught up with her. Every muscle felt shredded with all the miles she had run. It was over.

She must have passed out for a few seconds, but as she lay on the ground she suddenly felt drops of water sprinkling down on her.

“
Mein Gott.
She’s just a child.”

Lilo opened her eyes.

“Who are you?” said the one named Dieter.

“No one,” she mumbled. Her first thought was that the spy ruse was not going to work. She was caught. The hands on her shoulder had let up the pressure, but there was no escaping three grown men.

“B-b-but . . . but where are you from?”

“Nowhere.”

“Look, she’s skin and bones.”

She watched the three men whose faces hung over her. Two of them were crouching down near her. One remained standing. They were confused. Shock and dismay filled their eyes.

“Do you think she escaped from one of the internment camps,” said the fellow who was standing. The three of them were in their mid- to late twenties. They were nice-looking, and Lilo wondered why they were not soldiers. Perhaps they were. Two, after all, were in their bathing costumes, but the third, who was not, wore summer linen pants and a pale-yellow shirt, not a uniform. No Nazi insignias were visible.

“Not a camp. A movie.”

Now the one who had been standing crouched down closer. “What are you talking about?”

She was not sure why, since there was nothing funny, but she suddenly felt the urge to giggle. “I’m a movie star!” She paused, then added, “Well, not exactly.”

The three men exchanged nervous glances. “Is she out of her head?” one asked. That must be why she was giggling, but the next thing she knew, she was crying, making the mewling sounds of a trapped animal.

“No, Bruno. I read about this. Leni Riefenstahl’s making a movie — a drama, not a documentary.” The man who spoke began to pat Lilo’s shoulder. “No need to cry,” he said soothingly.
Every need to cry!
she wanted to shout.

“That movie she’s been making for years?” Bruno asked.

“Yes, that one. I read that she had been using Gypsies as extras.”

“Unbelievable!” the third fellow gasped.

“I just read in the paper that they had been filming in Krün.”

Then all three of the men’s jaws dropped open. “You came here from Krün!”

It was all very odd, but now she had stopped crying. Emotions batted through her like clouds on a windy day. For some inexplicable reason, she was almost enjoying their attention and admiration. “Krün. You didn’t come all the way from Krün, did you?”

She nodded slowly, and a faint smile passed over her face, a dim twinkle began to light her eyes.

“Child, you are not a movie star. You are an Olympian.” The man who spoke was the one she thought she had heard them call Frank. He had white-blond hair and very deep-set gray eyes. “Look at her feet. They are bleeding. Look at her shoes.”

“Good Christ, no wonder she wanted to steal your shoes, Dieter.”

“She’s welcome to them. But we have to get her to safety.”

Lilo could not quite believe her ears. These men wanted to help her? Could that be right? She tried to raise herself up.

“Take me to the Allies,” she gasped.

“The Allies?” All three men looked at her in astonishment.

“Now, just rest here for a minute or so,” said Bruno. Then he turned. “Dieter, get her some food. There’s still a sandwich in the rucksack.”

“But I have to get to safety . . . to the Allies,” Lilo repeated.

Dieter was back in a minute. “A sandwich, and two biscuits, and, here, an apple.”

She stared at the sandwich for a good half minute.

“Go ahead,” they cajoled. “It won’t bite you.”

“If I eat, will you take me to the Allies?” she asked. The three men looked at one another, baffled.

“Now, not too much at one time. You know if you haven’t eaten for a while, well . . .” Bruno turned to the other two. “Her stomach might not be used to it.”

Why are they not answering my question?
she thought.

They fussed over her like three mothers over a baby. She took a small nibble. “That a girl.” She swallowed the first bite, wiped a crumb from her mouth, and held it in the palm of her hand, staring at it, then looked at the three men. Holding out her hand with the crumb, she spoke so softly that they had to lean in close to hear her. “Am I one of those particles in the universe? Have I jumped, not like a cat, smoothly, but suddenly and into a new orbit — materializing in a new orbit? Am I on Mars? I want to go to the Allies. Please. Safety. Make me jump like the particles.”

The three men were stunned. “What is she talking about?” Dieter said softly. They looked at her, their faces swimming with confusion.

“You should know. You were the ones talking about all this. Not me. You must be scientists,” Lilo answered simply.

“But not magicians,” Dieter said, and touched her hair lightly.

“Y
ou have to understand. Salzburg is crawling with Gestapo. It’s not safe.”

“Well, what are we going to do, drive her to the Allied forces?”

“Please!” Lilo said from beneath the blanket they had put her under in the back of the car — although by this time she realized that driving her to the Allies was impossible.

Frank was at the wheel of the car. Dieter was in the passenger seat and Bruno in the backseat. Every now and then, Bruno would bend over and lift the edge of the blanket. “Can you breathe under there?”

“Yes, fine,” Lilo would reply.

“Well, she seems to know physics. Maybe we could pass her off as a visiting scholar,” Frank joked.

“Is that what they call it?” Lilo’s voice piped up. She was now eating the apple.

“Call what? And don’t eat too much too fast. Not good for you. Don’t want to upset your tummy.”

Lilo shook her head under the blanket in disbelief. This truly was the queerest experience she had ever had. But it was real! It was not like the movie set, where everything was fake, contrived. And these three men — Dieter, Frank, Bruno — were so funny. How could they be funny and at the same time so genuinely worried about her? Astonishing!

“Do you call all your talk about orbits and Mars and particles
physics
?”

“Yes,” Bruno answered. “We are physicists, here in Salzburg for a conference.”

“So you don’t have to be soldiers?”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Dieter finally spoke: “We serve but in a different way.”

“What do you mean?”

“As scientists, we work on things to help the Reich.”

“You mean Hitler and the war?” Lilo said.

“I suppose so,” Dieter answered. “We don’t really have much choice.”

“Don’t talk to me about choice,” Lilo replied.

“You’re wrong there,” Bruno answered almost fiercely. “We do have a choice right now, in this instant. And we have chosen to protect you. And what is most important now is that we get you to safety. Unfortunately Salzburg is not the safest place. But I have been thinking. I have a cousin, Marta, who might be able to help.”

Twenty minutes later, they came to a stop. “The marionette theater?” Dieter said.

“Yes, this is where she works.”

“She’s a puppeteer?” Frank asked.

“Among other things,” Bruno replied.

“Let’s hope she can pull some strings!” Dieter said without the slightest trace of merriment. Indeed, the three men had become very somber.

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” Bruno said. He picked up the corner of the blanket. “What is your name?”

“My name?” she searched his eyes.

“Your name, dear.”

“Lilian Friwald, but I am called Lilo.”

“Lilo, you stay still under this blanket.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Can you believe it?” Dieter said. “Here it is, the middle of the music festival, and you see more swastikas than you can shake a stick at, and the best artists banished — Reinhardt, Toscanini. The whole festival is being sucked into the propaganda machine.”

“I heard they are going to ban the word
festival
and call it
Salzburger Theater- und Musiksommer,
Salzburg Summer of Theater and Music.”

“What’s in a name? as Shakespeare said — crap by any other name would still stink,” Frank muttered.

“I thought it was a rose,” Lilo whispered.

“You studied Shakespeare, Lilo?” Dieter asked, turning around.

“Once — so long ago, in school in Vienna.” The two men grew very still. She heard one of them sigh. She thought it was Dieter.