Every Man Dies Alone (42 page)

“They’ve been stolen off me! A gang of youths attacked me and stole all my money! You can pat me down from top to toe, Inspector, I’m only carrying a few marks that I happened to keep in my waistcoat!”

“One obviously can’t entrust money to you, Borkhausen,” says the Inspector sorrowfully. “You don’t look after it properly. How can a great big man like you get mugged by a gang of youths!”

Borkhausen starts begging again, demanding, wheedling, but the Inspector—they are back at Viktoria Luise Platz by now—commands: “All right, Borkhausen, that’s enough. Go home now!”

“But Inspector, you promised me…”

“And if you don’t go down into the subway right now, I’ll hand you over to that constable! He can take you in for blackmail.”

With those words, the Inspector makes for the policeman, and Borkhausen, angry Borkhausen, the would-be criminal, who always manages to get separated from the loot moments after finishing the job, Borkhausen quits the scene. (Just you watch out, Kuno-Dieter, when I get home!)

The Inspector has a word with the policeman, he identifies himself and instructs him to arrest Anna Schönlein, and hold her at the station, for: “Well, let’s just say for listening to enemy radio stations. I don’t want her questioned. Someone from the Gestapo will be along for her in the morning. Evening, Constable!”

“Heil Hitler, Inspector!”

“Well now,” says the Inspector, heading down Motzstrasse in the direction of Nollendorfplatz. “What shall we do now? I’m hungry. Normally I have something to eat round about now. You know what, why don’t I treat you to dinner? I take it you won’t be in any great rush to get back to Gestapo headquarters. I’m afraid our catering isn’t of the best, and the worst thing is people are so forgetful, they sometimes don’t bring you anything for two or three days. Not even water. Poor organization. What do you say, Herr Kluge?”

Amidst such quips, the Inspector brings the now totally bewildered Kluge to a small wine bar, where he seems to be a regular. The Inspector has a good meal, the food is excellent, with wine and brandy, and there is real coffee, cake, and cigarettes. Over dinner Escherich explains shamelessly: “Don’t imagine I’m footing the bill for all this, Kluge! No, this is on Borkhausen. I’m paying with the money that would have gone to him. Isn’t it nice to fill up on the reward that was posted for you. A sort of poetic justice about that…”

The Inspector talks and talks, but perhaps he’s not quite as controlled as he appears. He hasn’t had much to eat, but he’s drunk quite a lot in a short time. He appears nervous, unusually fidgety. Sometimes he plays with the bread, and then he reaches for his back pocket, where he’s stowed the little pistol, darting a quick look at Kluge as he does so.

Enno sits there looking rather apathetic. He has had plenty to eat, but barely anything to drink. He is still completely bewildered, and has no idea what to make of the Inspector. Is he under arrest now, or not? Enno doesn’t get it.

Just then Escherich fills him in. “So here you are, Herr Kluge,” he says, “and I’m sure you’re wondering what to make of me. Of course I wasn’t telling the truth, I wasn’t hungry at all. I just want to kill time until ten o’clock. Because we’re going to take a little walk, and in the course of it we’ll find out what I’m going to do with you. Yes, one way or another, that’s what we’ll find out…”

The Inspector’s speech gets ever quieter, slower, more thoughtful, and Enno Kluge looks at him doubtfully. Some new devilment, he’s sure, in this planned walk at ten o’clock at night. But what? And how can he avoid it? Escherich is vigilant as all hell, he doesn’t so much as let Kluge go to the toilet by himself.

The Inspector continues: “The thing is, I can only contact my man after ten p.m. He lives out in Schlachtensee, you know, Herr Kluge. That’s what I mean by our little walk together.”

“What have I got to do with it? Do I know the man? I don’t know anyone in Schlachtensee! I’ve lived around Friedrichshain all my life…”

“I think you might know him after all, but I’d like you at least to take a look at him.”

“And if I see him, and it turns out I don’t know him, what then? What happens to me then?”

The Inspector shrugs: “We’ll see about that. I think you’ll know the man.”

Both are silent. Then Enno Kluge asks: “Is all this to do with that damned postcard story? I wish I’d never signed the statement. I shouldn’t have done you that favor, Inspector.”

“Is that so? I almost think you’re right, it would have been better for both of us if you hadn’t signed, Herr Kluge!” He looks so grimly at the other that Enno Kluge gets a fresh shock. The Inspector notices. “Now now,” he says soothingly, “we’ll see. I think we’ll have one more for the road, and then head off. I’d like to catch the last train back to town.”

Kluge stares at him in dismay. “And me?” he asks, with trembling lips. “Am I to—stay—out there?:

“You?” The Inspector laughed. “Of course you’ll be with me, Herr Kluge! What are you staring at me for with that horrified expression? I haven’t said anything that should horrify you. Of course we’ll
ride back into town together. Here’s the waiter with our schnapps. Waiter, one moment, we’ll give you our glasses to refill.”

Shortly afterwards, they were on their way to Bahnhof Zoo, to the S-Bahn. It was so dark when they got off in Schlachtensee, that they spent a few moments standing stunned outside the station. Because of the blackout, there were no lights anywhere.

“We’ll never find our way in the dark,” said Kluge timidly “Please, Inspector, can we go back! I’d rather spend the night at the Gestapo, than…”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Kluge!” the Inspector interrupted him brusquely, and pulled the little man’s arm through his. “Do you imagine I’d ride around half the night with you, only to turn back a quarter of an hour before my destination?” A little more mildly, he continued: “I can see quite well now. We need to take the side road, that’ll take us to the lake fastest…”

In silence they headed off, both feeling for obstacles with every step.

After they’d walked a little way, the air in front of them appeared to brighten.

“You see, Kluge,” said the Inspector, “I knew I could rely on my sense of direction. There’s the lake ahead of us!”

Kluge said nothing, and the two went on in silence.

It was a calm night. Everything was quiet; they passed no one. The unruffled water on the lake, which they sensed rather than saw, seemed to breathe out a dim gray light that looked as though it was returning part of the light of the day.

The Inspector cleared his throat, as thought to speak, but didn’t.

Suddenly Enno Kluge stopped. With a jerk he freed his arm from his companion’s. In an almost hysterical voice he cried: “I’m not going to take another step! Whatever you want to do to me, you can do it here as much as in fifteen minutes. No one will come to assist me! It must be midnight!”

As if to bear out his words, a clock began to strike. The clang was surprisingly close and loud in the darkness and mist. Involuntarily, the men counted the strokes.

“Eleven!” said the Inspector. “Eleven o’clock. Fully an hour till midnight. Come along, Kluge, we’ve got five more minutes ahead of us.”

And he took the other man’s arm.

Kluge broke away with surprising force: “I said I’m not going to take another step, and I’m not going to!”

His voice cracked with dread, so loudly did he shout. A startled water-fowl flew up from the reeds and labored away “Don’t shout like that!” said the Inspector angrily. “You’ll awaken the whole lake!”

Then he stopped to think: “All right, you can rest here a minute. You’ll see sense. Shall we sit down here?”

He reached for Kluge’s arm again.

Enno Kluge struck out at his hand. “I’m not letting you touch me again! You can do what you want, but don’t touch me!”

The Inspector replied harshly: “You don’t talk to me in that tone, Kluge! Who in hell do you think you are? A nasty, cowardly little bastard!”

“And you?” Kluge shouted back, “who do you think you are? You’re a killer, a low-down killer!”

What he said seemed to frighten him. He muttered: “Ach, I’m sorry, Inspector, I didn’t mean it like that…”

“It’s nerves,” said the Inspector. “You’re in the wrong life, my friend. Your nerves aren’t up to it. Well, let’s sit down on the pier. Don’t be afraid, I won’t touch you, if you’re that frightened of me.”

They approached the pier. The wood creaked when they set foot on it. “A few steps more,” said Escherich encouragingly. “It’s best we sit down at the far end. I like places like this, all surrounded by water…”

Again, Kluge stopped short. After his show of courage and resolution, he suddenly started whimpering: “I’m not going any further! Oh, have pity on me, Inspector! Don’t throw me in! I can’t swim, I’ll tell you right now! I’ve always been terrified of water! I’ll sign any paper you want! Help! Help! Hel…”

The Inspector had seized the little fellow, and carried him, wriggling, to the end of the pier. He pressed Enno’s face to his own chest so hard that he could no longer yell. He carried him down to the end of the pier, and dangled him over the water.

“If you yell once more, you bastard, I’ll throw you in!”

A deep sob escaped Enno’s throat. “I won’t yell,” he whispered. “Ach, I’m done for, just throw me in! I can’t stand it any more…”

The Inspector sat him down on the pier, and sat down beside him.

“There,” he said. “And now that you’ve seen that I could have thrown you in the lake and didn’t, you’ll agree that I’m no murderer, isn’t that right, Kluge?”

Kluge muttered inaudibly. His teeth were chattering too hard.

“Right, now listen to me. I have something to say to you. The
thing about meeting someone here in Schlachtensee for you to identify, that was hokum.”

“But why?”

“Hang on. And I know that you’re nothing to do with the author of those anonymous postcards; I thought our statement might do to buy time with my superiors, to show some semblance of a line of inquiry until I’d arrested the true culprit. I’m afraid it didn’t turn out that way. It’s you they want now, Kluge, the gentlemen of the SS, and they’re keen to question you in their own inimitable fashion. They believe the statement, and they believe you’re the author, or at the very least, the distributor of the cards. And they’ll wring that from you, they’ll wring everything they want from you with their techniques, they’ll squeeze you like an orange, and then they’ll beat your brains out, or they’ll put you on trial before the People’s Court, which comes to pretty much the same thing, only your agonies will be more drawn out.”

The Inspector paused, and the wholly terrified Kluge pressed himself trembling against him—the man he had just called a murder-er—as though seeking help from him.

“But you know it wasn’t me!” he stammered. “God’s own truth! You can’t deliver me to them, I can’t stand it, I’ll scream…”

“Of course you’ll scream,” affirmed the Inspector equably. “Of course you will. But that won’t bother them, they’ll enjoy it. You know what, Kluge, they’ll sit you down on a stool and they’ll hang a strong light in your face, and you’ll keep staring into the light, and the heat and the brightness will be like nothing you’ve ever experienced. And at the same time they will ask you questions, one man will take over from another, but no one will take over from you, however exhausted you get. Then when you fall over from exhaustion, they’ll rouse you with kicks and blows, and they’ll give you salt water to drink, and when none of that does any good, they will dislocate every bone in your hand one by one. They will pour acid on the soles of your feet…”

“Please stop, sir, oh, please stop, I can’t hear any more…”

“Not only will you hear it, you will have to suffer it, Kluge, for a day, for two, three, five days—and all the time, day and night they will give you nothing to eat, your belly will shrivel up to the size of a string bean, and you will think you can die from sheer pain. But you won’t die; once they have someone in their hands, they don’t let them go that easily. No, they will…”

“No, no, no,” screamed little Enno, holding his hands over his ears. “I don’t want to hear any more. Not one more word. I’d rather be dead!”

“Yes, I think you’re right there,” confirmed the Inspector, “you’d be better off.”

For a while, there was a profound silence between them and around them.

Then, with a shudder, little Enno said: “But I’m not going in the water…”

“No, no,” said the Inspector, speaking kindly. “Nor shall you, Kluge. You see, I’ve brought you something, this cute little pistol here. You just need to press that against your forehead—don’t be afraid, I’ll hold your hand to keep it from shaking, and then you just crook your finger ever so slightly… You won’t feel any pain, and suddenly you’ll be free from all these torments and persecutions, and you’ll have peace and quiet…”

“And liberty too,” said little Enno Kluge pensively. “That’s exactly the way you talked me into signing your statement, Inspector, you promised me liberty then too. Wonder if it’ll be true this time? What do you think?”

“But of course, Kluge. It’s the only real freedom that’s open to us mortals. Then I won’t be able to arrest you all over again, and intimidate you and torment you. No one can. You’ll be laughing…”

“And what’ll happen then, after the peace and the liberty? What do you think’ll happen then? Eh?”

“I don’t think there’s anything after that, no trial, no hell. Only peace and liberty.”

“Then what have I been alive for? Why have I had to take so much? I haven’t done anything, my life hasn’t made anyone happy, I’ve never really loved anyone.”

“Hmm,” said the Inspector, “it’s true, you haven’t been a heroic figure exactly, Kluge. And you’ve never been exactly useful either. But why think about all that now? Whatever you do now, it’s too late, whether you follow my suggestion, or whether you go back with me to the Gestapo. I tell you, Kluge, half an hour there, and you’ll be on your knees begging for someone to give you a bullet. But it will take many, many hours before they’ve tortured you out of your life…”

“No, no,” said Enno Kluge. “I’m not going to them. Give me the pistol to hold—is that the right way?”