"I have nothing else to do. I could wait for you."
"Of course," Ernst said. "Have you money, David? There is some in the house. I will tell Sarah to get you something to eat..."
"I have money, thank you. And I had an enormous Argentinean lunch before I came here."
He thinks I am a refugee. I am, but not the way he thinks.
"I can't leave here now. I will come, we will come, as soon as we can. Would you put Sarah on the telephone?"
Inge sobbed and dabbed at her eyes when she embraced him, but quickly recovered and announced, "We will have a coffee, David. Like old times."
She motioned with her head for Sarah to come with her, and went into the kitchen, leaving Klausner and Ettinger alone.
"So, David," Klausner said. "You are really all right? You need nothing?"
"Nothing, but I thank you for the thought."
Klausner smiled. "You look prosperous. Can I ask? Did you bring anything out?"
"My Spanish cousins have been more than generous; and so far, I understand, they have kept the business from being sold to some deserving National Socialist." He paused, then decided he could, should, tell Klausner everything. "I sold my interest in the German businesses to them. Technically, they are now owned by Spaniards. Germany has yet to expropriate Spanish-held property."
"And you're now living in Spain?"
"No. In the United States. Ernst, not for Inge's ears, I am in the American Army." He paused and chuckled. "I am a staff sergeant in the United States Army."
Ettinger expected surprise at that announcement, but not the look of total bafflement that came to Klausner's face.
"I was working in New York City," Ettinger went on. "When I went to America, I took the exaMi?ation for radio engineer, and I was working for RCA, the Radio Corporation of America... you know the name Sarnoff, Ernst, David Sarnoff? A Russian, a Jew, one of the great geniuses of radio... ?"
"Why did you leave Spain?" Klausner interrupted.
The question surprised Ettinger.
"I didn't, I don't, trust Franco," he said. "It is only a matter of time before he joins the-Axis. I'm surprised it hasn't happened already. What happened in Germany will happen in Spain."
Klausner closed his eyes and shook his head, as if shocked and saddened by Ettinger's stupidity.
"Franco is not as bad as you think, David," he said.
What the hell is that all about? Franco isEl Caudillo only because of the Germans, their Condor Legion, and all their other military support. He is as much a fascist as Mussolini and Hitler. But this is not the time to debate that.
"I was working for RCA, and I registered for the draft..."
"The what?"
"Military service, conscription," Ettinger explained. "And Mr. SarnoffErnst, you must know who he is. He worked with Marconi ..."
Klausner was obviously wholly uninterested in a Russian Jew named Sarnoff, radio pioneer and genius or not. And Ettinger realized his attitude annoyed him.
"Mr. Sarnoff called me to his office. He said my work was essential to the war effort, and I did not have to go into the Army; all I had to say was that I did not wish to go, and he would arrange it"
"So why are you in the American Army?" Klausner asked.
"I told Mr. Sarnoff that I wished to be an American citizen, and that I felt it my duty to serve."
There he goes, shaking his head again. Or has his head ever stopped shaking, as if he is dealing with a pitiful idiot?
"And Mr. Sarnoff said to me, I know how you feel. I myself am going in the Army. And he told me when the war is over, I will not only have my job back, but that while I am in the Army, RCA will pay the difference between my Army pay and what I was making at RCA."
"If the Americans win the war," Klausner said.
"There is no 'if,' Ernst," Ettinger said. "The Americans will win."
Klausner shrugged.
Why am I growing so angry?
"When I was in an Army school in Baltimore," Ettinger said, "I was taken, Ernst, to a shipyard in Kearny, New Jersey, which is right across the river from New York City. They are building one ship a day in that shipyard, Ernst. It takes them three weeks to build a ship. Every day, seven days a week, they launch a ship. And they told us they were not up to speed."
"What?"
"Up to speed. It means that soon they will be making two ships a day, or three, or even four. And that is not their only shipyard. They haveI don't know, ten, twenty shipyards, maybe more. Germany cannot make enough torpedoes to sink that many ships."
Klausner shrugged again.
"On the way to Kearny, we passed the airport in Newark. It is biggerthree or four times the size of Tempelhofand as far as I could see, enormous bombers were about to be flown to England. Not shipped, Ernst, flown."
Klausner held up his hand to silence him. Ettinger followed his eyes. Inge was coming into the room with a tray.
"They are worse than the Viennese here," she said, putting the tray down in front of him. It held an assortment of pastries. "They take a Viennese recipe. If it says 'six eggs,' they use twelve. If it says 'one cup of sugar,' they use two. And the meat!"
"The meat is incredible," Klausner agreed. "Cheap. Marvelous."
Sarah put a coffee service on a low table. Inge poured coffee, handed cups to Ettinger and her husband, then started to pour a cup for herself.
"Liebchen," Klausner said. "Why don't you take Sarah for a little walk?"
It was said softly, but it was an order. She put the pot down and smiled.
"We will talk later, David," she said. "You'll stay for supper, of course."
"We will talk," Ettinger agreed.
"I am so happy that you are here," Inge said.
"I am so happy to see you all," Ettinger said.
Klausner waited until his wife and daughter had left the house.
"If you are in the American Army," he challenged, "what are you doing in Buenos Aires, not in a uniform?"
"That, Ernst, I cannot talk about."
"You are a spy."
Ettinger laughed. "No. A spy? No."
"I don't believe you," Klausner said. "I understand why you feel you must lie to me, David, but I don't believe you."
"I am sure wewe Americanshave spies here, but I am not one of them."
"What are you doing here?"
"I cannot tell you."
"A spy by another name. You are playing word games."
"I am here to harm the Germans, Ernst."
"Yes, of course you are. Thank you for your honesty."
"Not the Germans. The Nazis."
"Word games again. There is no difference between them. You should know that You do know that."
This time Ettinger shrugged.
"Let me tell you about the Argentineans, David. We Argentineans. I am not a German anymore. I speak the language. I read Goethe and Schiller, I eat apfelstrudel. But I am no longer a German. I am an Argentinean."
"You are also a Jew."
"I am an Argentinean who happens to be a Jew."
"You are a German Jew who has lost his life and his family to the Nazis."
"I am an Argentinean whose family, Inge and Sarah, has been saved by the Argentineans. I am an Argentinean. I became an Argentinean. I swore to defend this country, David, to obey its laws. Argentina is neutral. I want nothing to do with a spy from the United States of America or anywhere else."