She shooed him away then watched him climb the ladder and wave from the hatch.
“What are you doing?” Alex said.
“I’ve been thinking too. I’m going to stay.” She turned to him. “With you.”
“Don’t forget why we’re doing this.”
“I know. To protect me. But this way, we protect each other.”
“And when they find Markovsky?”
“Maybe they never do. And why should it be me? I’m the last one to do it. What am I now? Someone they can paw under the table. No one to say-”
“Irene.”
“Don’t you want me to stay?” She leaned forward, her mouth at his ear. “You didn’t love her. Not like me,” she said, her breath running through him. “It’s what you wanted.”
“You can’t.”
“And me. It’s what I want. Do you know when I knew? After the checkpoint, on the road, when I saw the car pass. I thought, what if he doesn’t stop? Just keeps going. What then? Go back to the guard, be what he thought? And Frankfurt, will that be any different? Passed from one to the next. And not so young anymore. So maybe not a Sasha. Just some-” She pulled her head back, looking at him. “You’re my last chance. I saw it. So clear. Maybe that’s why you came back. You didn’t know it. But maybe that’s why. Someone who still loves me. We can love each other.”
“Until there’s someone else.”
“You want to wrap up the good-byes over there?” the soldier shouted.
“That’s what you think?” she said. “That I want that life?” She looked up. “It’s a kind of love anyway, isn’t it? The kind we have.” She leaned forward again, at his ear. “I’ll make it be enough for you.” The old voice, the way she used to sound, just the two of them. My last chance.
He pulled back, suddenly light-headed, weightless. What Campbell wanted. Markus. Stay close. “You have to go,” he said.
“Oh, have to,” she said, a von Bernuth toss of the head. “It’s safe if we’re together.” She put her hand on his chest. “We’ll be together.” The only thing he’d ever wanted.
“Now or never,” the soldier yelled.
They headed straight west on Dudenstrasse, passing over S-Bahn tracks and the Anhalter station yards. The bridge’s walls were bomb damaged, patched with lumber rails, the street lined with ruined commercial buildings, another wasteland. For a while they were quiet, letting the air settle around them.
“We can still get you out,” he said finally. “Another plane.”
“To Frankfurt? And what’s my life there?” She lit a cigarette. “Anyway, it’s done.”
“They’ll still want to talk to you.”
“Like before. I know. But then it’s over. You’re important to them. You have privileges. Not just payoks. A certain respect. They don’t want to offend you.”
“That’s how it works?”
She glanced over at him. “Everywhere, I think.”
“And Erich’s interview?”
“I don’t know. What do we say about that? RIAS taking advantage of a sick boy. I wish he had come to see me first, ask me what to do. But he didn’t. And now he’s gone.”
Alex said nothing, then glanced at his watch. “The play should be over. Unless they’re still taking curtain calls.”
“You’re still worried? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Nothing.”
“I thought you would be happy.” She turned to him. “We can have a life.”
“With all my privileges.”
“Yes, why not? It’s hard now. Without privileges.” She drew on the cigarette. “It’s not just that.”
“I’m not Markovsky.”
“No. You love me.”
“I mean I can’t protect you from them. I’m not Karlshorst.”
“Well, but clever. You’ll make a story for us.”
He looked at her. Another story.
RIAS was a brand-new office building, horseshoe shaped and open at the back, its curved prow sticking into a small quiet square that seemed more intersection than Platz. One long side of the building bordered the park behind the Rathaus Schöneberg, pitch dark now, the only light coming from a few RIAS windows and the bulb over the entrance door. The one café in the square was closed. Alex drove past the back entrance gate and parked in the shadow of the shuttered café opposite the front door.
“What are we doing?” Irene said.
“Waiting. Ferber said to go to the back, so we’ll use the front.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“But who’s around him? Just in case. I don’t want to leave the tape if he’s not here. So we wait.”
“How will you know it’s him?”
“Who else comes to work this late? We’ll see him pull in. The play must be over. Just a few minutes.”
Headlights. A car approaching along the park side then stopping short of the turnoff for the back gate.
“Why is it parking there?” Irene said.
“I don’t know. To watch maybe. They’d want to grab Erich before he gets in the building.”
“But he’s not here.”
“They don’t know that. Everybody’s expecting the interview. As planned. Just wait. See if they get out of the car.”
“Or if they’re like us,” Irene said, reaching for another cigarette.
“No, don’t. They might see the match.”
“You really think-?”
“I don’t know, but they’re still in the car.”
It was a long ten minutes before more headlights appeared, moving fast, then turned to the back gate, a few people getting out, heading toward the building as the driver parked the car.
“That must be Ferber. It’s a station car. Let’s give him a few minutes.”
“The other car’s still there.”
“Waiting for Erich.”
“You’re so sure.”
“No. Careful.”
“Ouf. Then let me. I’ll give him the tape and we’re finished.”
“No. Ferber’s expecting me. You had nothing to do with this. You want to be able to say that. No idea what Erich was doing. Remember?”
“And if I knew? What then?”
“You’d need Sasha. And he isn’t here anymore.”
He reached up, fiddling with the overhead light.
“Now what?”
“It goes on when you open the door. They’d see. Okay, sit tight and keep an eye on them. If there’s any trouble, start blowing the horn.”
“You’re serious. You think they-?”
“They’re still there, aren’t they?”
He opened the door and crept out, still in the café’s shadow, then crossed the square on the lower side, away from the park. When he reached the front steps and the overhead light, he climbed quickly, the envelope jammed under his arm.
A reception desk off the foyer, on the other side a waiting room with magazines.
“Yes, please?” the receptionist said, surprised to see someone at this hour.
“Herr Ferber. I have an appointment.”
“Herr Ferber’s at the theater.”
“He just came in. Call him. Studio one-ten. Tell him his interview is here.”
The receptionist picked up the phone, put out and hesitant, but Ferber responded immediately and came running down the hall.
“But where is-?”
Alex handed him the tape. “He’s here. Splice in questions or just run it with an intro. It’s just what you want-everything we said.”
“But where-?”
“Safe. I couldn’t take the chance.” He touched the envelope. “It’s the real thing. I guarantee it.”
“Thank you,” Ferber said, putting his hand on Alex’s arm. “I’m not sure why you’re doing this, but I thank you.”
“They’re Germans in the mines.”
“You should come over to us,” Ferber said, almost offhand.
Alex met his eyes for a second, then looked down the hall. “Is there another door? That way?” he said, nodding away from the park side.
“Mettestrasse, yes,” he said, his voice careful, the way you talk to a drunk. “There’s some trouble?”
“No. But it’s bright out there. Why give anyone a look.”
“I won’t forget this.”
“You have to. I was never here.”
“Just a messenger.”
“That’s right. A boy.”
They’d reached the side door.
“Listen tomorrow,” Ferber said, holding up the tape. “You’ll thank him? He’s brave to do this.”