“I think there’s hot water,” she said. “And civilian clothes are in the bureau in the bedroom.”
“I must say, Margareta, you don’t seem terribly happy about all this.”
“I’ll go fix some supper. You must be very hungry.”
They ate in awkward silence in the dim, small kitchen, though the food she fixed was very good — eggs, black bread, cheese — and he felt much better after the bath.
“That’s the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”
“They gave me so much money. Your people. The black market is extensive here.”
“Yes, it certainly must be. So close to Switzerland.”
“Sometimes you can get pork and even beef and veal. And sausage of course.”
“Almost as if there’s no war.”
“Almost. But you always know there’s a war. Not from all the soldiers around, but because there’s no music. No real music. On the radio sometimes they play Wagner and that terrible fellow Korngold. But no Chopin, no Hindemith, no Mahler. I wonder what they have against Mahler. Of all our composers, his work sounds the most like battles. That’s what they like, isn’t it? Do you know? Why won’t they allow Mahler?”
Repp said he didn’t know. But he was glad to see her talking so animatedly, even if he didn’t know anything about music.
“I like Chopin so much,” she said.
“He’s very good,” Repp agreed.
“I should have brought my Gramophone down. Or my piano. But it was all so rushed. There was no time, even for a Gramophone. The piano, of course, was out of the question. Even I realized that.”
He said nothing.
Then she said, “Whom have you seen recently? Have you seen General Baum at all? He always made me laugh.”
“Dead, I think. In Hungary.”
“Oh. A shame. And Colonel Prince von Kühl? A delightful man.”
“Disappeared. In Russia. Dead, I suppose, perhaps taken prisoner.”
“And — but I suppose it’s useless. Most of them are dead, aren’t they?”
“Many, I suppose. The sacrifice was gigantic.”
“Sometimes I feel like a ghost. The only one left. Do you ever think about it that way?”
“No.”
“It’s so sad. All those young men. So handsome. Do you remember the celebration of the Julfest in 1938? I first saw you there. I’m sure you don’t remember. I’d just given up the piano. Anyway, the room was full of beautiful young people. We sang and danced. It was such a happy time. But of all those people, almost all are dead, aren’t they?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“But you haven’t thought of it?”
“I’ve been rather busy.”
“Yes, of course. But at that party, do you know what I sensed in you? Spirituality. You have a spiritual dimension. To be a great killer must take spirituality.”
Killer: the word struck him like a blow.
“Did you know how attractive that is? At that party, you were like a young priest, celibate and beautiful. You were very attractive. You had a special quality. Repp, Repp was different. I heard others speak of it too. Some of the women were wild for you. Did you know that?”
“One can sense such things.”
“Oh, Repp, we’re two peculiar birds, aren’t we? I always knew you’d be one of the survivors. You had that too, even way back then.”
“I prefer to think of nicer times we had.”
“Berlin, the ’42 season? When you were the hero of the hour.”
“A pleasant time.”
“I suppose you’ll want to sleep with me now.”
“Yes. Are you turning into a nun? You used to be quite eager, I recall. Dirty, even. At the restaurant on the Lutherstrasse.”
“Horcher’s. Yes. I was very evil.” She had touched him under the table, and whispered a suggestion into his ear. They had gone back to the Grand and done exactly as she had suggested. It was their first time. It was also before the terror raids had come and Berlin turned into a ruin, and her face along with it.
“It won’t be the way it was though,” she said. “I just know it won’t. I don’t know why, but I can tell that it won’t be very good. But I suppose it’s my duty.”
“It’s not your duty. It has nothing to do with duty.” Point of honor: she had to want him.
“It’s not out of pity though. You can assure me of that?”
“Of course not. I don’t need a woman. I need shelter. I need to rest. I’ve got important things ahead. But I want you. Do you see?”
“I suppose. Then, come, let’s go.”
They went up to the bedroom. Repp made love to her with great energy and after a while she began to respond. For a while it was as good as it had been. Repp did most things well, and this was no exception. He could feel her open to and accept him and his own ache surprised him, seeming to spring from outside, from far away.
Afterward, he put on some wool flannel trousers and a white shirt and some blunt-tipped brown shoes — whose? he wondered — and took his private’s uniform and equipment into the garden out back. There, working quickly, he buried it alclass="underline" tunic, boots, trousers, coat, rifle even. He stood back when he was finished and looked down at the rectangle of disturbed earth under which his soldier’s identity lay. He felt quite odd. He was out of uniform for the first time since — how long? years and years, since ’36 at least, that first year in the Totenkopfverbände at Dachau.
“You should have let your hair grow. It’s cropped too closely around your ears,” she said in the kitchen, matter-of-factly, “though since you’ve the proper papers, I suppose you could look like the Führer and the Swiss wouldn’t care.”
“What time is the broadcast?”
“At six. Nearly that now. There used to be music on all the time. Now there’s only announcements.”
“There will be music again soon. Don’t worry. The Jews will put music on again.”
“Do you know, someone said there were camps out East where we murdered them. Men, women and children. That we murdered them in the millions with a kind of gas or something. Then burned the bodies. Can you imagine that?”
Repp said he couldn’t. “Though they deserve everything they get. They started the whole thing.”
“I hope we did it. I hope it’s true. Then we’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. We’ll have done some good for the world after all.”
“But there’s always more. No matter how many they got out East, there’s always more.”
“Attention. Berlin calling. Berlin calling,” a voice crackled through the radio. Repp fiddled with the dial to bring the signal in better, but it was never clear. “The heroic people of the Greater German Reich continue in their struggle against the monstrous forces of International Jewry which threaten on all sides. The Red armies have been driven back in flight to the Baltic by Army Group North. In Hungary, our loyal SS troops stand fast. Since the death of our leader, we have cont—”
Repp turned the radio off.
“He’s gone?”
“Yes. They announced it several days back. Where were you?”
Hiding in a barn. Shooting brave men dead. Murdering them. Blowing Willi Buchner up.
“I had a hectic time reaching here.”
“But it seems to go on. The war. It seems like it’s been here forever. Even now I can’t believe it’ll be over.”
He turned the radio up again. “—in the south, Munich is an inspiration to us all, while Vienna continues to—”
“Damn them!” he shouted angrily. “The Americans walked into Munich days ago. Why don’t they tell the truth?”