The Traitor Blitz

by Johannes Mario Simmel

  "But of course," I said. The place where she had hit me stung. I took a swig out of my flask.

  "I'm sorry."

  "That's all right."

  "I—I have to thank you for so much," she stammered. "My safety, probably my life, and then—then I go and—I'm not sane, you see? I'm not sane!"

  "You're perfectly sane," I said. "If I were in your position, I would probably react the same way. It must be wonderful to be loved as much as you love Jan Bilka. Only that Jan Bilka doesn't give a damn. Your love is a burden to him. Don't you realize that?"

  "Yes," she said softly. "I do. You must forgive me."

  "I've already done that."

  "And be patient with me. I really am a bit crazy—"

  "I'm a bit crazy, too," I said. And not only where you are concerned, I thought.

  "Walter." A whisper.

  "What?"

  "I'm sorry for everything I said. Don't be angry with me. I loved all the new things. They made me so happy. I never had such beautiful things. And nothing like this will ever happen again. I swear it won't."

  "And it mustn't happen again," I said. "Because we have to 340

  leave you alone now, and we must be sure you won't do anything silly."

  "I just told you ... I swear—" She stopped. "You don't believe me!"

  I said nothing.

  "You don't believe me!" she cried again.

  I shook my head. And then she took my head in both hands and drew my face down close to hers and kissed me on the mouth. And with the sweetness of that kiss, all my fears and anxieties were gone, all my restlessness and depression. "Now do you believe me?" she whispered.

  "Yes," I said, and put my arms around her and kissed her again. Her lips were soft, her tongue was between my teeth, our tongues touched. I thought that I surely smelled of cigarettes and whiskey and was ashamed; still, the kiss couldn't seem to end. The rain beat against the panes, the light in the bedroom was dim, and whoever could have seen us would have thought that here was a pair of true lovers.

  I have already written that during this time I didn't realize how everything in life—every action, yes, even every kiss—is only a half-truth, the other half is a lie. We live alone on this earth, every one of us—more than three and a half billion people, in the night of their existence, in the jungle of their lives, and by the laws of that jungle. As I held Irina in my arms and kissed her, I thought of something Bertie had said when he had come back from Vietnam. There had been this GI, a Negro in an army hospital, sitting in a wheelchair. Suddenly he had pitched forward and fallen on the floor. The man had had both legs amputated above the knee. Bertie had hurried forward to help him, but the Negro had beaten him off, yelling, "Take your hands off me, you goddamn' son of a bitch! Leave me alone! Everybody's got to fight his own battles!"

  Bertie had said, "But all I want to do is help you," and the Negro had replied, "Alone! He has to fight his battles alone! Every time! Every one!"

  The first thing Fraulein Louise heard when she woke up were voices, many voices, male and female, and the rat-tat-tatting of typewriters. She opened her eyes and sat up. What had happened? She saw that she had slept on an old leather sofa in a sparsely furnished room, covered by her winter coat. An aerial photo of Liibeck hung on the wall, and a bulletin board with "Wanted" posters. There was a big window, covered by a green curtain.

  A door fell shut with a bang and Fraulein Louise could hear steps coming closer. "Hello!" she called out in a hoarse voice, and then cleared her throat. "Hello! Please!"

  A police officer came into the room. Fraulein Louise recognized him. That was her policeman! What was his name? Liitjens, of course. The one who had escorted her from the Paris Hotel.

  "Well," said the tall young police officer in a friendly voice. "How are you? Sleep well?"

  "Where am I?" Fraulein Louise hadn't really come to.

  "At the Davidswache," said Liitjens. "Don't you remember?"

  "Not a thing! What on earth happened to me?" Then she screamed, "Where is my bag?"

  "Don't worry. We've taken good care of it. It's in the dispatcher's room."

  "The dispatcher's room? Davidswache? How did I get here?"

  "But Fraulein Gottschalk, don't you remember?"

  "I just told you—I don't remember a thing!"

  "You don't remember how Chief Sievers from homicide talked to you? In the Interrogation Room?"

  "Who talked to me?"

  "Chief Sievers, from homicide. About Herr Concon. The murder in the Paris Hotel."

  "Now I'm beginning to remember," said Fraulein Louise. "So he talked to me? About what?"

  "About everything you knew, and you gave him a very detailed account." 342

  What did I tell him? Fraulein Louise tried to remember. Dear heaven... what? Suddenly she heard the voice of the American pilot. It came from where Lutjens was standing. "Louise is confused. Louise can't remember. But she has betrayed none of our secrets. She can't do that because we are always with her." "Thank God!" said Fraulein Louise, aloud.

  "Did you say anything?" asked Lutjens.

  "Nothing, nothing," Fraulein Louise said hastily. "And the chief was pleased?"

  "Very."

  "Where is he now?"

  "Oh, he's been gone a long time. He must be at headquarters by now."

  "Gone a long time?" Fraulein Louise brushed her coat aside and got up, staggering. Lutjens jumped forward to help her. "Gone a long time?" she said again. "When was—what's the time?"

  The officer looked at his watch. "3:00 p.m."

  "What?" Fraulein Louise was starded. "But you brought me here in the early morning. It's—it's that long ago?"

  Lutjens said calmly, "The important thing is that you feel better. I've fixed tea for you in the kitchen next door."

  Fraulein Louise sank down on the old sofa again. The springs squeaked. "So I've been lying here for hours I"

  "Yes," said Lutjens, walking into the little kitchen. He came back with a tray. "Now drink some of this."

  "But what happened?"

  "At the end of your conversation with the chief, you collapsed. Just a weak spell, according to the doctor. Fortunately you were still here. He gave you a needle and said you were exhausted; we should let you sleep till you woke up. So we put you in here. This is one of our waiting rooms. There's so much going on up front, and it's not exactly restful in the cellblock. You slept like a baby. I looked in on you every once in a while." He poured her tea. "So now, Fr&ulein Gottschalk, have some tea."

  Fraulein Louise found she was thirsty. She asked, "And Herr Reimers?"

  "He's in the basement. The cells are in the basement."

  "But why did you lock him up?"

  "I beg your pardon!" Lutjens laughed. "What were we supposed to do with him? He'll be held and jailed pending trial, until we can bring him before a judge. That was attempted theft."

  Fraulein Louise put down her cup. "No!" she cried. "No! Please, Officer, I don't want that! I—I don't want you to lock up Herr Reimers. I'll declare that he did me no harm. I forgive him. He's just a poor, confused man. And he didn't steal my bag!"

  "Because he was stopped at the last minute. No, no, Fr&ulein Gottschalk, don't get all excited again. The whole thing doesn't concern you anymore. Now it's a case for the court. We have to hold Reimers."

  "But that's dreadful!" cried Fraulein Louise. "The poor SS—poor Herr Reimers!"

  "What do you mean, 'poor'?" said Liitjens. "He's an old crook." Somebody was calling his name. "Now you rest a bit longer, Fraulein Gottschalk. That's the most important thing." And he went off, after giving her a friendly nod.

  14

  About fifteen minutes later, Fraulein Louise got up. She saw that there were closed doors here and open corridors. Passing through one of the doors, she found herself in a passageway. On her right there was a cigarette machine. A staircase led down to the basement. She could hear a hoarse voice singing, "A drunk fell off a roof; his sodden neck he broke; police came right along
and took away the bloke!"

  "Shut up!" The screeching voice of a woman.

  Fraulein Louise walked past several rooms. There were signs on the door: Female Protection Squad. Interview Room 3. Interview Room 2. Interview Room 1. There was a wide opening, and Fraulein Louise found herself in a big room, swarming with male and female officers, detectives, and persons awaiting to be booked. Clerks sat at desks and were typing. Men and women sat on chairs beside them and wer^ being questioned. There was a wooden barrier that divided the room, and shelves with small compartments in which objects were lying, which she presumed had been taken from persons arrested. A row of light buttons below the compartments and above each one, the number of a cell. The flag of the

  Bundesrepublik hung diagonally into the room. There were city maps on the walls, and two photographs of police officers in black frames. Probably died in the line of duty, she decided. An opening in the wall led to a second big room, from which calling police cars could be heard. A young officer sat in front of a radio console. Then suddenly she saw her "guide." He was being brought into the room, a policeman on each side. He wasn't wearing a coat, and the expression in his blue eyes was pitiful. His face was gray, his body was trembling visibly. "Herr Reimers!" cried Fraulein Louise.

  He saw her and burst out crying. She wanted to rush over to him, but a policeman stopped her. "No," he said, in a friendly tone. "Please, Fraulein Gottschalk, go back to the room you'were in and rest a litde longer."

  "But I want to help Herr Reimers!"

  "You can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "Please!" Officer Liitjens had joined them. "Please, Fraulein Louise. I explained it all to you, didn't I? You can't do anything about it. You—"

  "But I don't want Herr Reimers locked up! Please, please, let him go! And I have to go, too! I have so much to do. But please promise me first that you won't harm Herr Reimers. I forgive him! I forgive him for everything!"

  "Not so loud, please," said abroad-shouldered clerk, sitting at one of the desks. "Calm down, Fraulein Louise. You have nothing to say anymore about happens to Herr Reimers. And you have to wait for a while, too."

  "Why?"

  "For the court-appointed doctor."

  "What court-appointed doctor?"

  'The one we've just called. He'll be here any minute. He's a very busy man."

  "Why do you need a court doctor?"

  "Well, we can't just send someone to the psychiatric ward just like that," said Liitjens. "That wouldn't do. A psychiatrist has to examine the person first. He's the one who decides if there are indications of insanity, or general, or self-destructive elements. Now please go back to your room, Fraulein Gottschalk."

  A psychiatrist! Commitment to an insane asylum. Oh, dear God in heaven, thought Fraulein Louise. Why am I being so sorely tried? Perhaps I am to join my friends soon?

  A quarter of an hour later, sitting on the old leather sofa again, Fraulein Louise heard steps and voices. She recognized the voices of Wilhelm Reimers and Officer Liitjens. He was saying, "If you would please go in there, Herr Doktor. Interview Room 1, is free."

  A door was opened and closed. The steps faded away. Just a minute! thought Fraulein Louise, clutching her head. What is this? The doctor isn't coming to me? He's seeing Herr Reimers? Has everyone gone crazy?

  She got up and crept through the deserted passage to the door of Interview Room 1, laid her ear against the wood, and listened breathlessly. A conversation was going on inside. Reimers was saying, "Rays. Yes, Herr Doktor."

  "What sort of rays?"

  "Electromagnetic," said Reimers. "They radiate from various centers planted all over the city." .

  "Ah," said the doctor. "Go on."

  "And these rays are always directed at me, Herr Doktor. Wherever I am, wherever I go, day and night. All the time. So the men in the central station can hear everything I say, even when I whisper."

  "Even when you whisper. Ah!" said the doctor.

  Oh, my God! thought Fraulein Louise, and had to close her eyes for a minute.

  "And the men at central are hearing everything right now," said Reimers, in Interview Room 1, his voice hurried and fearful. Tm telling you all this, Herr Doktor, because I just can't stand it anymore. This constant persecution! This constant fear! I can't go on. I just can't go on! That was why I wanted to steal the lady's bag."

  "Why?"

  "Because there's a lot of money in it. I thought I could flee with it, to another country. But that would have been useless. The rays would have followed me. They wouldn't have left me in peace, those men."

  This is impossible! thought Fraulein Louise. Things like this don't happen! And then she heard the voice of the dead American again. "It is possible! And much more is possible. And everything has its reason. Even if the poor earthbound creature can't fathom it."

  Fraulein Louise folded her hands and swallowed hard. Meanwhile, behind the closed door, the doctor was asking, "What sort of men are they, Herr Reimers?"

  "They belong to an organization. You understand?"

  "I understand."

  "And this organization is watching me, has been watching me for years!"

  "For years, Herr Reimers?"

  "And a lot of cars from central follow me, too," said Reimers. A At night they signal to each other. Light signals. I can see it all. Don't you believe nie, Herr Doktor?"

  "Certainly I believe you, Herr Reimers. Have you—have you ever told t T iis story to anyone else?"

  "I should say not! One never knows who one's talking to. I'm telling you now because I want you to understand my situation. I want you to know why I need money. Perhaps you can save me, after all."

  "I shall certainly try. Why do these men persecute you?"

  "Unfortunately, I have told you everything I can. Please understand... if I said anything more, my life would be in danger."

  "I understand," said the doctor. "If you don't mind staying here, please—I'll be back."

  Fraulein Louise could hear a chair being moved, and she ran forward quickly, to the room that was filled with people. She went and stood in a corner, beside a basin installed for arrested drunks to vomit in. The court-appointed doctor, a fat little man with a nervous expression, was right behind her. Without paying any attention to her, he walked up to the desk where the broad-shouldered clerk was sitting. "Well?" asked the clerk. "How about him?"

  "You were right," said the doctor. "A persecution complex with hallucinations. I'll fill out the commitment forms right away." He sat down and took some papers out of his briefcase. Now the dead American pilot was standing behind the doctor. Fraulein Louise knew he was there although she couldn't see him, and she said to him, "Thank you. You have given me courage again."

  "Louise must trust us," said the dead American.

  Fraulein Louise stepped forward bravely. The broad-shouldered clerk looked up. "Please," said Fraulein Louise. "I am in a hurry. I would like my bag now. I have to leave."

  "Are you sure you're all right now?" said the clerk.

  "Perfectly all right," said Fraulein Louise. The doctor looked up at her for a moment, then went on filling out the commitment papers.

  "Well, on your responsibility, then," said the broad-shouldered clerk. "Liitjens, give the lady her bag."

  The young officer got Fraulein Louise's bag out of its compartment. "Everything's here," he said. "I'll count the money for you."

  'That isn't necessary," said Fraulein Louise. "I'm sure nothing could disappear here." She hesitated, then she said, "Herr Doktor, please..."

  "Yes?" The doctor looked up at her again.

  "Herr Reimers..."

  "What about him?"

  "That's what I'd like to know, Herr Doktor. Is he going to be sent to the psychiatric ward?"

  "Certainly."

  "And the charge of theft?"

  "That's no longer valid. He'll stay in the hospital, I'm sure."

  "That's what I thought," said Fraulein Louise. "That's why I'm asking. He doesn't
have any money. And I can't bear the thought of that." She rummaged around in her bag. "I would like to give him something, so that he can buy a few things for himself, if he has to be in a long time. Cigarettes, soap, something extra to eat—that sort of thing." She laid a few bills on the desk. "Here. I'd like him to have this."

  "Four hundred marks?" The clerk was stunned.

  "It's my money. And he's such a poor fellow. I heard what the Herr Doktor said. Persecution complex. God knows what that is.

  "Now listen, Fraulein Gottschalk. This man was going to steal your money," said Liitjens, but Fraulein Louise wouldn't let him go on.

  "And I want to give him something because I'm sorry for him."

  "Well, all right, then," said the broad-shculdered clerk. "We can't forbid you to give the man something. I'll make out a receipt." 348

  "I don't need a receipt," said Fraulein Louise.

  "But we need our copy," said the clerk, who had already started to write. "Or they'll be saying we kept your money."

  "I would never think anything like that!" cried Fraulein Louise.

  "Nothing like being sure," said the broad-shouldered clerk, and gave Fr&ulein Louise her receipt, which he had stamped.

  "Thank you," she said. "And now may I leave?"

  "Of course, Fraulein Louise. We have your address if anything comes up. But do you really feel well enough?"

  "I feel fine," said Fr&ulein Louise, nodding. "Thank you very much, gendemen—especially you, Herr Liitjens. The tea was wonderful."

  "Was glad to help."

  "So 111 be off," she said. "Griiss Gott, gentlemen." She shook hands with every one of them, with the doctor, too. Liitjens escorted her through the swinging door in the barrier, to the top of the stairs. "Aw/ Wiedersehen, Fraulein Louise," he said. "All the best. And take good care of your money!"

  "I'll do that," said Fraulein Louise, and walked down the nine steps to the exit. At the bottom she tinned around once more and waved. Liitjens waved back. Fraulein Louise opened her umbrella and walked out into the street. She hailed a taxi, got in, and told the driver, "Eppendorfer Baum 187, please."

  "Yes, ma'am," said the driver, and drove up the Reeperbahn in a drizzly rain. Fraulein Louise sat in the back, her bag on her knees, a peaceful smile playing about her lips.