Hammer to Fall

Home > Mystery > Hammer to Fall > Page 1
Hammer to Fall Page 1

by John Lawton




  Also by John Lawton

  1963

  Black Out

  Old Flames

  A Little White Death

  Bluffing Mr. Churchill

  Flesh Wounds

  Second Violin

  A Lily of the Field

  Sweet Sunday

  Then We Take Berlin

  The Unfortunate Englishman

  Friends and Traitors

  HAMMER

  TO FALL

  A JOE WILDERNESS NOVEL

  JOHN

  LAWTON

  Atlantic Monthly Press

  New York

  Copyright © 2020 by John Lawton

  Cover photograph © Bohumil Dobrovolsky

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Scanning, uploading, and electronic distribution of this book or the facilitation of such without the permission of the publisher is prohibited. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. Any member of educational institutions wishing to photocopy part or all of the work for classroom use, or anthology, should send inquiries to Grove Atlantic, 154 West 14th Street, New York, NY 10011 or [email protected].

  FIRST EDITION

  Published simultaneously in Canada

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Grove Atlantic hardcover edition: March 2020

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data available for this title.

  ISBN 978-0-8021-4812-4

  eISBN 978-0-8021-4813-1

  Atlantic Monthly Press

  an imprint of Grove Atlantic

  154 West 14th Street

  New York, NY 10011

  Distributed by Publishers Group West

  groveatlantic.com

  20 21 22 23 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  per

  Marcia

  You cannot fold a flood

  And put it in a drawer,

  Because the winds would find it out,

  And tell your cedar floor.

  —Emily Dickinson

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Also by John Lawton

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  I: Peanut Butter

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Vienna

  II: Tea and Stollen

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  III: Omelettes

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  IV: Fig Biscuits

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  V: Vodka

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Vienna

  VI: Armagnac and Easter Eggs

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Chapter Ninety

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  Chapter Ninety-Six

  Chapter Ninety-Seven

  Chapter Ninety-Eight

  Chapter Ninety-Nine

  Chapter Hundred

  Chapter One Hundred One

  Chapter One Hundred Two

  Chapter One Hundred Three

  Chapter One Hundred Four

  Chapter One Hundred Five

  Chapter One Hundred Six

  Chapter One Hundred Seven

  Chapter One Hundred Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Nine

  Vienna

  VII: Beer and Sausages

  Chapter One Hundred Ten

  Chapter One Hundred Eleven

  Chapter One Hundred Twelve

  Chapter One Hundred Thirteen

  Chapter One Hundred Fourteen

  Chapter One Hundred Fifteen

  Chapter One Hundred Sixteen

  Chapter One Hundred Seventeen

  Chapter One Hundred Eighteen

  Chapter One Hundred Nineteen

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Six

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-One

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Three

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Seven

  Chapter One Hun
dred Thirty-Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred Forty

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-One

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Two

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Three

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Four

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Seven

  VIII: Jam Roly-Poly

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-One

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Two

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Three

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Four

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Five

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Six

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Seven

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty-One

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Two

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Three

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Four

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Five

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Six

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Seven

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy-One

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Two

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Three

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Four

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Five

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Six

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Seven

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty-One

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Two

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Three

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Four

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Five

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Six

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Seven

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-One

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Two

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Three

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Four

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Five

  Vienna

  IX: Black Coffee

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Six

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Seven

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Eight

  Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Nine

  Chapter Two Hundred

  Chapter Two Hundred One

  Chapter Two Hundred Two

  Chapter Two Hundred Three

  Chapter Two Hundred Four

  Chapter Two Hundred Five

  Chapter Two Hundred Six

  Chapter Two Hundred Seven

  Chapter Two Hundred Eight

  Chapter Two Hundred Nine

  Chapter Two Hundred Ten

  Chapter Two Hundred Eleven

  Chapter Two Hundred Twelve

  Chapter Two Hundred Thirteen

  Chapter Two Hundred Fourteen

  Chapter Two Hundred Fifteen

  Stuff

  Acknowledgments

  Back Cover

  I

  Peanut Butter

  §1

  East Berlin: July or August 1948

  Das Eishaus: The Egg-Cooling House, Osthafen

  “So, Sadie says to Doris—”

  “Doris? Что такое дорис?”

  “Doris is just a name, Yuri. A woman’s name. Doris, Debbie, Diana … doesn’t matter. Just a fuckin’ name.”

  “Da. Da. Еврейское имя?”

  “What?”

  Frank turned to Wilderness, the exasperation beginning to show in his face. Wilderness translated.

  “He’s asking if it’s a Jewish name.”

  “Oh. Right. Yeah. If you like. It’s a Jewish name. Anyway … Doris says to Sadie—”

  “No,” said Wilderness. “Sadie was talking to Doris.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake. Who’s telling this gag? You or me? So … Sadie says to Doris, ‘My Hymie’s such a gentleman. Every week he brings me flowers.’ And Doris says, ‘Oh yeah, my Jake is such a putz, if he brings me flowers it can mean only one thing. I’ll be spending the night with my legs in the air!’ And Sadie says, ‘Oh, you don’t got a vase?’ ”

  Frank laughed at his own joke. All but slapped his thighs. Wilderness managed a smile. He had heard it before. Three or four times, in fact, but Frank was never one to preface a gag with, “Stop me if I told you this one already.”

  Yuri looked nonplussed.

  The kid next to him, one of those string-bean youths they had nicknamed “Yuri’s Silents,” was smirking. He looked to be about the same age as Wilderness himself, but Wilderness was twenty going on thirty, and this kid was twenty going on twelve. He always looked nervous—scared shitless, as Frank would have it—and perhaps he, a mere corporal, thought it only prudent not to laugh at a dirty joke his boss, a gilded NKVD major with shoulder boards as wide as landing strips, couldn’t get.

  Yuri got swiftly back to business.

  “Sunday? One hundred pounds?”

  Frank glanced quickly at Wilderness. Wilderness nodded.

  “Sure. One hundred pounds of finest PX Java.”

  Yuri stuck out his hand. He liked to shake on every deal. Even though they’d been trading coffee, butter and anything else the Russians had on their shopping list for months now, he shook every time as though resealing a bond between them. Wilderness did not think Yuri trusted Frank Spoleto, but then he wasn’t at all sure he trusted Frank either.

  They were about halfway back to the jeep. Wilderness could see Swift Eddie at the wheel, deep in a Penguin paperback, oblivious to all around him. And he could hear footsteps running behind them.

  He turned.

  It was the “Silent.” His great flat feet slapping down on the pockmarked tarmac.

  “I am sorry. I mean not to surprise you.”

  He was a Kolya or a Kostya … one of those abundant Russian diminutives foisted onto children and rarely abandoned as adults. He had the look of an adolescent, features scarcely formed, his face dominated by bright blue eyes that seemed far too trusting to work for an NKVD rogue like Yuri. His Adam’s apple bobbed above his collar. His long fingers disappeared into a pocket to produce … an empty jam jar.

  Frank said, “What’s on your mind, kid?”

  “Can you get me this?”

  Wilderness said, nipping in ahead of Frank, “Our deal is with Major Myshkin. We don’t undercut him and we don’t deal without him.”

  Frank rolled the jar in his hand, showed Wilderness the label.

  “I don’t think Yuri will give a damn about this, Joe.”

  The label read,

  COUSIN KITTY’S GEORGIA PEANUT BUTTER

  And then, egregiously,

  YUM, YUMMY YUM YUMS

  “Is true,” said Kolya/Kostya. “The major will let me buy.”

  Wilderness shrugged. Who was he to stand in the way of a deal, however petty?

  “Can you get it?” he said to Frank.

  “Sure. If not this brand, then something like. If there’s one kind of peanut butter coming out of Georgia, there must be fifty. If this is what he wants. I’ll find something. God knows why he wants it. The stuff sticks to your teeth like Plasticine.”

  “Is … личное дело … personal, yes?”

  “Whatever. Fifty cents a jar, OK. And greenbacks. Capisce? None of those Ostmarks you guys print like toilet paper. US dollars, right?”

  “Of course,” the kid grinned. “Grrrrinbaksy.”r />
  “How many jars?”

  “Hundred.”

  “A hundred?”

  “A hundred … to begin with.”

  “OK, kid, you got yourself a deal. Now shake on it, just like your Uncle Yuri, and me and my partner here will head back to civilisation.”

  They shook, and Kolya/Kostya said, “Major Myshkin not my uncle. I am Kostya—Konstantin Ilyich Zolotukhin.”

  As they climbed into the jeep, Frank had his moan.

  “Do any of them have a sense of humour? ‘Uncle’ was just a tease. And Yuri … what in hell happened to him? It was as though I’d asked to fuck his grandmother.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t like Jewish jokes.”

  “Never thought of that. Do you reckon he’s Jewish? I mean, what kind of a name is Myshkin?”

  “A Russian name,” Wilderness replied. “And you can bet your last dollar it’s not his real name. By the bye … how much does a jar of peanut butter cost back home?”

  Frank’s hand sliced the air, tipping an imaginary fried egg onto an imaginary plate.

  “Around twelve cents.”

  “That’s quite a markup.”

  “Markup from what? We steal the stuff. And how would the kid ever know the right price? He’s going to hop on a plane to Shitcreek, New Jersey, and hit the local grocery store?”

  “I meant. Fair play. That’s all.”

  “Fair play. Jeezus. Joe, this is no time to grow a conscience. If he’ll pay fifty cents then we collect fifty cents.”

  §2

  The problem had always been their own people. The military police of the French, British and American occupying forces. The Reds left them alone. Wilderness assumed that they’d all been told by Yuri not to mess with his “Schiebers” … his smugglers. Since the airlift began, the MPs did not cross the line to East Berlin, but on occasion they were not past demanding the odd, random search—and on occasion producing papers showing they were in Intelligence cut no mustard and a half-hearted, odd, random search took place. None of them had ever thought to open the jerry cans mounted on the jeep—all packed with contraband.

  There was no room in the cans for the peanut butter, so it sat in a sack in the footwell. So what if it got confiscated? The goods that mattered were the ones that passed for currency … cigarettes and coffee. And who among the English MPs would know what this stuff was? If needs be, Wilderness was prepared to swear it was bunion ointment or pile cream.

  Come Sunday, they delivered the coffee.

  Yuri paid up, in the usual manner, as though each dollar was flayed from his own back, and disappeared.

  They were left alone with Kostya, who beamed with delight at his purchase, and paid without pain.

 

‹ Prev