The Accomplice

by Joseph Kanon

  “And Markus?”

  “Markus will lose a friend. Or do you mean all that business about identifying the body? I don’t think anyone wants to lift up that rock. Too embarrassing. The Argentines will keep it all filed away somewhere. Bildener’s friends will make sure.”

  “And when does my father know? That he’s not going to Madrid?”

  “At the embassy. He’ll have to know then.”

  “If you can get him there.”

  Aaron nodded. “If they think he’s going to Brazil, they’ll be out at Ezeiza. But the Uruguayan flights are short—they leave from Aeroparque. We just need somebody to get a new ticket, somebody the Israelis aren’t going to recognize if they do have someone watching. They can’t cover all the gates, so they’ll be at the counter. If he avoids that, we can get him out.”

  “With you.”

  “That’s right. Tickets for both of us. We won’t be able to order them from the travel agent on Anchorena this time.”

  She looked up, caught off guard by this.

  “You were there? You know what this feels like? Someone taking your clothes off. But you did that too, didn’t you?” She drew on the cigarette. “So you want me to buy the tickets.”

  “No. Nathan’s men have been tailing you. So you might be recognized. Better not chance it.”

  “You’re looking out for me,” she said, a theatrical archness.

  He ignored this. “And I was thinking we might pass the tickets in the men’s room. It’s the easiest place. Then straight to the gate.”

  “Who, then? You can’t do it. They know you.”

  “But they don’t know Bildener.”

  “Markus? Are you crazy? You think he would help you do this?”

  “He won’t know what we’re doing. Just saving Otto from the Israelis.” He looked at her. “He’d do it if you asked him. He’d believe you.”

  “He’d never forgive me.”

  “No.”

  She put out the cigarette, waving the smoke away from her face. “My head’s spinning with all this. Now trick Markus. And when did you have this idea? While you were following me?”

  “Tonight. I’m making this up as we go. I didn’t know—it would happen like this. It just did. But now we have to get him out.”

  “And I’m left here to explain. What else? I might as well know the rest. What else do you want me to do?”

  “Talk to Markus. He’ll do it for you.”

  “No, for Otto. For his daughter. They’re like— I don’t know, brothers. Family.”

  “He ordered the experiments. From the Institute. That’s who we’re talking about.”

  She got up, about to leave, then stood there for a minute, arms folded over her chest, as if she were holding herself in.

  “But there’s no trial for him,” she said.

  “No. He was clever. He never left his desk. Otto was at the camp. Where the evidence was.”

  She said nothing for a moment. “But you can do a lot from a desk.” And then, before he could say anything, she turned toward the bedroom. “I’ll talk to him. And then it’s finished.”

  13

  AARON WENT OVER TO the window, the crack at the edge of the blind. No one in the street. What else? Think it through. Once they were on the plane they were safe. Then a taxi to the embassy, Otto still dreaming of Madrid. But first the plane. The tree below still a dark canopy. Car lights turning in to Casares at the foot of the park, climbing the hill. In a second, they’d turn on Alvear, maybe head for the hotel. Instead the car pulled into the curb, catty-corner to Hanna’s building, and parked, killing the lights. Aaron waited to see who got out, but no one did. A few more minutes, still nobody. Who parked and sat in a dark car? He made his eyes into slits, peering, trying to see inside the car, but there wasn’t enough street light to make out the driver. Or anyone else. How many? His mind clicked over, shuffling. Jamie didn’t need to find Otto—he had Aaron doing it for him. No reason to think otherwise. Nathan may have got restless at Goldfarb’s, waiting for Aaron to check in, and sent another man to have a look. Or come himself, suspicious. But he wouldn’t have sent a full car, a team. They were down a man, with a few locations to cover. So someone alone, maybe two. Or no one at all, Aaron’s imagination running away. But no one got out of the car.

  “Hanna tells me you want to move him,” Bildener said, coming in. “He’s in no condition for that.”

  “Is he awake? Can he walk?”

  “With help, maybe. But he’s—”

  “I think the Israelis are outside.”

  “What?” Hanna said.

  Bildener had gone pale. “The Israelis? You understand, I can’t be involved in—”

  “You’re already involved. Now help us save him. Nobody’s after you.”

  “How do you know? Any of this.” He turned to Hanna. “Israelis outside and you trust him?”

  Hanna looked at Aaron. “What do you want to do?”

  “We have to change the plan.” He looked down, absorbed in his own thoughts, then back out the window. “There’s probably only one. If they had a full car, they’d already be up here searching the apartment.”

  “I’m sorry, I have to go,” Bildener said, skittish.

  “They’ll kill him,” Hanna said. “Markus.”

  “And if there’s only one?” Bildener said. “So what?”

  “It means we have a chance. But I can’t carry him. So, can he walk?”

  “If he has to. A strong man. But he’s lost some blood. I can’t guarantee—”

  “Is there a back way out?” Aaron said to Hanna.

  Hanna nodded. “To an alley. Behind the building.”

  “Where does it come out?”

  “Around the corner. On Ayacucho. Near the middle of the block.”

  “Get a suitcase. Something Otto would use.” He turned to Bildener. “You have a hat, right? If you keep your head down—”

  “What?”

  “You could pass. You’re about the same size.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look, nobody knows who’s here. If Hanna’s alone. But they see her coming out with an old man and a suitcase—what are they going to think? You’re taking him to the airport.” He looked at Bildener. “You’re the decoy.”

  “Decoy?” Bildener said, apprehensive.

  “Don’t worry, not the kind they shoot at. Not on Alvear. If nobody follows you, it’s a false alarm. Maybe some kids necking in the car. But if he does follow, then we know.”

  “And what if it’s more than one?” Hanna said.

  “They could try to take you in the street.”

  “And get Markus. And then?”

  “I’ll get to the airport some other way. We have to chance it.”

  “But when he sees you—” Hanna said.

  “They don’t. They see you and Bildener coming out. I’ll be with Otto in the alley. You pick us up. They can’t tail you that closely around the corner, so they don’t see it. We keep down and it’s still just you and Otto on your way to the airport.” He stopped. “If we can get the real Otto moving. You want to give me a hand?” he said to Bildener.

  Bildener, dazed, looked to Hanna, a child asking permission. She nodded, then said, “I’ll pack.”

  “Don’t bother. Just the suitcase. It’s a prop. You’d better bring your gun, though. Just in case,” he said, motioning toward the drawer where she kept it.

  Hanna stopped, staring at him. Only one way to have known that. A silent exchange, surprised and then refusing to be surprised, undressed again.

  “A gun?” Bildener said, a tremor in his voice.

  Hanna touched his arm. “He’s just being careful,” she said, shooting a look at Aaron. “We’d better hurry. Is the car still there?”

  Aaron moved the blind. “Yes.”

  She reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a passport. “Here, you keep it. In case we’re separated.” She handed it to him. “Take care of him.”

 
Otto was drowsy but awake, slightly confused by the activity around him. Bildener had covered the wound with a bandage, and now Otto had to be dressed again, shirt buttoned, the bloodstain dry, hidden by his jacket.

  “Why can’t I sleep?” he said to Hanna. “You don’t want me here?”

  “We don’t want the Israelis to find you.”

  “No. They knew about Ortiz’s. You were right. It didn’t matter if I was dead. They found me anyway.”

  “Well, now we’ll get you away.”

  “With him?” he said, pointing, as if Aaron had been out of focus and now was coming into view. “He’s one of them.”

  “No. He’s going to help you.”

  “Like at the cemetery,” he said, vague, trying to remember.

  “That’s right. He’s going to get you out. Can you stand? Walk a little?”

  She helped him to his feet, bracing him as he found his balance.

  “Can you walk? It’s important.”

  “Markus gave me a pill. For the pain.”

  “I know. But you can do it. There, another step. Are you dizzy?”

  “No. Where are we going?”

  “The airport.”

  “Markus too?” he said, seeing the suitcase next to him.

  “All of us. You go down with Aaron and we’ll pick you up. Then the Israelis won’t see.”

  “We outsmart them.”

  “That’s right,” she said, looking at Aaron.

  “And we go to São Paulo.”

  “No, a change. Montevideo.”

  “Montevideo.”

  Another glance to Aaron. Now this. “For Madrid, remember? We were talking before.”

  “Yes, Madrid. Erich Kruger. I remember. A new place. You can come and see me. We’ll be safe there. With the Americans. You could come. No one would know.”

  Hanna said nothing, deliberately not reacting to this.

  “Now try it with Aaron,” she said, slipping his arm through Aaron’s. “He’ll get you down to the car. Lean on him if you have to. Then it’s easy.”

  “You know he’s Max Weill’s boy,” Otto said.

  Bildener looked up.

  “Yes,” Hanna said. “That doesn’t matter now.”

  “So why does he help me?”

  “He works for the Americans. He wants you in Madrid.” Looking away as she said it.

  “I said he was with the Americans,” Bildener said, vindicated. “Bariloche. Such nonsense.”

  “They protect you, the Americans. Look at Barbie. The way he lives—out in the open. Gehlen, after the war. Now me. It’s better than Brazil.”

  “Brazil would be safer,” Bildener said.

  “My old friend. So careful,” Otto said, putting his hand on Bildener’s arm, a good-bye. “We did good work together. Good science,” he said, believing it. “Someday they’ll use the research. If we live to see it.” He turned to Aaron, another good-bye. “I saved his life. Max. He didn’t understand that. How I saved his life.”

  “It’s a long time ago now,” Hanna said. “Here, put on this coat.” She smoothed the back of his shoulders.

  “It’s too warm for a coat.”

  “I know, but it’s winter there,” she said quickly. “Markus and I will get the car. What do you think? Can you do it?”

  “You’re leaving me with him?”

  “He’ll get you to the car.” She touched his hand, an encouragement. “He’ll get you to Madrid.”

  Otto smiled faintly. “Then you come. No one will know. You know, with your hair like that, you look so like your mother. When I met her.”

  Hanna stopped, hand still on his, eyes not moving.

  “It’s the medicine,” Bildener said. “It has an emotional effect.”

  Aaron looked at him, disconcerted. Bildener science. But now Hanna was moving again.

  “You go first,” she said to Aaron. “It’ll take you longer.”

  “Let them get a good look. So they know it’s you. And the suitcase.”

  “Take the service elevator. The stairs are too hard for him like this. Go left out the back door and follow the alley. Wait for us.”

  “What’s in the alley?”

  “Garbage. Rats. Stamp your feet. Go, go.” She shooed them to the door

  “Hanna—” Otto said.

  “Go,” Hanna said, not looking at him, all business.

  In the elevator Otto leaned back against the wall, looking at the mop and bucket in the corner. “So now I’m the janitor,” he said, amused, and then, his mind jumping, “You know all the money is at Ortiz’s. There was no time—”

  “I have money.”

  “Dollars. The rich American. And who pays you, I wonder.”

  “The same people who are going to pay you,” Aaron said, playing with it, another twist.

  “And make me rich?”

  “No, just enough to keep you on a leash. That’s how they do it.”

  “But my money. Not my daughter’s. I won’t have to ask.”

  Aaron said nothing.

  “And you’re taking me there? You’re the delivery boy?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “And Hanna says to go. She trusts you. I don’t. You believe all those things. Max’s stories. Exaggerations.”

  Aaron looked at him, about to speak, then dropped it.

  “Here we go,” he said, as the elevator door opened. “If we run into anybody, let me do the talking. You’re not feeling well and I’m getting you to the hospital.”

  “Through the service alley. With no Spanish. Wonderful. To be in such good hands.”

  “Take my arm. And stay out of the pockets. That only works once.”

  The alley was dim, most of the light secondhand, coming in from the street. Big metal trash collectors, the backs of apartment buildings.

  “You all right? Am I going too fast?”

  “No, it’s fine,” Otto said, but short of breath, making an effort. More steps, Otto’s shuffle scaring off anything scurrying in the dark. “It’s useful that I learned.”

  “What?”

  “Spanish,” Otto said, somewhere else.

  Lights now, closer to the street.

  “I don’t think she’ll come to Madrid,” Otto said, mostly to himself. “Maybe it’s better. But you know, your child. The love for a child—”

  Waving his hand at Daniel. You’ll see him later.

  “You could bring her,” Otto said.

  “Me?”

  “She has a fondness for—” A clanging, tripping on a garbage can top. “Ouf.”

  Aaron held him closer, hand on his chest to prevent him from pitching forward. “Almost there.”

  “For your people,” he finished. “So you make allowances. Your child. And it’s another world now. What happened in the war, that was a political situation. Not personal.”

  “Not personal,” Aaron said, as if he hadn’t heard correctly.

  “Not for me, no. A political situation. Of course, also racial. It was a serious problem then, at that time. Now it’s different.”

  “How?”

  “We were threatened then, the German people. By the Jews. Like a cancer. You have to cut it out to survive.”

  “And you did,” Aaron said, hearing him on the stand, unrepentant, not Eichmann mumbling about orders, a doctor operating.

  “But the numbers, that’s an exaggeration. There weren’t so many.”

  “How many, then?” Leading the witness.

  “I don’t know, but not what they say. It wouldn’t have been possible, so many. Anyway, it was wartime.”

  Sterilizing with X-rays, burned scrotums, children. The war effort.

  They had reached the end of the alley.

  “OK, wait here.” A quiet street, no cars. “It shouldn’t be long.”

  Hanna would be coming out the door with Markus, solicitous, carrying his bag, getting him into the car. Now behind the wheel, putting the car in gear. Then what? Looking in the rearview mirror. But if the other car w
as any good, he wouldn’t pull out right away. He’d wait for Hanna to turn the corner.

  “The Israelis are waiting for us?”

  “We’re not sure.”

  “But you’re with them.”

  “They think I am.”

  “You were there. Where they kept me,” he said, still trying to work it out.

  “Here we go,” Aaron said as the car stopped at the alley. “Quick.”

  He pulled Otto into the street, one arm around his shoulders, flinging open the back door, a push, then throwing himself in after, bumping up against the suitcase, lifting it out of the way, the car beginning to move before he could close the door.

  “Keep down,” he said to Otto. “Did they follow?”

  “I don’t know yet.” She looked up into the mirror. “Yes. That’s the car.”

  She kept going down the hill, residential streets, then turned onto Las Heras, a wide avenue with buses, where it would be harder to follow.

  “More than one?” Aaron said.

  “I can’t tell. Maybe two. Does it matter?”

  “Two and they might think about cutting you off. Jump you at a light or something. One, you’ve just got a tail.”

  “Jump us?” Bildener said.

  They passed the turnoff for the cemetery, where Julio’s body was lying under a tarp, waiting to be found. After Aaron had gone. If they made the plane.

  “They’re not coming any closer,” Hanna said.

  “Where are we going?” Otto said vaguely.

  Aaron looked at him. “The airport. For the plane.”

  “That’s right,” Otto said, as if a name had slipped his mind and then come back. He lifted his head slightly, looking to see where they were. “This way?”

  “The old airport. Aeroparque.”

  “And then Brazil,” Otto said, going over an itinerary in his mind.

  Bildener turned around, concerned. “It’s the medicine.”

  “How much did you give him?”

  “Enough to dull the pain,” Bildener said, defensive, not used to being questioned.