Kingdom of Twilight

by Steven Uhly

  “Heinrich wouldn’t give me the address. Somehow he found out that Ben’s Jewish. And now he’s worried that he wants to take our father to court.”

  “Is that what you want?” Lisa asked Ben.

  “It’s what I want,” Esther said. “But only after you’ve spoken to him.”

  “I lied to him,” Gudrun said. “He didn’t believe me.” She raised her shoulders and let them fall again.

  “We need to go and see him first.”

  “Isn’t your father in the telephone book, under his false name?”

  Gudrun shook her head. “Either he has no phone or he’s gone ex-directory.”

  Three of them set off.

  178

  Neuperlach was still under construction. Ben did not know the area. He was at the wheel of Esther’s Renault 4, beside him sat Gudrun, with Lisa in the back. When Ben saw the densely planted, box-like tower blocks and the wide streets that cut through them like swathes, he shuddered.

  “Ghastly!” he said. Lisa did not comment, she was reminded of Gropiusstadt in the south of Neukölln, the same tower blocks, the same concrete, the same cranes towering all over the place, the same combination of construction sites and buildings that were already inhabited.

  “Is this where your brother lives?” Ben said in disbelief.

  “Yup—it’s cheap,” Gudrun said, looking out of the window. She did not say what was going through her mind, If he wants to punish himself, then let him. If he thinks that things can be cleansed through ugliness, then he has to live in an ugly place.

  They found the street, the house number and parked the car. They approached a building with at least fifteen floors, Gudrun said, He lives on the ninth. A hundred bells in rank and file, Gudrun found Scholz, she rang. There was a buzzing, Gudrun said, He knows we’re coming, I phoned him. Four lifts, one waiting on the ground floor, ninth floor, Lisa felt the acceleration. Then they were upstairs, two corridors, from each of which another two corridors branched off, Gudrun knew the way.

  Finally they stood outside a white door with a spyhole about two-thirds up. Gudrun rang again.

  When Heinrich Scholz saw his former classmate and housemate, he was unsure how to react. He looked as if he wanted simply to close the door again. But this was not an option.

  With a winning smile, Ben said, “My God, Heinrich, why didn’t you stay in our apartment, it was much nicer!”

  Heinrich smiled bitterly, he did not know how to respond, he had always avoided long conversations with Ben, who was far too quick, far too verbose. Far too ironic. He and Gudrun were well suited to each other.

  Lena appeared carrying little Michael, Gudrun took her nephew from her and gave him a kiss, Heinrich watched this scene and now stood uncertainly in the hall.

  “This is Lisa Kramer, by the way,” Ben said. “I presume Gudrun’s told you about her?”

  Heinrich nodded stiffly, Lisa found no opportunity to shake his hand. Eventually he brought himself to invite them into the sitting room. Lena offered them tea or coffee, Ben wanted coffee, Gudrun tea, Lisa nothing, Lena disappeared into the kitchen.

  The Scholz family had a brown-leather sofa suite, two pieces, one long and one short, set at a right angle to each other around a brass and glass coffee table, as well as a matching armchair on the other side. A large television set faced them, its back to the window. On the wall was a copy of an Arcimboldo painting.

  Heinrich sat on the sofa with his legs apart, his elbows resting on his thighs, his fingertips touching, looking tense and expectant, his head bowed, his eyes fixed on the glass top of the coffee table or the flokati rug beneath it.

  Gudrun sat beside him with Michael, the small boy watched Ben and Lisa.

  Ben cleared his throat, it was his job to break the ice. He grinned at Heinrich and said, “Do you remember when we used to play football in the Englischer Garten?”

  Heinrich looked up without lifting his head, he said, “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you fancy joining us some time? We still play on Wednesday evenings.”

  Heinrich shook his head. “Too far.”

  “But surely you’ve got a car. You could park at our place and we could cycle there together.”

  Heinrich shook his head, he said, “No, Ben, I haven’t been in that street since my eighteenth birthday. And you know why.”

  Ben nodded, “Yes, yes, I know, your father was an Obersturmbannführer and murdered people.”

  “Jews,” Heinrich said, casting him a furtive glance.

  Ben nodded. “I know, Jews, like me. But that’s not why we’re here today, Heinrich. Lisa’s come from Berlin because she’s hoping your father might be able to help her trace her parents.”

  “Jews?” He gave Lisa a searching look.

  Lisa nodded, she said, “They were Polish Jews. My mother was called Margarita and my father Tomasz Ejzenstain. My mother shot . . .”

  “. . . Sturmbannführer Karl Treitz, I know.”

  “But there was a Pole who lured the Sturmbannführer to her. His name was Piotr and that’s all I know, unfortunately.”

  Heinrich stared at the flokati through the glass, That rug needs cleaning, he thought, he looked up at Lisa, whose eyes were still fixed on him.

  “Maybe your father could help me, maybe he knew him,” she said.

  Heinrich nodded. Gudrun was now looking at him, little Michael was having fun with Ben, who was pulling faces and grinning at him.

  “What will you do if you get the information you need?”

  “I’ll try to find Piotr.”

  “What about him?” Heinrich said, gesturing toward Ben with his head.

  Interrupting his game, Ben said, “If you want, Heinrich, I won’t do anything.”

  “You say that.”

  “If you don’t believe me obviously I can’t do anything.”

  Heinrich thought carefully, he did not want to insult Ben openly. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but you’re not on your own.”

  “There’s me too, Heinrich,” Gudrun said all of a sudden. “I swear to you that I’ll see our father taken to court, whether it means having to go to the police or Simon Wiesenthal. Either you help this woman now, so she finds out something about her parents before any investigation, or you don’t.” She put Michael on his lap.

  “Have a good think about how you want your son to see you when he’s grown up. One thing’s for sure: I’ll tell him. I’ll say, Your father was too cowardly, he was more concerned to see your butcher of a grandfather get off than to help an orphan find out a little more about her murdered parents. Think about it, Heinrich, you know I’m talking sense.”

  She paused and stared at him. At no point had she become angry or upset. Now she was sitting beside her brother, as if she had just said how sweet his son was. Lisa was surprised, she would never have thought that this shy woman could deploy such strength. She looked at Ben, but he did not notice her, his eyes were fixed on Gudrun.

  Heinrich sat in silence, holding Michael. Lena came with tea and coffee on a tray. Like a waitress she set the drinks down in front of their visitors, then straightened up. Michael stretched his arms toward her, she went around the table and lifted him from her husband’s lap.

  “Give them the address, Heinrich!” she said. It sounded as if she finally wanted to be rid of the subject, or the people, or the feelings hanging in the room, or of everything at once. Heinrich did not move or meet anyone’s eye as he told them the address.

  “Thank you,” Lisa said, but she was looking at Gudrun.

  179

  “Hello?”

  Lisa recognized Anna’s voice.

  “Good morning Anna, I hope I’m not calling too early.”

  “Lisa! What a lovely surprise! No, it’s an hour later here. Are you alright? Is everything O.K.?”

  “Yes, don’t worry, Shimon and I are fine, we’re as happy as we could be.”

  “That’s a relief. I thought . . .”

  “No, no. He’s trying very h
ard. He and Tom are getting on fantastically. I’m calling because of something else. I don’t know quite how to tell you.” She broke off and looked at Esther, who was sitting opposite her at the dining table, watching anxiously.

  “Anna,” Lisa said slowly, “we’ve found someone you . . . you thought was dead. We . . . it’s . . .” She heard a terrified sound on the other end of the line. She paused, at a loss as to what to say next. What am I doing? she thought, and felt a sudden pain in her chest. “Anna, I’m really sorry, I ought to have kept my mouth shut, I’m so stupid, I . . .”

  Lisa could hear her crying. After a while Anna said softly, “Please forgive me, Lisa, I just needed to digest that.”

  “Of course, but . . .” Lisa stopped, sensing that every word she uttered was digging into a wound. “There’s something else.” Anna was silent. Taking a deep breath, Lisa said. “We went to see him, rang at his door, but he didn’t open. I think he’s scared. Esther, a friend of mine here in Munich, suggested we lie in wait and then overpower him. Maybe it’s no less than he deserves. But I don’t want to go that far, I don’t want to use violence. It would make me feel like . . . like a Nazi. That’s why I thought . . .” Lisa broke off. She did not dare articulate her request. She could hear Anna’s breathing and suspected that she had read her thoughts. Esther raised her eyebrows. Lisa shrugged. She was waiting.

  “O.K.” Anna said, pausing as if to be sure of her decision. “I’ll come to Munich.”

  180

  Anna sat by the telephone, staring into space. Not a single thought passed through her head. She saw. Josef Ranzner’s face above her. She lay. Naked on her back, her legs apart. Josef Ranzner’s sweat, dripping from his face onto hers, Josef Ranzner’s gaze, exploring her body, Josef Ranzner’s hands, holding her arms, Josef Ranzner’s stomach, lying on her stomach, Josef Ranzner’s sex, thrusting into her sex, Josef Ranzner’s rhythm, fast and clipped like a barrage, as if trying to penetrate right through her and out the other side, Josef Ranzner’s jaw muscles, grinding and grinding, as his eyes observe every movement of her face, because every movement heightens Josef Ranzner’s excitement. Josef Ranzner’s orgasm. Josef Ranzner’s exhaustion. Josef Ranzner’s withdrawal, his cold shoulder. No relief, only sorrow because Josef Ranzner has simply abandoned her like that, the rape reaches its climax after the climax, when Josef Ranzner leaves without a goodbye, when the door closes and Josef Ranzner turns his attention to more important things, while she lies there, a woman torn open, worthless, abused, discarded, used again and again and again and again by the lower ranks like a poor family’s only handkerchief, everyone has blown their nose now, at last we can chuck it away, nobody can use it anymore, not even us.

  Anna got up. She shook off the images. She thought of Abba. Abba the avenger, Abba the wise one, Abba the hero, Abba the criminal, Abba the poet. Abba had everything. All she had was forgetting and remembering, lies and the truth.

  Now she was in a hurry. She wrote her daughter a letter and left it on the kitchen table. She packed a small case, she called a taxi. She sat in the kitchen with her case and waited. When the bell rang she took her suitcase and left the apartment.

  She went straight to the airport. She bought a Lufthansa ticket. She had a coffee, she ate something.

  She had to wait three hours, but the time passed without her noticing. She sat at the gate, watching the people come and go, she heard their voices, she felt the presence of even more people moving above and below her, she sensed the vibration of the huge building she was in. The space inside her merged with the space in which she sat. When her flight was called she boarded the plane. She sat at her place by the window. When the plane took off she felt its entire weight heaving itself into the air, climbing higher and higher until it left the land behind and Anna Stirnweiss flew across the sea to where she came from.

  181

  The doorbell rang. As ever he went in the dark to the spyhole. He expected to see the three women standing there again, one of whom was without a shadow of doubt the reincarnation of Emma. Once more he would enjoy observing them through the spyhole, but of course he would not open the door, the whole thing seemed too suspicious. Behind it all, ultimately, was that young man who had called out Father, the one with the Karl Treitz mask.

  When he squinted into the corridor he saw a woman standing there looking at him, as if she could see through the spyhole directly into his eyes. He stepped back. But he had to peer through again, for this woman had unleashed something which could not be stopped.

  Although he told himself, She can’t see you, he was convinced the second time too, that she actually could. Her gaze bored so deeply into his soul, deeper than any other gaze had been able to, deeper even than he could see himself. Without his realizing it, his lips formed a silent word.

  Anna.

  He took off the chain, he turned the knob of the security lock, the bolt slid out, he pressed down the handle and slowly opened the door.

  The door opened slowly. Anna looked into Josef Ranzner’s eyes. His face was mapped with lines. Gudrun, who stood to one side of the door, slapped her hand over her mouth when she saw the state her father was in. He was stooped and had become small and emaciated, Anna towered above him, almost a head taller. They stared into each other’s eyes, Josef Ranzner stood there, looking expectant and trusting like a child. No fear, no guilt, no bad conscience, no defiance.

  “Please come in, Anna,” Ranzner said. His voice sounded thin and brittle. Turning sideways, awkwardly and with tiny steps, he opened the door wider and invited her in with a wave of his hand. Fear flashed inside Anna like a dazzling light that is immediately extinguished. What can he do to me? She nodded and went inside. Gudrun, Lisa and Esther followed, Ranzner ignored them.

  The apartment was clean and tidy, furnished simply but neatly. On the table in the sitting room was a pair of binoculars, there was a gap between the curtains, beyond that a patch of wasteland and more tower blocks.

  “Sit down, Anna,” Ranzner said. He pointed to a small, blue corduroy chair without armrests. Anna sat. Ranzner remained on his feet, he gazed at her, his face was peaceful. “Everything will be fine,” he said. “Would you like something to drink?” Anna nodded, Ranzner walked past the other women to the kitchen and returned with a glass of orange juice, he put it down in front of Anna and sat on a chair opposite. The table stood between them, Ranzner was sitting higher up than she was. When it dawned on Anna that all those years ago she had sat before him exactly like this, an icy shudder ran down her spine.

  “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to drink anything?” Anna picked up the glass and pretended to take a sip.

  Ranzner smiled at her and said, “So, where have you been?”

  “Cleaning up the blood stains,” Anna said. Ranzner did not understand. “From Sturmbannführer Treitz.” Now Ranzner understood. He nodded his approval.

  “Poor Treitz. I never found him.”

  Anna understood what he meant. “We must look for Piotr,” she said.

  “Piotr?”

  “The Pole who lured the Sturmbannführer into the trap.”

  “Oh, him, yes, yes, we have to look for him. But why, Anna?”

  “He knows where the Sturmbannführer is.”

  “How would he know that? He’s only a Pole. Poles don’t know anything, they’re stupid.”

  “Yes, they’re stupid, I know.”

  “Are you only saying that to please me, Anna?”

  “No, I know they’re stupid.”

  “How?”

  “Piotr told me where the Sturmbannführer is.”

  “That can’t be right or you’d know where he is.”

  “I’ve forgotten.”

  “You’re the stupid one, then.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re trying to deceive me, aren’t you, Anna? I can see right through you, you can’t fool me.”

  “No.”

  “No, Obersturmbannführer.”

  “No, Obersturmbannführer.
”

  “That’s better, Anna.” He smiled at her. “Drink,” he said. Anna took hesitant sips from the glass. She had no idea where this was going, she felt that at any moment she might leap up and run away. She collected herself.

  “Maybe you’ve just forgotten Piotr’s surname, that’s why you don’t want to look for him.”

  Ranzner raised his eyebrows and smiled again. “Of course I’ve forgotten. After all, he was just a Polack, a Kaminski.” He was still smiling.

  Anna stared at him. She said, “I’ve got to go now, Herr Ranzner.” She stood up. Ranzner got out of his chair, he came to her.

  “What a shame,” he said. “Maybe you’ll come back soon and we can talk more. It was wonderful to see you.”

  He offered her his hand, which was so soft and wrinkled, his handshake weak. Anna made for the door, Ranzner followed, they walked past the three women standing there like a silent Greek chorus, who had witnessed everything and were now following Ranzner to the door, Gudrun in tears, Lisa in shock, Esther shaking her head. Ranzner seemed not to notice they were there.

  When the women were out in the corridor, Anna turned and said, “Do you remember raping me in Konin, Herr Ranzner?”

  Ranzner nodded and said with a smile, “Oh yes, that was our favorite game, wasn’t it, Anna, it was always very nice. These days I can’t do it properly anymore. I can only look through the field glasses.” For a brief moment he seemed slightly melancholic, but then he pulled himself together and said, “If you see our children will you send them my regards?”

  Gudrun could not control herself any longer. She said, “I’m your daughter, Father!” Ranzner glanced in her direction, as if he had heard a noise, then his gaze returned to Anna.

  “I’ll be waiting for you every day,” he said. “See you soon, Anna.” He closed the door, leaving the four women in the corridor.