"How does it look?"
"Not too good, dear Mr. Jordan," said Schauberg. He did not look too good either. He was nervous. His smile was as forced as the irony in his voice. He gave me injections and drops and pills and examined my heart repeatedly. He examined my blood and tested my urine. Once I felt very sick but after a large whisky from my black bag I felt much better.
"It's drastic treatment," said Schauberg.
For dinner he opened cans of goulash, heated them on the stove, and served them with bread and beer.
"Would you like another beer? By the way, the Mousetrap has your blood in group."
"Who?"
"Don't you know her? Olga from the Herbertstrasse."
"Ah yes. I remember. When were you there?"
"Last night. I had to arrange for the medicines."
"I could have taken you into town!"
"No, we must never be seen together. It would be best if we were to meet tomorrow in the Herbertstrasse. The girls there all know me. I sometimes treat them."
"I understand."
"It won't be unusual if I'm there. The Mousetrap is a little anemic. So I'll do another bloodcount. We'll use her urine too. You have made an excellent impression on Madam Misere."
"rm so glad."
"Kathe thought you were charming, too." His tone was expressionless; Kathe obviously meant nothing to him.
I thought Madam's house was ideal to telephone Shirley who would be waiting at Gregory Bates' for my call tomorrow morning.
"Call tonight and have Kathe reserved for—^when are you to have your examination?"
"At nine."
"For eight then. Ill be there to give you the blood and urine you'll substitute. We'll have to watch the time; blood does not keep long. I'll give you the injection for your heart and you'll go straight to the doctor." His talking seemed to have exhausted him. He was very pale. Dark circles were suddenly under his eyes; his breath was labored. What if suddenly, halfway through the movie, he became ill or died?
"I know what you're thinking," he broke in. There again was the cold intelligence, the man who knew how to live with his addiction.
"You thought: If Schauberg has treated me three or four weeks, half-way through the movie he can demand more and I'll have to pay him—just so he'll give me more dope."
That was a new thought. I was silent.
"But, dear Mr. Jordan, after this movie you will have to go to a clinic. They will ask you who drugged you so unscrupulously. You could tell them and they could catch me in Europe, right?"
"Correct."
"You see, we are both in the same boat."
"I didn't complain. I knew we would have to trust each other."
I did not tell him what I had thought but after lunch I was reminded of it again. He became very sick and had to lie down. He was very embarrassed. Blamed it on the fog, and askedTne to take a little walk.
The fog had become so dense I could only see a few feet ahead. The foghorns on the Elbe'vessels were hooting. I walked up and down, reflecting on the uncertainty of the entire business.
When he called for me, he was once more as ironical and blase as he had been the night before. Soon I had forgotten my apprehensions.
I returned to the hotel about ten and made-^ny reservation with Madam, Such a charming lady!
The brightest sunlight next morning, though a cold day.
Everything had a clear, crisp look in that early light. The Herbertstrasse was quiet, the windows bare, the pimps asleep. Several well-dressed men arrived simultaneously with me.
The gentlemen for the early morning shift!
Madam's house was quiet too. Two gentlemen were greeted lovingly by their "reservation" and led up to the second floor. Kathe was in a black dress which had been fashionable for teenagers before the First World War. Button boots, stockings with embroidery and again a bow in her hair. I admired her dress. Madam, I was told, had bought at auction the entire stock of a theatrical costume company.
The table in the drawing room was set for breakfast. Flowers made it look attractive. The scent of lavender hung in the air.
"Has Dr. Schauberg arrived?"
"Not yet."
"I have to make a call. Is that possible?"
Kathe led me to Madam's office and I arranged for the call to Gregory Bates in Los Angeles. If my letters had
arrived, Shiriey should be waiting there. It was eleven o'clock at night in Los Angeles.
We left the door open and sat down to breakfast. Madam had been generous. Champagne, which I refused because I had to go to the doctor, and caviar, Kathe's favorite food. Her face glowed as a child's seeing a Christmas tree. "I'm so terribly happy, Mr. Jordan! Walter told me he is working for you!" "Yes, that's right."
"He said in only a few weeks we'll get married and leave Europe."
"Yes," I said for the second time. I ate rolls with butter and jelly and thought of how Schauberg would leave the blonde helpless Kathe once he had the fifty thousand.
"Many times, after I fled to the West, I wanted to kill myself. I was desperate. And now everything will be all right. It's like a fairy tale, I can't believe it!" I could not either. Poor Kathe! "Why did you leave the East?" "Because of seven eels." "Because of what?"
"I told you the other day how stupid I am. Something like that can only happen to me. You know I was conductress on a train in Leipzig. And one Friday night two drunk, but nice young men, got on my tram. With a huge basket fuU of eels. But I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Go on. The telephone call will take a little while to come through."
"But the eels belonged to the state." "I see."
"From a fish collective. Those two guys were supposed to take them to the state-owned store at Goetheplatz. One of them got a little fresh and to appease me they gave me seven eels."
"And you took them?"
"I was very happy to! As soon as I got home I ate one.
They were smoked eels. Well, the next morning the bell rang. State Security Police." She drank more champagne. "Or the waiter will drink it. You'll have to pay for the whole bottle anyway. Somebody in the tram had denounced me. And the eels were property of the people, right? So they took me to the fish factory and all the workers had to line up outside. They demanded I identify the two who had given me the eels. Those poor guys were white as sheets with fear."
I heard a door open and voices.
"There he is."
"Who?"
"Schauberg. And the Mousetrap. First he'll go to her and then he'll come down here. So I walked up and down."
"Where?"
"In the fish collective. I just told you about— ^
"Oh yes. And?"
"I told them it was not one of those here. They let me go then because I had to go to work, but at night they came back. And asked and threatened. And they came back every night. I still had six of those eels and they confiscated them." Kathe's face reflected sadness and indignation. "Eel is very rich! I couldn't eat all of them in one night. They told my landlady I was an enemy of the German Democratic Republic. She was in Dresden and was burned by phosphorus, and ever since then she has been funny. She was so afraid, she told me to move. The tram authorities told me they would have to transfer me to a tractor association if I couldn't remember who had given me those eels. And those guys from the State Security Police came every day! Sometimes they went through my things before I got home. Questions, questions! So I finally fled. Now tell me. Only a stupid person can get in a mess like that, right?"
"How do you mean?"
"Any normal person would have pointed out those two guys and that would have been the end of that, right?"
The telephone rang. It was my call.
"Gregory? This is Peter! Did you get my letter?"
"Yes, I did. I just mailed one to you, Peter."
"Something went wrong?"
"Fm afraid so."
"Shirley?"
"Shirley is all right. She is right here. You can talk
with her in a moment. Something else ..."
"What happened? Tell me!"
"It's very difficult on the phone. I have to be careful."
"Tell me!"
"I see only one possibility. You'll have to ask Joan and Shirley to come to Hamburg right away."
From Gregory's letter and later from Shirley, I found out what actually had happened in Los Angeles.
Shirley had received my letter and, according to my instructions, had called Gregory. He, following my request, had called Joan. He told her he wanted to hire Shirley. Since he was going to need documentary material, he wanted to look at old newsreels at the Fox archives. Because it might ^et late, could Shirley stop by for him at his apartment before driving to the studios. Smart Gregory. He thought he had thought of everything.
On this twenty-eight of October it was hot in Los Angeles. Shirley drove to Gregory's house in Clarence Park.
Gregory was a little older than I, tall, slim, and prematurely gray. His good nature, his wealth and his charm made him one of the most sought-after bachelors in Los Angeles. He had known Shirley as long as I had. During the war he had been a bomber pilot. The fragment of a German anti-aircraft gun had left him with a permanent limp.
"Now, Shirley, don't worry. Your old Uncle Greg has arranged everything."
They drove to the busy Romaine Office Building at Santa Monica and Holloway Drive.
The express elevator took them to the twenty-third floor. They walked past open doors. Through one they saw an auctioneer accepting bids for a surrealistic painting.
The sign on the door said, paul arrowhead, m.d.
The young nurse who opened the door looked pale and disturbed. Shirley and Gregory, nervous themselves, did not notice. They also did not notice the nurse's eyes trying to warn them of the young man standing close behind her.
"Hello, nurse. We have and appointment. My name is—"
"I know, sir," the nurse interrupted. "Please come in. The doctor is expecting you."
Gregory was still unobservant.
"There's no one ahead of us? This young man?"
The young man was just waiting for a certificate. The nurse opened a door. '
In Dr. Arrowhead's office stood two men in shirtsleeves, shoulder holsters holding forty-fives under their left arms. A third, older man in a sweat-stained shirt sat behind a white desk. He was smoking a pipe.
An open door led to an examination room. There, among heat-ray lamps, instrument cupboards, and oper-* ating table, perhaps half a dozen girls and women, stiff as statues, stood silently, scared and embarrassed. No one
spoke. On a white couch near the window sat a man in a white coat, his head in his hands. He was the only one who did not look up. It was Dr. Arrowhead.
Everything happened very quickly. The young man from the waiting room was trying to push Gregory into the office. "Go in, please. The inspector will—"
He could not finish. Gregory reaUzed what was going on. He turned and hit the detective who stepped back, stumbled into a chair, and fell.
Gregory pushed Shirley toward the office entrance. Shirley ran. Gregory followed slamming the door before the detective reached it.
"Not to the elevator. Over there!"
Shirley ran to the open door of the gallery. She heard Gregory call, "I'll follow later . . ." Slowmg down, she half-turned and saw Gregory disappear through a door of a plastics company. Shirley heard voices and steps in the haU.
"Howard, Hughes! Down there!"
Shirley moved carefully away from the door.
"This is number one-fourteen in the catalogue. 'The End of the World' by Lazarus Strong ..." The auctioneer went on.
"They can't have gone very far!"
Steps. Voices. Shirley stood still. No one had taken notice of her.
We'll never get away from here. They'll find us, Shirley thought. Slowly she continued to move along the wall toward the rear of the large crowded gallery.
"Why don't you watch out?" She had bumped into a
lady in a salmon-colored dress sitting in the last row. Artificial fruits adorned her hat.
"Beg your pardon," whispered Shirley.
8
"One thousand dollars, ladies and gentlemen. Do I hear twelve hundred?"
"Twelve hundred!" cried the lady with the hat and raised her hand.
^Thirteen hundred!"
"Fourteen hundred." Other hands were raised.
"I'm bid sixteen hundred. Do I hear sixteen fifty?"
"Sixteen fifty."
"Seventeen. Anyone else?"
There was uncle Greg!
She saw him standing by the door looking for her. What if they could get away?
"Eighteen hundred. Who bids eighteen hundred for *End of the World'?" The auctioneer raised his head.
"Uncle Greg," called Shirley softly.
"Sh . . ." said the lady with the hat furiously.
Gregory had not heard. Shirley waved to him. He nodded and made his way toward her.
"Eighteen hundred once, eighteen hundred twice . . . Sold to the young lady on the right in the last row. Thank you," All faces were turned to Shirley who still held her arm extended. An employee of the gallery came to her. "Will this be cash or check, Miss?"
"What? Me? Why? For what?"
"The painting, of course. It was just sold to you. You bid eighteen hundred dollars."
"But I only waved to this gentleman."
"What's the matter, Watts?"
"The young lady says she doesn't want the painting."
The auctioneer in black suit, white shirt, and silver tie said sharply, "What do you mean?"
"A misunderstanding, gentlemen. Allow me to—" But they did not let Gregory finish.
Someone said, "Call the police!"
"Not necessary," said a deep voice. The inspector and the detectives stood in .the entrance.
"And then?"
Gregory had been talking most cautiously, but I could visualize exactly what had happened. In Madam's office I held the receiver in both hands. I was very calm, as if all this had nothing to do with me.
"They took all of us to the precinct on Wilshire Boulevard. My lawyer came and they released us at six after I had raised bail."
"Yes?"
"All the women were examined."
"I see." Now they knew Shirley was pregnant.
"They will be examined again in four weeks' time. And then once more. You understand?"
"Yes." It meant no one in the entire country could help Shirley now.
"They preferred charges against the man we went to see. With witnesses. You understand?"
"Yes."
"The police wanted to call Joan . .."
"Joan!"
". . . Until my lawyer told them I was the one . . ." That he was the father of Shirley's child.
"I don't know if they are going to be satisfied with that. My law^'er says any day now someone could go and see
Joan. That's why I think it best if you have Joan and Shirley come to Hamburg as quickly as possible."
"But if Shirley is supposed to be examined again . . ."
"My lawyer says as long as I'm here he can take care of it. You'll have to stay in Europe for a while. A lot of things happen there which cannot be ascertained from here. Right?"
"Yes, Gregory. And thanks."
"Call Joan today. Time is of the essence. Here is Shirley now. Bye, Peter. Take care."
"Thanks again."
"Peter?" When I heard Shirley's weak voice I realized the enormity of the crime I had committed.
"My sweet . . . trust me ... I love you ... I love you. I'll call Joan today. . . . You'll come over here ... as quickly as possible ..." I could only talk haltingly.
"Yes, Peter."
"We'll make it..."
"Yes, Peter."
"Everything will turn out well..."
"Yes, Peter." Her voice was low. "But it will have to be soon. I can't stand it much longer."
"You'll be here with me in a fe
w days."
"Yes, Peter. Yes."
Then I sat staring at the telephone. I could not think. And now this. It was too much. Any moment the police might talk to Joan. Perhaps they had already. Perhaps she already knew. ^
". . . matter, Mr. Jordan?" I only heard the last few words of the sentence. Schauberg looked at me. "Trouble?"
"Yes. No. Yes."
"Listen, you'll have to pull yourself together! In half an hour you'll see the doctor."
"Yes, Yes, of course . . ."
"Damn it all! Did you have to telephone this morning of all mornings?"
As if I had suddenly lost my reason, I yelled, "Yes I did, if you don't mind!"
"Dear Mr. Jordan, let's not have a scene," he said with contempt. He extracted a metal case from his jacket and took out a syringe and ampoule. "Take off your jacket and push up your sleeve." He gave me an injection and massaged my arm. "I've done all I could to help you. Now it's up to you. I'll wait here for your call. You'U come to the camp in the afternoon."
"Why not sooner?"
"I'll have to buy myself some clothes." Schauberg handed me two test tubes filled with blood and one with urine. "You know what to do?"
"Yes."
He looked at his watch. "Youll have to leave. I'll take care of the bill here and you'll square it later." He slapped my back. "Good luck."
Carefully I stowed away the tubes. I went to the Reeper-bahn where my car was parked. Sanitation trucks were cleaning the streets.
I had promised him and myself not to drink before the examination. As soon as I sat behind the wheel of my car I knew I could not keep that promise. The talk with Gregory and Shirley had drained me. I was convinced I could not even drive unless I had a drink. Just a little drink. Everything would look better then. I opened the black bag.
10
With a furious cry the huge movie producer seized the heavy bronze lamp. In vain, I tried to evade him, to protect my head with my hands. The base of the bronze lamp came whistling through the air onto the back of my head. Without a sound, I collapsed on the gray carpeting. A
dark red stain quickly spread underneath my head. I did not move any more. This was November second, 1959.
"Cut! Thank you," said the director. "Excellent. Just to be quite sure we'll do it once more."
"Lights!"
"Make-up!"
The Berlin Connection Page 12