"Not at all," said the gaunt man. "But so much money "
"Yes. Four thousand marks," said Fr&ulein Louise, and thought immediately: I shouldn't have said that.
"Four thousand? And the bag opens so easily," cried the gaunt man. "You should be more careful."
"I know I should," said Fr&ulein Louise.
The two laborers hadn't noticed a thing. They paid and went off, still talking and laughing. And more and more people streamed into the station. A loudspeaker began to make announcements. Fr&ulein Louise couldn't understand a word that was being said. She was still much too excited.
"Reimers," said the gaunt man, introducing himself with a slight bow. "Wilhelm Reimers."
"Pleased to meet you," said Fr&ulein Louise. "My name is Gottschalk."
"Have you come a long way?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You have an accent. Austrian, isn't it?"
"No. It's Sudeten German. But I've come from Neurode, from the youth camp there, near Bremen."
"Oh, yes," said Reimers. "Neurode. I've heard about it. There's a big moor there, isn't there?"
"Yes."
"It must be a terribly lonely place."
"Yes, it is. And when you come to a big city suddenly, it makes you nervous, you know, Herr Reimers."
"I can imagine." Reimers was a little more animated now. "But I guess you know Hamburg well."
"No, I don't," Fraulein Louise said sadly. Tm afraid I don't know my way around anymore at all. It's been so long since I was here, and when I think of all the places I've got to go to—"
"Where do you have to go to?"
"To—" Fraulein Louise stopped. Careful, she told herself. I'm talking too much. I talked too much to the Jehovah's Witness who wasn't a Jehovah's Witness but turned out to be a psychiatrist. I must be more careful. "Oh ... to all sorts of places."
"If you should happen to need a guide," he said hopefully, "that's what I am."
"A guide? What sort of a guide?"
"A tourist guide," said Reimers. "You can engage me by the hour. I know Hamburg like my own pocket. Herr Fritz here has known me for years." He gestured in the direction of the fat man in a white smock, working behind the lunch counter with two girls.
"Yes, indeed," said Herr Fritz. "Nobody knows Hamburg the way Herr Reimers does. I can recommend him highly if you need a guide."
"I've been breakfasting here for the last three years," said Reimers. "I live just around the corner, so I find it convenient. I get up early and come straight here. Express trains from all over Europe will be arriving soon."
Fr&ulein Louise looked at Reimers reflectively. She liked him. She would have liked the company of a man, but she didn't know anything about this one. Be careful, she told herself again. Watch what you're doing, Louise!
Reimers had pulled out his identification card and was holding it out to her. "In case you don't think I'm telling the truth."
"He's telling the truth, all right," said Herr Fritz, who was slicing hard rolls. "Herr Reimers has his clients every day, lady, and never any complaints."
But FrSulein Louise was still hesitant. "Do you enjoy doing this?" she asked. "Now, in November? Getting up in the dark? Breakfasting here? Waiting around, so early? In all weathers? Even when it's raining, as it is today?"
"I've risen early all my life," said Reimers, "and always liked it. Fresh air, interesting people, so many foreigners. I speak four languages." He bowed again. "And that's the truth. Besides, I need the money. I'm dependent on what I can earn on the side."
"Don't you have a decent pension?" asked Fraulein Louise. "A
man your age—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Why not? 'A man my age'—sixty-nine. No, I don't have a decent pension." He laughed wryly. Thank God, one can talk about it now, and I usually tell it right away. Then whoever doesn't want me can forget it."
"What do you usually teD right away, Herr Reimers?"
"What's wrong with me... what was wrong with me."
"And what was that?"
"I was an SS leader," said Reimers, still smiling.
Fr&ulein Louise started. An SS leader! She looked at Reimers sharply; he was looking at her calmly. Was this her friend, the SS leader? After what had just happened to her on the train, she couldn't take any chances. She had to be cautious, very cautious.
"Are you horrified or disgusted?" asked Reimers.
"No, nol" said Fr&ulein Louise. "Only—it's so sudden. And I didn't expect—although—"
"Although?"
"Although you look like an officer. I thought that right away." She hesitated, then she asked, "It must have been difficult for you after the war, no?"
"IH say it was," he replied. "First I was arrested by the Amis. Prisoner-of-war camp." Fr&ulein Louise started again. No, she thought then, it could be a trap. "I didn't do anything wrong, not in Russia or France. Nothing. Herr Fritz knows my whole story."
"Herr Reimers was a decent SS man," said Herr Fritz, stuffing sausages in the rolls. Two men in overalls, who looked like dockworkers, were standing at the counter now. One of the girls was waiting on them. "I've seen all his papers. That's why he only had to be in camp two years, and nothing happened to him during the denazification, either."
"No. Nothing at all," said Reimers, with the same wry smile. "But after the denazification I got tuberculosis. I caught it at the camp. So I had to go to a sanatorium, two years more, and another year to convalesce. Before the war I worked quite a long time in a factory. I tried to go back to work there—"
Factory, thought Fr&ulein Louise. Now all he has to say is that it was a pickle factory. "What kind of a factory?" she asked.
"Paint," said Reimers.
Take it easy, Fr&ulein Louise told herself. Not a pickle factory. Good sign? Bad sign? Is this my friend? Or isn't it? / must not take any risksl But I'm sure it's he!
"Yes. But in the meantime I had passed fifty, and they didn't
want to give me the same job I'd had before. I suppose they couldn't. I think what they'd really have liked to do was turn me away. But in the end they gave me a job in the shipping department until I was eligible for a pension at sixty-five. Then I was out. They figured the pension to include the two years I'd been a prisoner-of-war, thank GodI But you can imagine that it doesn't begin to suffice." He stopped and looked at her sharply. Herr Fritz was staring at her, too.
Fraulein Louise said, "You know, if I take a taxi, I won't really need a guide."
'That's perfecdy all right," said Reimers. "It was just a suggestion."
"But where I have to go... I've never been there before. Sankt Pauli."
"Hm," said Reimers.
"Yes. You see? I could do with some protection there." If only I knew he was my friend or not, she thought. If he is, and I don't accept his help, it could be my misfortune. Perhaps ... on the other hand, what can happen? She asked, "How much do you charge the hour?"
'Ten marks." he said quickly.
"Ten marks?" She looked stunned.
"The official guides charge a lot more, especially those who speak foreign languages."
"But I don't need anyone like that, and you're not an official guide! Five."
"Eight."
"Seven," said Fr&ulein Louise.
"All right," said Reimers. He couldn't take his eyes off Fraulein Louise's bag, but she didn't notice it, because she was paying for her coffee and sandwiches. At last Reimers was able to look away and paid, too.
Fr&ulein Louise walked toward the exit with the tall, thin man. She had taken her folded umbrella out of her bag, and as they walked out into the dark and rain, she opened it. Streetcars drove by, their bells clanging; cars passed, long columns with their lights still on; people were hurrying along, pushing their way through the crowded street. Oh God! thought Fr&ulein Louise. And it's scarcely day! What will it be like later? It's a good thing, after all, that the SS leader turned up. It's going to be just as my friends prophesied.
Reimers hail
ed a taxi, opened the door, and let FrSulein 296
Louise get in. He got in after her. "Sankt Pauli," he said to the sleepy driver.
"Reeperbahn. Silbersackstrasse. King Kong," said Fraulein Louise. She had written the address and name of the nightclub in her little notebook and had memorized them on the train. The tired driver looked at the strange couple in his rearview mirror. You never know, he thought, and said, "That's closed now."
"We've got to go there anyway," Fraulein Louise said firmly.
"It's all the same to me," said the driver, and he drove off up Moncksbergstrasse, where things were getting quite lively. The streetlights were still on, and so were the glittering neon signs.
"Oh, God, oh, God!" said Fr&ulein Louise.
"What's the matter?" asked Reimers.
"This city... this mysterious city," said Fraulein Louise, and had to think of her dream again, and shivered.
"What's brought you to Hamburg anyway, and to Sankt Pauli?" asked the former SS man.
"A murder," said Fr&ulein Louise, and the driver almost went into a skid. "But it's a complicated story. Anyway, it's personal."
"Oh, but then I'd like to know it," said Reimers. However, he moved a little away from her. She noticed it.
"Do you think I'm making all this up?"
"I beg your pardon!"
"Or are you afraid you won't get your money?"
"With a lady like you—never!" he cried, and thought what a hard life he was leading. He said so aloud. "It's a hard life I'm leading, at my age. I lied to you before. I like to sleep late. This getting up so early will be the death of me. But I've got to look for clients, don't I?" And the driver thought again that he ought to write a book about his experiences. It w(j)uld be a best seller.
When Fr&ulein Louise and Wilhelm Reimers got out of the taxi in front of King Kong, it was pouring, and it still hadn't grown light. The street was deserted, the rain drummed on the sidewalk. "I'm sorry," said Reimers, "but would you mind ... the taxi?"
He was holding Fr&ulein Louise's umbrella over her.
"Of course," she said. The driver told her what she owed him, and she gave him a twenty-pfennig tip. Thank you very much," he said ironically, and drove off so fast that the water at the curb splashed.
Fr&ulein Louise turned around and saw the glass cases with the photographs to right and left of the entrance. They were still lit. Fr&ulein Louise walked up to them, and her mouth fell open. "Nol" she cried, shocked to the core. "But this—this is—Herr Reimersl How dare they—"
"Don't look at them," he said quickly, and steered her to the entrance. "I'm sure they're closed."
"I don't think so," said Fr&ulein Louise, with the clairvoyance that so often came to her.
"You'll see I'm right," said Reimers. He had pressed down the handle of the door and it opened. "What did I tell you?" said Fr&ulein Louise.
He let her go in first and lifted the heavy curtain at the end of the checkroom. Fr&ulein Louise walked into the nightclub and stopped abruptly. "Oh, dear JesusI" she whispered.
The ceiling light was burning, cold and ugly in the big room with its many booths and small stage. About thirty men and girls were sitting or lounging on chairs—waiters, the doorman, the bouncer, bar girls, strippers, and their partners. The strippers were wearing bathrobes, but the bar girls were still in evening dress, the waiters and doorman in their uniforms. The latter had on his visor cap and had put his legs up on a table. A few other men had, too—the three grenadiers, for instance, in their fancy uniforms. FrSulein Louise looked at the scene with a total lack of comprehension.
There were full ashtrays, empty soup bowls*, and coffee cups on the tables, and many empty botdes and glasses. The blond pianist, still in his tuxedo, was playing sof dy: "If I Were a Rich Man." Now he stopped. Nobody moved. They looked like figures in a wax museum, everybody staring at Fr&ulein Louise and her companion.
"Good morning,'' said Frfiulein Louise, summoning up her courage at last. Thank goodness my SS leader came with me, she thought.
"Good morning," said the young man at the piano. Nobody else said a word.
"I would like to speak to Herr Concon," said Fr&ulein Louise.
Nobody answered. 298
"Didn't you hear me? I want to speak to Herr Concon."
Baby Blue, Catherine the Great a few hours ago, drew her robe tighter around her land said slowly, "Which Herr Concon?"
"What do you mean? I want to speak to Herr Karl Concon," said Fraulein Louise, staring at Baby Blue.
"Father and son are both called Karl, so which one do you want to speak to?"
"I don't know. How old is the father? Around forty?"
"Ha!" said Baby Blue.
A waiter said, "That's the son."
"So, all right. Then I want to speak to the son," said Fraulein Louise.
"You can't speak to him," said Baby Blue. "He's dead."
"What?" cried Fraulein Louise.
"What?" cried Reimers.
"Dead," said Baby Blue. "Murdered. In the Paris Hotel on the Kleine Freiheit. Sometime in the night. And you can't speak to old Concon either—anyway, not right now. The police took him to the hotel."
"The police?"
4 Tes. Homicide," said Baby Blue, while the others sat there, immobile. "They questioned us, too, then they went off with old Concon. To identify the body. They said they'd be back. None of us are supposed to leave. So we're waiting. We thought it was somebody from the police when we heard the door open."
"He has been murdered," Fr&ulein Louise murmured, and sank down in one of the plush armchairs. Her hat had tipped forward on her forehead. She looked ridiculous. "Murdered. ... By whom?"
"You're a panic," said Baby Blue. "If the police knew who, we wouldn't be sitting here. Nobody knows. The old man collapsed. It's terrible for him. What a thing to happen 1 What's the matter with you? Why are you staring at me?"
"You—" Fraulein Louise swallowed hard. "You—"
"What about me?"
"I just saw your picture. Outside. How—how can you do such a thing? Don't you know that you are a dreadful sinner? How could you—?"
"Oh, shut up!" Baby Blue cried angrily.
"Now look here—" Reimers started to say, but Baby Blue didn't let him finish. "And you shut up, too, you dirty old man! Hein, I think it's time you took over."
The tall, lithe bouncer, wearing a sailor's cap and a
horizontally striped short-sleeved shirt, got up slowly and threateningly. "StopI" cried Fr&ulein Louise. "Everybody is free to do as he likes with his life, if he doesn't think of later "
"I think of later," said Baby Blue. "Later IT1 have enough money to open a little bar of my own, and then I'm not going to screw anybody for a whole year. Besides, what I'm doing is art. You don't seem to realize that. Erotic theater. I'm an artist. All of us are artists." She waved a hand to include all the strippers.
"Oh, I see. Artists." Fr&ulein Louise was impressed.
"Yes," said Baby Blue. "And what are you?"
"I'm only a social worker from the youth camp in Neurode." Fr&ulein Louise didn't notice how the immobile figures came to life suddenly and took their feet off the tables. Some got up and whispered to each other. She was looking at Baby Blue with a friendly expression now. "My name is Louise Gottschalk," she said, "and this Herr Concon, who has been murdered, as you say, was at the camp yesterday afternoon and tried to kidnap somebody."
"Yes," said Baby Blue, appeased. "A young girl."
"You know about it?" Now Frfiulein Louise was looking at all of them. The men and girls nodded. "But how do you happen to know?"
"And how do you happen to be here?" asked Baby Blue.
"Because I am looking for the girl. And for the murderer of little Karel."
"Of whom? 9 * asked Baby Blue.
"Another murder?" cried one of the waiters.
"Now listen here!" The SS leader was addressing Fr&ulein Louise. Suddenly he looked pale. "You should have told me what you were letting me in f
or!"
"Don't get excited, Herr Reimers," said FrSulein Louise. "I'm not doing anything wrong. On the contrary, I want to see justice done."
"I think I'd better leave."
"No, no. Stay, please. I—" FrSulein Louise was struggling with herself. "Ill pay you ten marks an hour!"
"Ten marks an hour? For what?" asked Baby Blue. "And what about this second murder?"
Fr&ulein Louise made a tired gesture. "While Herr Concon was at the camp, somebody was shot. A little boy. His name was Karel."
"The police didn't say anything about that," said one of the strippers.
"The police didn't say anything," said the doorman. "They just asked questions."
"Then how do you know about the girl Herr Concon tried to kidnap?"
"From Fred."
"Who is Fred?"
"The piano player."
"That young man?"
"Yes."
"Tell Fr&ulein Gottschalk your story again, Fred," Baby Blue said to the piano player.
He looked at Fr^ulein Louise. He had beautiful, strangely glassy eyes. Fr&ulein Louise got up and hurried through the room to where the piano was standing. She took Fred's right hand in hers and shook it vigorously. And suddenly she felt something akin to an electric shock. It prickled through her entire body, as if a current were passing from the frail pianist to her. He sat at the piano, young and shy, and Fr&ulein Louise had the absolutely positive feeling that this was her dead labor camp friend. My student! she thought. Yes, yes, it is he! This time she was so sure of herself that she said, "You've studied music, haven't you? But not only music. You studied something else, too, didn't you?" She spoke softly. The others couldn't hear.
"Yes," said Fred. "Philosophy. A few semesters. Then I stopped."
"I know all about it, don't I?" said Frfiulein Louise.
"You certainly seem to." Fred's voice was gentle and friendly. There he sat, the favorite of all her dead friends! In the body of a living man!
"I'm FrSulein Louise, you know," she said again, with a strange, sweet sensation in her heart. "So tell me—how did you find out?"
The Traitor Blitz Page 33