The Prize

by Irving Wallace

  He placed a finger on her dry lips. ‘It’ll work out. Now-sleep.’

  When he withdrew his hand, her eyes were closed. With love, he remained standing over the innocent face, so much now a part of him, and when the rhythmic rise and fall of her breasts beneath the sweater told him that she was soundly asleep, he left her.

  The door behind him had been softly opened, and the diminutive physicist, holding his top hat, gestured with it for Craig to come into the other room.

  As Craig approached, Krantz said, ‘I have explained everything. Professor Walther Stratman will see you now.’

  Craig hung back for a second, trying to organize his thinking. He had struggled hard for this meeting, and now that it was here, he had no idea what he would say. He knew what he had intended to say, but at once it seemed less possible. All that he was positive of was that the meeting was in some way necessary and critically important. But then, as he started towards Krantz, he wondered: important for the sake of Emily and Walther and Max Stratman, or important, selfishly, for himself?

  He passed before Krantz into the main stateroom.

  It was a good-sized room, luxuriously furnished with a wardrobe that had sliding doors, a dresser, a blond Swedish desk, a lavatory on the starboard side, and a brightly covered cot. Drawn up to the cot was a small round table, and behind the table, seated on the cot, was the hunched figure of a red-faced, big-headed elderly man with thin white hair neatly combed. He was in shirt-sleeves with old-fashioned armbands, the shirt striped, its collar open, with the stringy maroon tie knot drawn down. When he stood, bones cracking, his trousers, open at the belt, became baggier.

  Krantz had guided Craig to him. ‘Professor Walther Stratman, this is Mr. Andrew Craig.’

  Walther’s left hand held a half-filled glass, but his heavily veined right hand was extended. ‘So you are the formidable Nobel winner from America. I am proud to meet you.’

  Craig shook hands awkwardly. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, sir.’ He could see nothing of Emily in this weak old man with the prominent nose. Rebecca, he thought. Emily must the image of her mother Rebecca.

  ‘Draw a chair, sit down with me,’ Walther was saying, as he settled on the cot once more. He held up his glass-too rapidly, for some of the drink splashed and spilled on his trousers, and Craig, seasoned in such matters, guessed it was not his first drink-and then he pointed to the bottle on the table.

  ‘I am celebrating my freedom,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Vodka. Not so potent as what I have known in captivity, but it will do. Have some, Mr. Craig-a little sunshine for the stomach, as my Russian friends like to say.’

  For some reason that he could not fathom, Craig was perturbed by the sight of the alcohol and the idea of drinking at a time as critical as this. Then, out of fairness, searching himself further, he realized that his disturbed reaction was based on his personal guilt. In his own life, there had been so many times of crisis in recent years, and he had always avoided them by burying his head in a bottle. Now, with more sympathy for Walther, he had the urge to warn the old man of the consequences of this weakness-like all reformed drunks, he told himself-and at once he felt easier and more understanding.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Craig said to Walther. ‘I’m saving myself for the Nobel party tonight.’

  ‘Umm, party, yes.’ Walther looked up. ‘Dr. Krantz, do give our visitor a chair.’

  Krantz obliged instantly, and then melted into the bench at the dresser and occupied himself with a metal puzzle, pretending not to listen.

  As Craig took his place across from Walther, the old man swallowed his drink, hiccuped, and said loudly, ‘So-it is a pleasure to meet the good friend of my brother and the suitor of my only child.’

  Something about this dismayed Craig slightly. Perhaps it was Walther’s unexpected exuberance. He had envisioned meeting a beaten and hollow derelict of a man, a slave and sufferer, one long yoked and broken by the Soviets, and instead he found himself confronting a hale and boisterous hostage. Craig realized that the façade of weakness he saw was one he had built in his own mind and imposed upon Walther. It had no reality. Craig felt cheated.

  ‘I’m not really a good friend of your brother’s,’ he found himself saying, ‘but I would like to be. We’ve only met here in Stockholm.’

  ‘But my daughter-ah, you will not deny that.’ Walther Stratman winked, and poured himself a new vodka.

  ‘No, I will not deny that, sir. I’m extremely fond of her.’

  ‘And she-what does she say to this?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Walther grinned in a conspiracy of his making. Two gold teeth shone. ‘Well, we shall see. Once we are all in America-we shall see-you will have a friend in court.’

  Walther’s reference to America dismayed Craig further. It anticipated and smashed his line of attack before he could launch it. He was left without an alternative plan.

  ‘-extremely pleased with her,’ he heard Walther saying. ‘She has developed as I hoped on that day we were torn apart. She is the pride of my old age.’

  Craig nodded. ‘Yes, I agree. Max has done a wonderful job.’

  Walther’s head came up from his glass. ‘Max, you say?’ He was about to make some comment, but appeared to recall it and alter it. ‘Max has done well, yes. But I hold heredity more dominant than environment. So-you will give me some of the credit?’

  ‘I certainly will, sir.’ Craig paused, and determined not to continue in this fashion. He must make clear the object of his visit. ‘You must have been extremely surprised to be brought here from Moscow-’

  ‘Leningrad.’

  ‘-from Leningrad, on such short notice.’

  ‘I was,’ agreed Walther. He stared at Craig, and at once his eyes filled and filmed, and his lower lip worked. ‘I had long ago given up hope of seeing Emily again. Or freedom, for that matter. I thought I would live out my years and die in that hell.’ He was thoughtful and sadder for quiet seconds. ‘How often, how constantly, my mind would go back to the happier days before the war, and then the miserable days when Max and I worked for the Nazis to keep Rebecca and Emily alive in Ravensbruck. Still, in the war days, there was always hope. But once the war was ended, all hope ended-there could be no hope. The decision I made, that night in 1945, to let Max go free-escape to the Americans, in my place-was both calculated and emotional. It was calculated because, at that time, Max was further advanced in his work than I was, and I knew he would offer more to the cause we both believed in. It was emotional, because Max was my younger brother, and I felt it my duty to see that he survived. After that, when the Russians had me, I thought they would punish me with death since they suspected I had aided Max. But then they had my records, and decided I would be more useful alive. They are a most pragmatical race, the Russians, with no emotional foolishness or waste as in America.’ Walther sipped his drink. ‘They sent me seventy miles away from Moscow to the place called Dubna, where they have their Nuclear Research Institute. It was their intention that I resume nuclear work, but then, in examining me, they learned of an early scientific paper on the bubonic plague that I had once published, and they demanded that I become a member of their biological warfare research unit under Dr. Viktor Glinko. I found this abhorrent, and at first I refused. I pleaded that I was a physicist, not a bacteriologist. I told them I had only an amateur’s knowledge of bacteriology. They would not be put off. They said that I knew enough already, and that I would be taught mo re while I worked. I saw that I had no choice, so reluctantly I entered the project. During our first test, there was a tremendous accident, a blast, a fire, in the adjoining nuclear plant. Many on our project were killed or maimed. I was fortunate enough-as it turns out now-to survive. While I was hospitalized, the B.W. project was reactivated with greater funds. Once more, I saw that I would have to participate, but this time, shrewdly, I bargained with them. I agreed to do this work-co-operate, I said-if they, in turn, would bring me some news of Rebecca and Emily, my links to sanity. The Russians
obliged, and I then co-operated, and have been forced to do the work ever since-despite my hatred of it-under the name of Dr. Lipski. The name was given me in the hospital, when we made our bargain-a political nonsense-so that those in the Western world, who knew of my old paper, could not put two and two together, and deduct that experiments were being made to develop a mutant type of disease.’ He stopped, and fell to reflecting on what had happened, and then he swallowed his vodka. ‘So-I have served my sentence, and here I am.’

  ‘Did you know exactly why you were being flown to Stockholm?’ Craig inquired.

  ‘Yes, yes, it was all made clear.’

  ‘The trade for your brother?’

  ‘Of course. It is not a happy condition, but in some ways reasonable enough.’ Then he added defensively, ‘Max has had his milk and honey, thanks to me. Now it is my turn. I look forward with all my heart to this new freedom. I feel exactly like Edmond Dantès when he replaced the corpse of the Abbé Faria, and acquired freedom from the Château d’If and the riches of Monte Cristo. You understand?’

  Craig felt traitorous to this old man, who did not know the purpose that had brought Craig to this stateroom. ‘I understand,’ said Craig. ‘Still, it must be difficult for you. I mean, you’ve been through enslavement, and now you know what you are sending your own brother into.’

  The blotches on Walther’s cheeks seemed to deepen. ‘It is not so bad as all that,’ he said loudly. ‘Do not be deceived by propaganda. Do not be victimized by the reactionary press of the Morgans and Rockefellers. Max will be treated well in Russia.’

  ‘In East Germany, Walther,’ Krantz’s voice piped from the rear.

  ‘Yes, East Germany,’ agreed Walther. He faced Craig again. ‘But to return to the situation in the Soviet Union a moment. Our family lives well in Leningrad.’

  ‘Your family?’

  Walther blinked at Craig. ‘That is what I said-our family of German scientists. They respect us as America or England would not. We are the élite.’

  A prick of annoyance-unfair, after all this old man had been through-urged Craig to a defence. ‘Scientists are as well respected in the United States. Your brother is a prime example.’

  ‘An exception-an exception,’ insisted Walther. ‘Izvestia ran a series of articles on the life of your scientists in America. It was enough to curl my hair.’ Suddenly, he laughed. ‘Or it would have, if I had had more hair.’ Then his face became solemn. ‘No, young man, I am not worried for Max. He may have more wealth and luxury in your country. But he does not have the proper respect and honours. In Leningrad, he will-’

  ‘In East Berlin. He is coming to East Berlin,’ Krantz interrupted frantically.

  Walther glowered at Krantz. ‘Stop with that sham, Dr. Krantz. East Berlin-Leningrad-Moscow-it is all as one for the Germans, and you know it.’ Walther returned his attention to Craig. ‘You see, I am not interested in artifices. Max is a Nobel winner today. He will have his free dacha, his free laboratory, his student apprentices, his preferred treatment from the Presidium, his place and extra roubles in the Academy of Sciences. If I know Max, he will love it, the fussing, to be treated like a Czar. And the work-it will not tax him-some solar experiments if he wishes-if not, they will use him as an academic showcase in Berlin, to attract the young ones. I have no guilts, Mr. Craig. I am not sending my brother to a Devil’s Island or Alcatraz. It is a small price for the debt he owes me, to know I will be with my daughter again. And we can both be satisfied Max will be thriving, yes thriving.’

  It was during this, as he half listened, that the thought entered Craig’s mind: the pitiful old man is painting this pretty picture as a rationalization for taking part in the trade, as a necessity to shed the dreadful guilt of it.

  ‘If it is all as you describe,’ said Craig gently, ‘so wonderful for Max, tell me-why are you leaving at all?’

  This was impudent, but Walther appeared not to be sensitive to it. ‘For one thing, I am not Max,’ Walther said slowly. ‘He will be regarded as more useful, and treated accordingly. For another, I want to be with my daughter in a place where I can make riches and have the material things that Max has had. Surely, at my age, these desires are understandable.’

  ‘Certainly they are,’ said Craig. ‘Have you thought at all of what you will do in the United States?’

  Walther smiled winningly. ‘I have not had much time for planning, as you know. But sitting here, relaxing, before you came, waiting for the evening and my freedom, I began to consider what is ahead. I am sure Max will cede me his savings and home, in exchange for mine, so I will have a start.’ He rubbed his watery eyes. ‘Of course, I would not live in the city of Atlanta in your Georgia as Max does. I am more conscious of inequities than Max. I will not live among people who club Negroes and lynch and incite riots. I will take Emily to New York or Detroit. I will work for the capitalists so that Emily and I can be capitalists.’

  ‘What work do you intend to do?’ asked Craig.

  ‘I will work for peace-if the capitalists will let me.’

  ‘You will continue your bacterial experiments?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘But you’ve been doing just that in Leningrad.’

  Walther’s bleary eyes considered Craig as he might a precocious but errant student. ‘Young man, in Russia I did this work for peace-for nothing else-as a deterrent to war. That is one thing I trust. I must learn if, in America, there is the same good will.’

  ‘Perhaps you will resume your work in nuclear energy?’

  ‘A possibility, if I am assured it is for peace.’

  ‘You can depend that it is for peace.’

  Walther set down his empty glass. ‘You mean like Hiroshima and Nagasaki?’ Then, quickly, he smiled at the expression on Craig’s face. ‘No, do not take me seriously. Those annihilations were political moves, I understand that, to exert influence in the East before we could. No-do not misunderstand me-I know your American people are peaceful, want to live, to let live, to have good relations, like plain common people everywhere. I know they are the tools of reactionary monopolists. I have only meant I would not sell myself to the house of Morgan, to help provoke and incite a total war. You can be sure that Emily and I will work for the people.’

  During the last of that, a vagrant, teasing thought-which had entered Craig’s mind earlier and been turned away-now possessed him. It was something astonishing and unacceptable before. But these seconds, his perceptions vibrated and wondered, and the vagrant thought grew, taking shape and identity. Craig hated to face the fact of it, yet the thought excited him. It was a hypothesis only, true, and there was no absolute proof of it, but proof might be possible to obtain. Suddenly his resolve was to test it for proof. He must gamble before time ran out, and all was lost.

  ‘I am sure we can depend on you, sir,’ he said. His air was all guilelessness. He looked down at his watch. ‘I’m afraid I’ve overstayed. I’ve tired you-and I should be at the Nobel Ceremony.’

  ‘I am pleased you came,’ said Walther. ‘It was a good surprise, to find a friend.’

  Craig considered Walther. ‘Had you wondered, at all, why I came-why I forced Krantz to bring me here?’

  ‘To see Emily. To know she is well.’

  ‘One part of it. The main part is-I came to see you.’

  ‘I cannot imagine why.’

  ‘I had some notion that I might persuade you not to go through with this terrible exchange. I know what you’ve been through, what Max owes you, but somehow I thought I could make you realize that your role in Emily’s life ended long ago. Through adolescence and maturity, she has known only Max. In effect, he is her father and good to her. I thought I might make you see the trauma, for her, of replacing Max with yourself. Also, I thought you might be convinced of Max’s importance in the free world-I do not denigrate your own-but Max is proved, looked up to, on the brink of greater work, for all the people, for our government, not private enterprise-and I thought-’

  Walther’s
cheeks were ablaze. ‘You are an impertinent young man,’ he interrupted. He tried to control his voice, but it quaked with anger. All in his face that had seemed loose and flabby with age and drink now seemed to stretch and harden. ‘You are a meddling young man, and you have no feeling-’

  Craig did not recoil, but sat immovable in his place. ‘I apologize then,’ he said. ‘I had no wish to offend you or-’

  Walther’s flat palm slapped the table like a plank of wood, and the bottle jumped. ‘What does any pampered young ignoramus like you know of life over there and what we go through? What do you know of discipline and sacrifice and suffering-you, all of you, with your belly softness and head softness-dancing puppets for the propertied class, educated by schools that will only cater to the wealthy, and learning all you know from newspapers and periodicals controlled by the rich? What do you know-and who are you to tell me what is right and what is wrong-to tell me to sacrifice more and more for a brother who has grown fat and fat-headed, usurping my place with my own flesh and blood?’

  Krantz had rushed forward. ‘Please, Walther-please, please-Mr. Craig did not mean-’

  Craig pushed back the chair and came to his feet. ‘No, Krantz, he is quite right. I should not try to live other people’s lives and make their decisions. It is a disagreeable trait of authors. But I will make up for it now.’ He stared down at the angry Walther. ‘Yes, I will make up for it. There is no reason for you to go back-but there is no reason for Max to submit and go behind the Curtain either. I don’t intend to let Eckart pull off his filthy blackmail. There’ll be no exchange tonight. You’ll have your freedom, Walther, and Max will keep his. We’re all leaving this boat right now.’

  Krantz darted to the table. ‘It is impossible, Mr. Craig-why-’

  ‘Shut up Krantz!’ It was Walther. He addressed Craig with cool contempt. ‘I was mistaken. You are not merely a fool but a suicidal fool.’

  Craig contained himself. ‘It’s possible if one wants freedom enough as some Hungarians and some East Germans did,’ he said evenly.