Lisbon Crossing, The

by Tom Gabbay

  Alberto fired up the engine and we pulled away. It was late afternoon and the sun had dropped a few degrees, taking the heat out of the day. Lili would be wondering where the hell I was.

  I found her on the tennis court at the back of the hotel, serving up a junior diplomat from the U.S. Mission. His name was Richard Everett Allan Brewster III, which pretty much said it all. After Groton and the Yale debating society, he’d followed Brewster I and Brewster II into the State Department. At twenty-six, he was on top of the world, a real Brylcreem Boy with a mouthful of perfect white teeth and a great jawline, a guy who was going places and knew it. Lili was in the process of taking him apart.

  “I was starting to think that you’d run off with somebody else’s wife,” she said when she spotted me.

  “Just seeing the sights,” I said, and sat down on a bench facing the court. Lili stared down her opponent then wound up and sent her service wide. She looked at me like it was my fault.

  “Didn’t mean to break your concentration,” I deadpanned. She grunted and turned her attention back to the boy wonder, blowing her second serve by him with ease. I enjoyed watching Lili embarrass him for a while, then it got monotonous. The light was fading and I needed a drink when she finally aced him for game, set, and match.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Brewster puffed as he sauntered over to check me out.

  “You put up a good fight,” I lied.

  “Don’t get much time for tennis, I’m afraid.” He flashed his dental work and offered up his hand. “Richard Brewster, assistant deputy to the ambassador. Call me Dick.”

  “Jack Teller,” I responded.

  “Yes, Lili was telling me about you…”

  “I didn’t say anything nice!” she interjected as she pulled a sweater on over her whites and walked across court to join us.

  “Shall we have a drink?” Brewster suggested.

  “I’d love to, darling,” she said, lacing it with irony. “But I have a dinner engagement.” She shot me a withering look. “With a police captain.”

  “Word travels fast,” I said, trying a smile.

  “He sent two dozen roses to my room.”

  Worse things could happen, I thought, but Lili didn’t seem to think so, so I didn’t push it.

  “Thank you for the match, Mr. Brewster,” she said, propelling her hand forward. “Perhaps I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself before I leave Lisbon.”

  “I’ll work on my game,” he answered lamely.

  Lili offered him a strained smile, suggested that I not be late for dinner, then made a quick exit along the lush garden path that led back to the hotel. I was in the doghouse, but she’d get over it.

  “Is she always like that?” Brewster asked, zipping a light cotton jacket against the cool evening air that was moving in off the sea.

  “Like what?”

  “A ballbreaker.”

  “She’s a star,” I explained.

  He gave me a patronizing look and started along the path, expecting me to follow. “Well, whatever she is, she certainly has pull. The secretary himself cabled instructions. We’re to provide any and all assistance.”

  “Glad to see my tax dollars at work,” I said, making him wait while I took my time firing up a Lucky. He got his own pack out of a jacket pocket and I lit him up, too.

  “Was Catela any help?”

  “He said he’d have a look around.”

  “I wouldn’t count on him if I was you.”

  “I never count on anyone,” I said, and he nodded, like he was concurring, but I didn’t think he was listening. I started up the path again, letting him trail behind this time.

  “What do you know about this girl she’s looking for?” he asked. “This Eva Lange?”

  “Not a lot.”

  “Are you sure she’s in Lisbon?”

  ““I’m not sure of anything,” I said. “Eddie Grimes thought she was, though.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “Grimes?”

  “Right. Grimes.”

  “Just by reputation.”

  “Which was?”

  “Hollywood’s favorite dick.”

  Brewster nodded again, as if I’d just said something important. “I was supposed to notify the next of kin,” he said. “But I couldn’t find any.”

  “Then I guess no one’ll miss him.”

  Brewster stopped at the end of the path, had a look around, and spotted a black coupe parked up the drive at the side of the hotel. The driver spotted him, too, and started the engine.

  “Well,” he said, signaling the car to swing around and pick him up. “Give me a couple of days. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “Actually,” I said slowly, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Mention it to anyone.”

  “Jack,” he said, sighing. “I know how to be discreet. It’s in the job description.”

  “No, I mean, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do anything about it or discuss it with anyone.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he said, getting edgy.

  “I’d rather you just left it alone,” I said. Lisbon didn’t strike me as the kind of place where a junior diplomat with a nice smile would open doors.

  Brewster looked me up and down, then put on a crooked smile that was supposed to let me know that he wasn’t too impressed. “Look,” he said stonily. “I’m sorry to be blunt, but the secretary of state explicitly directed me—”

  “I don’t give a monkey’s tit what the secretary of state directed you.”

  “Hold on, Teller. Just who in hell do you think you are?”

  “The guy who holds your career in his hands, Dick. That’s who I am.”

  It stopped him cold.

  “You wanna explain that?”

  “Sure,” I said, and paused long enough to make him uncomfortable. “You don’t think the secretary of state really gives a damn what happens with Lili Sterne and her childhood friend, do you? Of course he doesn’t. So why would he make such a fuss about it?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Don’t you read the gossip columns? You really should, you know. A guy in your position needs to know these things.”

  He was all ears by this point. “Know what things?”

  “You really don’t know?” I chuckled, just to rub it in a little more.

  “Look, Teller, I’m—”

  “Come on, Dick, think about it. Why would the secretary of state care about Lili Sterne?”

  Nothing.

  “Who does he answer to?”

  It started to dawn on him.

  “The—”

  “That’s right. The guy whose picture hangs in your office.”

  “I’ll be damned…” He was impressed. “Are they—?”

  I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Well, all the more reason—”

  “All the more reason to do nothing,” I said.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he said, frowning. I was gonna have to spell it out for him.

  “The only thing you care about is getting a good report card, right?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it…”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t put it like that, but that’s the way it is,” I said. “So while I appreciate your offer, the kind of help I need right now is for you to forget the whole thing. If I need something from you—and there’s a good chance that I will at some point—I’ll let you know. And if you’re happy with that arrangement, I promise that you’ll get an A-plus on that report card. You happy with that?”

  Brewster narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. I waited while he figured out where his interests lay, and it wasn’t long before he was smiling again. He produced an engraved business card from his billfold, turned it over, and scribbled something on the back. “My home number,” he said, handing it over. “Anytime.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

&n
bsp; The car pulled up and Brewster flashed his teeth one last time. “You know,” he said as he slipped into the backseat, “she looks a lot older in person.”

  I decided to let him have the last word.

  There was just enough time before dinner for a wash and a shave before donning my dinner jacket and heading downstairs. I considered stopping at the bar for a quick one, but I skipped it and went straight to the dining room. I needed a few minutes alone with Catela before Lili arrived.

  Chances were pretty good that Eva Lange was dead. The old man at the Imperial might not have been the most reliable witness on the planet, but I had little doubt that she was the one who’d been to see Grimes on the night he drove off a cliff. The rest wasn’t hard to guess. Grimes had probably been in touch with her, maybe arranged a meeting at his hotel using Lili’s letter as bait. When Eva showed up at an awkward moment, accidentally walking in on whatever perversions he was up to with his two-dollar hooker, she did a runner and Grimes went after her. He got her into his car, maybe against her will, and one way or another they took a nosedive into the Mouth of Hell.

  It was the most plausible scenario, all right, but I couldn’t be sure unless I got Eddie’s car pulled off the rocks. Catela had dismissed that idea, but he seemed like the kind of guy you could do business with. I’d go with the tried and true—hard cash—and see where that got me. I was pretty sure Lili would shell out without asking questions, but if she did ask, I’d just say that I thought there might be something in the car that would tell us what Grimes knew about Eva. There was no reason to talk about my suspicions, not yet.

  The dining room at the Palacio was every bit as formidable as the rest of the place—white marble floor, towering crystal chandelier, thirty-foot arched windows and straitjacketed waiters who didn’t talk much but who knew how to bow and scrape. I was led to a table in the back where I found Catela in the company of a uniformed German officer. My first Nazi.

  Catela smiled when he saw me, the German didn’t. In fact, he looked a bit queasy, like he’d been drinking sour milk.

  “Ah, Senhor Teller,” the captain welcomed me. “Please sit down. Allow me to present Major Ritter.”

  “Hello,” I said, noticing the distinctive SS insignia on his lapel. Ritter offered a slight nod in response, making it clear that he didn’t welcome the intrusion.

  “Major Ritter has arrived recently in Lisbon, as well,” Catela explained.

  “On holiday?” I said, digging out my smokes.

  Ritter allowed for a half smile. “Take one of mine,” he said, offering a polished silver cigarette case. “French.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I don’t like the smell.”

  “As you wish.” Ritter shrugged and offered one to Catela, who accepted, providing the major a light in return.

  “Major Ritter has been in Paris,” Catela said as Ritter smirked.

  “Hanging swastikas?” I asked, but Ritter already knew the speech he wanted to make.

  “I was fortunate enough to accompany the Führer on his tour of the city,” he said, puffing his chest out. Major Ritter wasn’t a particularly imposing man. He was probably in his late forties, of average height and average build, with unremarkable features on an unremarkable face. The uniform was his only distinguishing characteristic.

  “Quite an honor,” I said, and he nodded his head for a long, significant moment.

  “When I have witnessed our Führer standing before the tomb of Napoléon…” He paused to look up at me and I thought he might start crying. “It was a moment full of poignancy. Full of significance. Full of…history.” He smiled to himself and rolled his French cigarette in the ashtray.

  “What next?” I said, and Catela shifted uneasily in his seat. Ritter smiled broadly and reached across the table to fill my glass from a bottle of very old cognac he was hoarding. I didn’t say no.

  “An excellent question, Mr. Teller,” he said, filling Catela’s glass, too. “The Wehrmacht has done in three weeks what Hindenburg and Ludendorff could not do in four years. Those days of the trenches are happily over and you have now witnessed the birth of modern warfare. So your question is exactly right. What next? I believe there are no limits.” He raised his glass. “Heil Hitler.”

  I raised mine. “Being from a neutral country, maybe I should add Churchill to that.” Ritter paused with his glass halfway to his lips.

  “Churchill is a fool,” he said.

  I shrugged. “To conquerors and fools, then.”

  I knocked the drink back and it burned sweetly. Ritter laughed heartily and threw his back, too. Catela took a gentlemanly sip, looked at his watch, and nervously surveyed the room.

  “Don’t take it personally,” I said. “She’s always late. It’s compulsory star behavior.”

  “I am happy to wait all night,” he said with undisguised enthusiasm.

  “Good, because that’s not out of the question,” I replied.

  “What brings the great Lili Sterne to Lisbon?” Ritter asked bluntly.

  “Sightseeing,” I said, and he laughed.

  “There are many people doing many things in Lisbon at this time,” he said. “Sightseeing is not one of them.”

  “She’s a big history buff, and it seems that Lisbon has quite a history,” I said. “Did you know that Portugal is the oldest nation-state in Europe?”

  “No, I wasn’t aware of it.” Ritter yawned.

  “Sure. It was founded in 1139. Three hundred and fifty years before Spain.”

  “Fascinating,” he said, settling back into grimness.

  “But it goes back a lot further than that,” I went on. “Legend has it that Ulysses himself founded the city, although there’s no evidence of that. It was probably the Phoenicians, I forget what century, but they were tossed out by the Greeks, which gives you an idea. The Carthaginians got rid of them and stayed until 200 B.C. when the Romans took over. They were here for a couple of centuries, until the Moors came up from Morocco. They held the city for a while until the Christians laid siege for four hundred years until finally…I hope I’m not boring you, Colonel. I just thought with your interest in history…”

  “Major,” he corrected me. “And I’m sure Lisbon has a fascinating history, but I must leave you now.”

  He stood up and Catela sprang to his feet, too. It had nothing to do with Ritter, though. He’d spotted Lili gliding toward the table, in full flow. She was stunning in slinky sequins and I found myself standing up, as well, as though royalty was approaching. Everyone in the room was trying hard not to look starstruck, without much success. Lili left a trail of whispers in her wake. Even Ritter looked impressed. I noticed a slight break in her concentration when she spotted him, but no one else did.

  “I’ve kept you waiting…” She offered her hand to Catela, who promptly smothered it with his lips.

  “A pleasure,” was all he could bring himself to say.

  “Thank you for sending the flowers, Captain. It was very thoughtful of you.”

  Catela could only nod his head up and down. I think he was literally struck dumb. Lili turned to Major Ritter and gave him a dubious look.

  “Allow me to present—” Catela began, but Ritter stepped forward and took her hand without it being offered.

  “Guten Abend, Fräulein. Sturmbannführer Heinrich Ritter.” Lili pulled her hand away and he performed a well-executed bow instead. “Ich hatte das Vergnuegen, eine Vorfuehrung von Ihnen 1922 in Berlin zu sehen. Eine schoene Erinnerung.”

  “Berlin was a long time ago,” she said. “The world has changed.”

  “Zum Besseren. Wuerden Sie dem nicht zustimmen?”

  “I’m sorry, Major,” Lili said, ice-cold. “I’ve forgotten my German, and it’s rude to speak it when no one else understands what is being said.”

  The major sniffed and turned noticeably red, as if she’d slapped him in the face. He finally smiled awkwardly and tried to answer in a jocular tone.

  “Vielleicht waere es eine gute Idee, wenn di
e anderen es lernen wuerden—Und fuer Sie, sich zu erinnern.”

  I pretended not to understand, but, of course, I did.

  CHAPTER 4

  I never told Lili that I was born in Berlin. I’m not sure why—you’d think that growing up within a few miles of each other would be worth mentioning, but I guess I didn’t have anything to say about it. My childhood was remote, unfamiliar, as if it was a collection of borrowed memories—fleeting images of my mother before she got ill, my brother’s face at the window on the day I left. But they were just snapshots. They didn’t move and they didn’t speak to me. I didn’t feel any more German than I did Chinese.

  It hadn’t been a conscious effort. I think when I hit New York, I was trying so hard to be just another kid from the neighborhood—taking on a new name, a new look, a new way of talking—that in the process I wiped out my past, without really meaning to. Or maybe it wasn’t as profound as that. Maybe I was just so busy surviving that I lost track. I suppose if you don’t visit a memory from time to time, it eventually dies of neglect. Or gets buried so deep that it might as well be dead. At any rate, I didn’t delve into my childhood, and this wasn’t the place to start, so I pretended not to understand that the major had said, “Perhaps it would be wise of them to learn—and for you to remember.”

  As soon as Ritter took his leave, Catela started snapping his fingers at every waiter in the room, spouting off a series of commands in rapid-fire Portuguese. Each waiter nodded dutifully, bowed, and backed away from the table, scurrying off to do whatever it was he’d been charged with. Copious plates of food and bottles of wine and champagne started arriving shortly thereafter, allowing Catela to turn his attention to Lili.

  He started with a rehearsed speech:

  “May I say what an honor it is to be sitting here, with you, at this table?” He raised his glass. “You are even more beautiful than I could have thought possible.”