Lanny got the point. ‘I suppose our Himmler-money friends would like nothing better than to have someone in your office’.
‘Exactly. I questioned her as closely as I dared; I didn’t want to let her know that I was suspicious of her. There’s no reason, you see, why Wendefurth should be different to me from any other village’.
‘How did she get out of our refugee camp’?
‘They’re not supposed to be let out unless they have a definite job; but of course there are ways of getting favours—she may have been sleeping with an officer. Of course I could trace that down and find out, but that’s not the point. It might be possible for us to send her back to her village; she could tell a tale of having been badly treated by the Americans’.
‘It would be pretty awkward if you hired a spy of the Völkischerbund’.
‘Not necessarily. There have been plenty of double agents and some of them have done good work; you just pay them more. What I have in mind is for you to meet this girl and see what you make of her. You can tell a plausible story about the Harz, you have read Heine’!
‘How shall I meet her’?
‘I don’t want to bring you together deliberately, because then she would be on her guard. But I can invite her to lunch or dinner and you can happen in by accident. Her being from the Harz is reason enough for you to start talking about it, and that will interest her. You can show pleasure in her company and take her to a night club or wherever you please’.
‘You know’, said the high-minded Lanny, ‘there’s a limit to how far I’ll go along that line’.
‘Of course, but you don’t have to tell her that. You can let her think you the most gallant gentleman she ever met, and the most fascinating; be deeply interested in her, and she will tell you about herself, and you can judge where truth leaves off and fiction begins’.
‘All right’, said the gallant gentleman, ‘lead me to her’.
‘I’ll take her to dinner this evening then’, said Monck. ‘You stroll into the Schultheiss café exactly at seven. You greet me as an old friend that you haven’t seen since the war. I’ll play up to that, and while we talk you can be taking a glance at Miss Anna Surden now and then, to let her know that you’re not indifferent to her good looks’.
VIII
So it came about that the son of Budd-Erling found himself in a popular restaurant on the Kurfürstendamm, seated across a small table from a German girl of lively temperament, a brunette with dark eyes and black hair, and lips and cheeks not too much painted according to the world’s standards but too much according to Lanny’s. She was slender—a rival would have called her emaciated. Her clothes revealed the sad fact that she was poor and had not been able to help it; but she was doing her best to make up for it by gaiety and by working those eager dark eyes. To Lanny Budd she was pathetic from the first moment—as indeed were all the children of defeated Germany, and especially those in the island of Berlin. Here were more living creatures clinging desperately to their lives, hoping against hope and dreaming impossibilities.
‘Wendefurth’, said the elegant American gentleman. ‘How interesting! I know the village well; I visited there. I was a friend of Kurt Meissner. Do you know him’?
He was prepared to hear her say that she knew him intimately, but no; she said, ‘I heard people talk about him, and I saw him on the street. He looked very sad, and I was sorry for him’.
Lanny asked her about herself and was prepared to have her tell him that she was the daughter of an Italian marquis in exile or something glamorous like that. But again no, she said that her father had been a humble storekeeper, and she had lived over the store. She had seen some of the Meissner children at school but couldn’t say that she really knew them because they were younger than she was and above her socially.
Lanny asked about her experiences in the war. She said her father had been drafted into the Volkssturm, the last defence line of the desperate Nazis. They had taken the very young, the very old, the cripples, the sick, everyone who was able to walk and carry a gun and had forced them into the line without any training. Anna’s father had been a victim of tuberculosis and had had no stomach for fighting. When he tried to retreat he had been shot by one of his officers. When the Reds had taken the village there had been an orgy of pillage and rape. The mother had fallen victim; Anna had managed to hide and keep hidden, almost starving to death. After the division of Berlin had been arranged by the Allies she had fled to the city, and in the American sector had been placed in a camp for refugees. There she had enough food to keep alive, but it was miserable with nothing to do, so she had been trying to get a job. How she had got permission to try she did not say, and Lanny did not ask.
When the meal was eaten Monck excused himself; he had some paper work to do at home, he said. ‘Mr Budd, will you take care of Miss Surden for me’? he asked genially, and the gallant Lanny replied that he would be delighted to do so. He added magnificently, ‘I’ll take care of the check’—and Monck gave way. It was most impressive.
IX
They sat for a while chatting. This rich American gentleman explained that he was an art expert and was travelling in war-torn Germany looking for bargains in old masters. He asked if Miss Surden knew of any that might be worth purchasing, and she said that unfortunately she had never had a chance to learn about such things; she had never even seen great paintings, only reproductions in magazines or school books. He said that the possessors of such paintings had as a rule hidden them away, and it took a detective to find them. He was deliberately giving the young person a chance to offer her services, but she did not, and that was a point in her favour.
Presently they left the restaurant and strolled on a pleasant spring evening along the Kurfürstendamm, a street once famous for its brilliantly illuminated night life and now dark and dim. But the night clubs had reopened and were doing a thriving business. Lanny suggested that they go into one, so they were soon seated at a table for two, with a buzz of conversation about them, and music and dancing on a low platform at the front. The show was sexy and crude, but they didn’t pay much attention to it, for this was a serious minded gentleman who was troubled about the state of the world.
Evidently he had a great deal of money and had always had it, but that didn’t comfort him. He said he had been out of sympathy with this terrible war. He thought that wiser statesmanship could have avoided it. He said it had unleashed forces of revolt that menaced the whole future of society. It had left a vacuum in the centre of Europe which the Reds planned to fill and they were wholly incompetent to do it, representing as they did a backward part of the human race.
Anna Surden listened attentively; that obviously was the duty of a poor girl who was being entertained by a rich gentleman and lavishly fed for the first time in years. The gentleman revealed that he had known Adolf Hitler well in past years and thought him a great man. To be sure Hitler was obstinate, but he could have been influenced if he had not been humiliated and angered. He had disciplined the German people and established a regime that could have lasted a thousand years, just as he had promised. Mr Budd was of the opinion that wise statesmanship could have arrived at an understanding with him. Prime Minister Chamberlain of Britain had had that purpose and had done his best. It was the headstrong American President who had rendered this impossible.
Mr Budd went on like this for quite a while, and then he asked, ‘What do you think, Miss Surden’? The girl said that those were the opinions she had heard from her mother and father and all the Germans she knew, but she was surprised to hear them from an American. Did many Americans feel like that?
Mr Budd said that a great many did, but not all were willing to express themselves; it would be to their disadvantage in a worldly way. But he was an independent man who could say what he thought, and he did. Once more he asked, ‘What do you think about it’?
The girl said that she had been only a child when the war started and all she knew was what people had told her. It had been
a dreadful thing; it had wrecked her home and wiped out her family, as it had done to millions of other Germans. The Nazis had forced her two older brothers into their Schutzstaffel, and both had been killed. Then they had taken her father and had shot him, so, of course, she had hated them. But evidently Mr Budd was a very well-informed gentleman and perhaps he might be right in his idea that they had been good for Germany.
Then they watched the dancing and listened to the singing for a while, and Mr Budd ordered some more food, in spite of protest. He began asking questions about the life of the refugees in the American sector of Berlin and the American zone of Germany. He explained why it was impossible to find work for them in a land where so much of the machinery had been wrecked and the raw materials used up. He was a well-informed gentleman and could explain many things to a poor girl from the country. He knew all about the political and governmental situation. He explained how Berlin was run by an Allied Control Council and how difficult it was for the four nations to agree upon anything. He said that the Russians had now settled down and were maintaining discipline in their Army. He doubted if the excesses of the invasion days would be repeated. He pointed out that such excesses had occurred in all wars and said that perhaps we had to make up our minds that this was to be the Russian century. He said he would much have preferred a German civilisation—perhaps it was because he knew the German language and barely knew the Russian alphabet.
He said all this with one of his genial smiles and went on to advise Miss Surden to study the Russian ideas and accustom her mind to the fact that the part of Germany in which she had been born was now to be under the Russian system. Russian culture would spread, and particularly their ideas about economic affairs, Maybe it would turn out for the best that the great estates would be socialised so that everybody would get the benefit of their production. Marx and Lenin had promised that when communism was victorious the state would wither away, and so perhaps there would be more freedom, and what the Soviets called democracy might turn out a good thing for the propertyless people, such as Miss Surden.
‘The world as it used to be was a very pleasant place for well-to-do persons like me’, said the genial Mr Budd. ‘But I had imagination enough to realise that it might seem quite different to the propertyless classes’.
This seemed somewhat different from what the rich American gentleman had been saying previously; but again the girl smiled politely and said it sounded reasonable and that she was grateful to Mr Budd for taking the trouble to explain these matters to one who was as ignorant as herself. She had heard these questions discussed continually in the refugee camp, where people were crowded together and had nothing to do but talk. Sometimes they argued and became bitter and split up into groups; they gossiped about one another and accused one another of holding forbidden opinions. She herself was confused in mind and was tempted to despair. She could see no way of escape, and what was to become of her? She was eager and willing to work; she knew she was ignorant but believed she had a good mind, and she would do anything to try to get a start. If only Mr Budd could suggest some way for her to get to America! Could he?
Mr Budd said it was very sad indeed, but he was asked that question by half the Germans he met, and he had nothing to tell them; he had no political influence, and no business in which he could offer them employment. He could only suggest that they have patience and trust in the future of Germany. The Americans fully intended to restore it, he believed, and so did all the Allies.
X
Presently it was late, and Mr Budd suggested that it was time to leave. He paid the bill, which was a terrifying figure, but he tactfully saw to it that Miss Surden was not made aware of the amount. As they went outside she clung tightly to his arm; and when they were out on the street—there they were!
Conveyances were scarce, and Lanny said, ‘Do you live far from here, Miss Surden?’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry’, she said, ‘I can’t take you there. I am staying in a room with half a dozen other girls, all crowded together’.
‘That’s too bad—’
‘Haven’t you got some place where you can take me’? she broke in. She was clinging even more tightly.
‘You misunderstand me, Miss Surden’, he said. ‘I was just offering to escort you to your place. I did not intend to go in’.
He felt her start of surprise. ‘Oh, Mr Budd, but what—you mean to leave me’?
‘That is what I mean’.
‘But you spent all that money on me!’
‘I spent it for a very pleasant evening, and I assure you you owe me nothing. I must tell you that I am a married man’.
He felt her shrink, but she still clung tightly. ‘Does that have to make so much difference?’
‘It does in my case’, he answered. ‘I know how some American men are behaving in Germany, but I am not one of them’.
He heard a faint sound of sobbing. ‘Oh, I’m so disappointed’! she exclaimed.
‘I am sorry indeed’, he said.
Suddenly she flung her arms about him. ‘Oh, Mr Budd, please don’t leave me! I could make you so happy! Give me a chance to show you. I would be loyal to you, I would never whisper a word about it to anyone. I’ve never met a man like you in all my life. I would make myself useful; I would work my fingers to the bone for you; I would do anything you wanted me to do’!
‘I am sorry, my dear’, he said gently. ‘I am not available as a lover, but perhaps I can help you as a friend. I have an idea of a possible job. So let us walk now, and I will see you safely to your room. The streets are dangerous for a woman at night’.
‘They are dangerous for everybody, even for an American’, she answered.
She released him, and they walked decorously side by side. ‘Tell me, Miss Surden, have you thought of asking Bernhardt Monck if he could find you a job’?
‘I did ask him, Mr Budd; that is how I came to be with him. He promised to see what he could do, but I doubt if he trusts me. You know how it is, there are so many bad kinds of people here in Berlin. How could I persuade him that I am honest’? She said that, and suddently he realised she was weeping as she walked. ‘Oh, you won’t think I’m honest’! she exclaimed. ‘You won’t have any use for me now’!
‘You are entirely mistaken, my dear’, he said, still more gently. ‘I have lived in this world much longer than you, more than twice as long, and have learned a lot about human nature. I perfectly understand the position of women in Germany today. Millions of potential husbands have been killed, and millions of potential jobs are gone too. Women, like all other living creatures, have to eat, and it is a dreadful thing to be hungry all the time. To be honest in my eyes is to want a chance to work’.
‘Oh, Mr Budd’, she cried, ‘if I could only have a job and earn my own money and have a room of my own I would be the happiest woman in the world’!
‘I don’t happen to know what Monck is doing’, he said. ‘But I know that he has some kind of position with A.M.G. I will speak to him about you, and I will tell him that I believe you are honest’.
XI
Lanny sat in at a conference of Bernhardt Monck and the large and genial Mr Andrew Morrison of the U.S. Treasury Department. Lanny made his report. ‘I really don’t feel sure about her; she may have been prompted to appear dumb on political topics, and if so, she is a good actress. I am sure she wasn’t acting when she wanted to spend the night with me; she thought she had got hold of a good thing’.
‘I thought we had a good opening’, Morrison said, ‘but I’m afraid we can’t use her’.
‘Tell me just what you’re afraid of’, Lanny said. ‘Surely the Himmler-money people must know we’re after them. When Guzman doesn’t show up they will guess what happened to him; and you tell me you got two other pushers previously. Suppose this girl has been sent by them, or suppose she sells you out—she doesn’t know anything but what you tell her’.
‘But will we be able to rely on anything she tells us’?
‘We can’t
rely completely on what anybody tells us’, put in Monck. ‘We have to judge by the circumstances. The thing to do would be to pay her enough to keep her going and offer her the big prize if she really delivers the goods’.
Lanny wanted to know, ‘Even suppose she could locate the plates, would you be able to get them out?’
‘Don’t worry about that’, declared Morrison. ‘If she drops us a code note by mail we’ll get a man there and get the plates’.
‘Supposing she locates the money, would you be able to get transportation for it, and could you get it past the border’?
‘We don’t want it’, answered the Treasury man. ‘All our man would have to do would be to get it carted into the forest, build a good brush fire, and set it on top’.
‘You fellows know more about all this than I do’, said Lanny. ‘How are you going to get this girl into the Soviet zone? Are we forging passports’?
‘No’, replied Morrison, ‘she would have to go to their military for an entry permit. They are getting tougher all the time, but I think she has a story that might convince them. She is a native of the place, and she has a notion that members of her family are still alive—her mother, her father, her brothers, anybody. She has been a refugee in one of our camps, and she has been badly treated and regrets having fled. We can teach her a few Red phrases, and she’s a comrade, or wants to be; she’d be a good propaganda for them, and I think she’d get by’.
‘All right’, said Lanny, ‘why not try first things first? Tell her you have a job for her in Wendefurth provided that she can get in. Give her a little money and let her go and apply for a permit. If she gets it, then you can tell her what the job is, and if she’s afraid of it, or if you decide she doesn’t sound right, you can call it off and there’s no harm done’.
‘What do you say, Monck’? demanded Morrison.
‘The girl is bright, she’s attractive, and evidently she’s a fast worker with the men. It might be that she would connect up with one of those Bund fellows and get us some worth-while information in a week or two. I’d say, give her money to live on, and give her a code so that she can write to us. Promise her a few hundred dollars if she is able to get the money, and twice as much if she can locate the plates for us; and throw in a ticket to South America’.
The Return of Lanny Budd Page 24