Alex looked at him. “I thought I was just collecting a little gossip.”
“The Russians don’t see it that way. It’s Dodge City here. You want to watch your back. Everywhere. The sectors don’t mean anything. They think it’s all theirs. People disappear—broad daylight, they just grab them—and we complain and they say they don’t know what we’re talking about. People get killed too. It’s a dangerous place for amateurs. I didn’t ask for this, you know? Civilian, first time out. But Campbell said you’d be okay. Said you were motivated.” Holding onto the word.
“That’s one way of putting it. If you’re a shit like Campbell.”
Willy leaned back, surprised, then smiled. “Yeah. Well. It’s a shitty business.”
Alex looked over. “What else? You didn’t get me out my first morning to tell me to keep my ears open. Something came up, you said.”
Willy stared back for a second. “Good. You listen. That’s something you can’t—”
“What came up?”
“Pay dirt. For you. You’ve been promoted.”
“To what?”
“You’re a protected source now. Not just an information source.”
“Protected.”
“It means nobody at BOB knows about you.”
“Except you.”
“Except me. So there’s less risk if there’s a leak. BOB knows I’ve got a protected source in the East, but not who.”
“Why?”
“Remember you asked us to run a trace on some friends of yours?”
“And nothing came up.”
“That’s because they got married. New names. Then one of them popped up in a CROWCASS file, with a cross-ref to the maiden name. Elsbeth von Bernuth. Now Frau Mutter. Frau Doctor Mutter.”
“Why was she in a CROWCASS file?”
“He was. Doctor in the Wehrmacht. That automatically gets you a file.”
“What’s he supposed to have done?”
“Nothing. For the Wehrmacht. Just patch up the troops, what you’d expect. Before the Wehrmacht’s a little different. He was knocking off people in mental homes. The euthanasia program, to keep the Aryan bloodlines pure. No more cripples or idiots. Just the ones in brown shirts.”
“He was tried for this?”
“No. If we put every Nazi doctor on trial— Eugenics was a big deal here. Lots of doctors signed on. Not nice, bumping people off, but all legal. Anyway, that was before. CROWCASS was only interested in war crimes and there they came up empty.”
“She’s alive?”
Willy nodded. “Both. In the British sector. Practicing.”
“And you want me to contact her?”
“That’s up to you. Campbell said you were kissing cousins.”
“My aunt married her uncle,” Alex said, distracted. How had he done it? Injections? A pill before bedtime? Gas? Purifying the race. Had Elsbeth known? Or just waited at home, pretending not to. In exile you imagine people as you left them, not what they become. What had it been like here, day to day?
Willy was watching him.
“Why is this pay dirt?”
“This one isn’t. But then I got the bright idea maybe the other one married too.”
Alex looked up. “Irene?”
“Now Frau—”
“Engel,” Alex said flatly.
“No, Gerhardt. Frau Engelbert Gerhardt. Enka to his friends. Funny thing is, he was supposed to be a little light in the loafers. Makeup artist, for chrissake.”
“What?”
“Out at Ufa. Pictures.”
“So why—?”
“Keep him out of trouble probably. They were putting them in camps. So, a happily married man. Goebbels didn’t care as long as things looked okay. And he could screw the actresses.” He raised his head. “Who’s Engel?”
“An old boyfriend,” he said, seeing her cradling his head.
Willy was peering at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. She’s alive?”
“And kicking. So we thought you’d like to see her.”
Alex looked at him.
“Be friends again. Closer than ever.”
A small jump in his stomach, wary. “Why?”
“It would be the most natural thing in the world. You were practically family.” Willy took out a cigarette.
“Practically,” Alex said, waiting.
“She’d want you to meet her new friends too, don’t you think?”
“Just tell me.”
Willy leaned forward, lighting the cigarette. “Gerhardt didn’t make it. Bombing raid. Which left her a widow. Technically, anyway.”
“And?”
“So now there’s a new friend. Not that anybody would blame her for that. Not easy, a woman on her own in Berlin.” He paused, taking a drag on the cigarette. “But a break for us.”
“Why?”
“Alexander Markovsky. Not so bad. A wife back in Moscow, but that doesn’t count for much. They all do, don’t they? Anyway, very fond of your cousin. How she feels about him I don’t know. You tell me. Let’s hope she’s crazy about him. We wouldn’t want her to walk out on him, now that you’re in the picture.” A faint smile. “That’s why I wanted to see you first, give you a heads-up. Forget Dymshits. You’ve got a real job.”
Alex followed the trail of Willy’s smoke, not breathing, then looked back.
“You want me to spy on her,” he said, forcing the word out. “Nobody said anything about this. I’m not—” His voice trailed off, as if it were walking away.
Willy took a breath. “That’s not the way this works. You don’t get to pick.”
“She’s—a friend.”
“We’re not interested in her. We’re interested in him,” Willy said, explaining to a child. “He works for Maltsev. Major General Maltsev. State Security. That’s about as inside Karlshorst as we’re likely to get. We’ve never had a chance like this, somebody close to Maltsev. You want a ticket back, this is it.”
A tightening around his chest, short of air.
“When did Campbell know about this?”
“I don’t know,” Willy said, surprised at the question. “You’d have to ask him.”
“But he’s not here.”
Willy looked at him. “Does it matter?”