The guard looked back, surprised to see Alex still there, and waved him through again. “Go, go. Next.”
They passed Irene, not slowing until they were two streets away, dark to the checkpoint, then waited with the motor running, the roofless shell of the Anhalter off to their right.
“As good as Weigel,” Alex said when she got in.
“It’s what he thought,” she said, then looked out the window as they started again. “What they think we all are.”
They were heading straight for Hallesches Tor, no traffic, making up time.
“So, nothing,” Irene said. “Nobody’s following.”
“See how Erich’s doing. He’s been half asleep. You need to get him to the hospital when you get there.”
“An Ami hospital.”
“That was the deal.”
“The deal. Who made this deal?”
Alex looked at her. “Ferber.”
“Oh, Ferber. At the play.” She looked at her watch. “Swiss Cheese must be gone by now. Only Kattrin left. Do you think anyone sees we’re gone?” Then, thinking, “And what happens, when they ask you? About me?”
“I took you home. After that—”
“Yes, after that. Then they watch you.”
She said nothing for a minute, looking out as they crossed the canal and headed up the Mehringdamm.
“You say you’re coming after, but you can’t, can you?”
“We’ll see.”
“It’s like going to America. You can’t do it. You’re a traitor there.”
“Not that bad,” he said, trying to be light. “Uncooperative witness, that’s all.” He paused. “Times change. It won’t always be like this.”
She looked up toward Viktoriapark. “But you had to leave. That’s why she divorced you?”
“Lots of reasons.”
“You didn’t love her.”
“Do you really want to talk about this? Now?”
“When else? I’m almost gone,” she said. “Listen.” Outside, the roar of planes, coming in low a few streets ahead.
“You didn’t love her. Not like me.”
He turned to her. “What’s this about?”
“Nothing, I guess,” she said, looking down. “I just wanted to hear it. Something pleasant to think about in my new life.” She raised her head, facing the windshield. “And what will that be, I wonder. No Sashas anymore. All—what? Joes.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.”
She looked away. “But it will.”
A kind of grunt from the back, Erich awake again. “They’re so low. We must be close.”
“We’re here.”
He pulled into the broad circular road that fronted Tempelhof, then the inner driveway that led to the building itself. Where taxis used to pull up, dropping passengers, now busy with jeeps and staff cars, the trucks out back on the runways, loading, leaving in fleets on the service roads. He had expected the airport to be bristling with guards, but there weren’t any at the doors—maybe all out on the field, where the goods were. The main building, with its square marble columns, was oddly empty, a passenger terminal without passengers, its soaring space echoing with the sounds of planes landing.
They hurried across the waiting hall to the departure gates. Through the windows he could see the floodlights on the field, shining on the runways. Planes pulled up in rows at the gates, assembly-line style, workers swarming over them like ants even before they stopped. German civilians, throwing sacks of coal down chutes from the planes, then lifting them onto trucks. A mobile canteen was making the rounds of the landing area, offering coffee and doughnuts to the pilots, quick snacks for the return trip. Mother Courage in a truck, Alex thought, selling her capon. Had anyone looked for them at intermission? Wind from the propellers was blowing dust across the field. Everybody busy. He had to ask two cargo workers before he was directed to a soldier with a clipboard.
“You the dispatcher?”
“The what?” Cupping his ear.
“With the manifests. What’s going out.”
“Going out?” he said, a wise guy smirk. “It’s supposed to be coming in.”
“You should have two passengers on there,” Alex said, nodding to the clipboard.
The soldier glanced at Erich, then Irene, still in her theater clothes, giving her the once-over.
“Passengers,” he repeated, as if trying to get the joke. “You think this is Pan Am?”
“Orders came from Howley. Direct.”
“Not to me.”
“Then get on the phone.”
The soldier looked up, ready to argue, then stopped, thrown by Alex’s voice.
“Now,” Alex said.
The soldier waited another second, then crossed over to a phone.
“You better be right. Get my ass in a sling calling—”
“You don’t and you’ve got trouble you can’t even imagine.”
“Who the fuck are you anyway?”
“They there?” Alex said. “Tell them Don Campbell. BOB. Two passengers. Howley already okayed it.”
“B-O—?”
“B, as in Bob.”
“Very funny. What’s—?”
“Just say it. They’ll know.”
The soldier listened to the phone for a minute and hung up.
“Okay?” Alex said.
“Sorry. I didn’t know who you were.”
“What did they say?”
“Said give him whatever he wants.”
“Okay, then one more thing. In case somebody else fucked up. Make sure somebody meets the plane and takes him to the hospital. Ours. Military. Get him taken care of, whatever the doc says. Anybody asks, use my name again. And if he has a problem with that, tell him I’ll have General Clay call. But that won’t be pleasant. She goes with him to the hospital to make sure everything’s okay, then find her a billet. Decent. For a lady. You need a name for that,” he said, nodding to the manifest, “it’s von Bernuth. V as in VIP. Understood?”
“Listen, I didn’t mean—”
“Just make the call. Now how about a plane?”
The soldier led them back to the gate.
“C-54 down there, as soon as it’s unloaded. Nothing much going back, so they can even bunk down.” He looked at Erich. “It gets cold that altitude. I’ll get some packing quilts put in for them.”
“Thank you.”
“Sorry about— What is BOB anyway? Something secret?”