Alex just looked at him.
“Right. Okay. Let me go tell the pilot. As soon as the krauts get the POM off, get them on board. Come on.”
They went down the stairs to the field. A truck next to the plane was being stacked with boxes of dried potatoes, the handlers moving quickly, speeded up, like people in silent films. Everything around them, in fact, seemed to be in motion, trucks pulling away, propellers whirring, planes lifting off at the end of the field. Not on tarmac, Alex noticed. Hitler’s showcase had never been paved, the runways just dirt though the grass, now covered with perforated steel plates, a temporary fix, like a pontoon bridge, to accommodate the traffic.
“My God. How low they are,” Erich said, pointing to a plane coming in over an apartment block, from this angle almost grazing the roof with its landing wheels. He turned to Alex. “Where are we going? West, yes, but where?”
“Frankfurt. Wiesbaden, probably.”
“Wiesbaden,” Irene said, a wry smile to herself. “For the waters.”
“Mm.” A kind of grunt, preoccupied, working something out.
“What’s wrong? You look—”
“Maybe nothing. Just thinking.”
“Thinking,” she said.
“It’s all so efficient, isn’t it?” he said, looking at the airfield.
“You about ready?” the dispatching soldier said. “The POM’s almost off. Pilot says you’re going to have some company. Layover crew being rotated back.” He looked at Alex. “They’ll make sure he gets to the hospital. Like you said.”
“And you’ll call. So the orders are there.”
“And I’ll call.” He turned to one of the ground crew. “Karl, get a ladder.” He nodded to Irene and smiled. “Better watch it in those shoes. Okay, that’s the last of the spuds. You first,” he said to Erich.
“How can I thank you?” Erich said to Alex.
“Just get well,” Alex said, hand on his shoulder.
“But to do all this—”
“It was an old debt. Better get on.”
He pointed to the ladder on the side of the fuselage. The rotating crew had arrived, throwing duffels up to the open hatch and climbing up after them.
“Wait,” Irene said, suddenly grabbing Erich. “I’ll say good-bye too. You’ll be fine now. They’ll take care of you.”
“You’re not coming?”
“Not yet.” She brushed the hair off his forehead. “I want to listen to you on the radio.”
“Let’s move it,” the soldier yelled.
“I’ll come later. Write me where you are.”
“Irene—” Alex said.
She hugged Erich and patted his shoulder. “Go, go,” she said, pushing him a little. “Listen to the doctors.” She looked up. “So tall. A man.”
He hesitated, confused.
“Don’t worry. I’ll come soon. Alex will arrange it. Hurry.”
She shooed him away then watched him climb the ladder and wave from the hatch.
“What are you doing?” Alex said.
“I’ve been thinking too. I’m going to stay.” She turned to him. “With you.”
“Don’t forget why we’re doing this.”
“I know. To protect me. But this way, we protect each other.”
“And when they find Markovsky?”
“Maybe they never do. And why should it be me? I’m the last one to do it. What am I now? Someone they can paw under the table. No one to say—”
“Irene.”
“Don’t you want me to stay?” She leaned forward, her mouth at his ear. “You didn’t love her. Not like me,” she said, her breath running through him. “It’s what you wanted.”
“You can’t.”
“And me. It’s what I want. Do you know when I knew? After the checkpoint, on the road, when I saw the car pass. I thought, what if he doesn’t stop? Just keeps going. What then? Go back to the guard, be what he thought? And Frankfurt, will that be any different? Passed from one to the next. And not so young anymore. So maybe not a Sasha. Just some—” She pulled her head back, looking at him. “You’re my last chance. I saw it. So clear. Maybe that’s why you came back. You didn’t know it. But maybe that’s why. Someone who still loves me. We can love each other.”
“Until there’s someone else.”
“You want to wrap up the good-byes over there?” the soldier shouted.
“That’s what you think?” she said. “That I want that life?” She looked up. “It’s a kind of love anyway, isn’t it? The kind we have.” She leaned forward again, at his ear. “I’ll make it be enough for you.” The old voice, the way she used to sound, just the two of them. My last chance.
He pulled back, suddenly light-headed, weightless. What Campbell wanted. Markus. Stay close. “You have to go,” he said.
“Oh, have to,” she said, a von Bernuth toss of the head. “It’s safe if we’re together.” She put her hand on his chest. “We’ll be together.” The only thing he’d ever wanted.
“Now or never,” the soldier yelled.
* * *
They headed straight west on Dudenstrasse, passing over S-Bahn tracks and the Anhalter station yards. The bridge’s walls were bomb damaged, patched with lumber rails, the street lined with ruined commercial buildings, another wasteland. For a while they were quiet, letting the air settle around them.
“We can still get you out,” he said finally. “Another plane.”
“To Frankfurt? And what’s my life there?” She lit a cigarette. “Anyway, it’s done.”
“They’ll still want to talk to you.”
“Like before. I know. But then it’s over. You’re important to them. You have privileges. Not just payoks. A certain respect. They don’t want to offend you.”
“That’s how it works?”
She glanced over at him. “Everywhere, I think.”
“And Erich’s interview?”
“I don’t know. What do we say about that? RIAS taking advantage of a sick boy. I wish he had come to see me first, ask me what to do. But he didn’t. And now he’s gone.”
Alex said nothing, then glanced at his watch. “The play should be over. Unless they’re still taking curtain calls.”
“You’re still worried? What’s wrong?”