Читать книгу World War 2 Thriller Collection: Winter, The Eagle Has Flown, South by Java Head - Jack Higgins, Justin Richards - Страница 33

‘Explain?’ said Glenn Rensselaer. ‘I can’t explain it any better than I have there in the written report.’ The bald-headed young American behind the desk looked at him blankly. Glenn Rensselaer went on: ‘I guess you mean describe it in terms of its U.S. equivalents. Well, I can’t do that, either. These Freikorps groups are just bands of armed men in makeshift uniforms. Usually their commanders are captains or majors, sometimes a colonel, and, rarely, a sergeant. They take their orders from whoever pays them, and sometimes they don’t even obey their paymasters. Some of the officers behave like gangsters; some of the rankers are professional criminals. But some of these men are patriots and idealists. It’s impossible to generalize about the Freikorps except to say – thank God – there is nothing in the U.S. that I can compare them to.’

The man behind the desk still said nothing. Glenn Rensselaer looked round the gloomy little upstairs room on Washington’s K Street. Ancient floral wallpaper, an old desk, some dented filing cabinets, a worn carpet, and in the corner a large brass spitoon, brightly polished. So this was the U.S. State Department’s idea of a suitable office for its ‘research and intelligence subsection’. Was it secrecy, parsimony, or neglect?

‘On the other hand,’ said Glenn Rensselaer, more to break the silence than because he felt the man behind the desk was interested, ‘for a lot of people Germany right now is where everything is happening. The movies, legitimate theatre, the opera, popular music, light opera, orchestral music, science – from atomic physics to psychology – architecture, industrial design, painting … every damn thing.’ He stubbed out his cigarette and added, ‘Is all this boring you? I have the feeling that there are other things you’d rather be doing.’

‘Not at all,’ said the bald young official. ‘I find everything you tell me fascinating. But I’m likely to be the only person in the whole State Department who will read your report all through.’

‘Is that so?’

‘The U.S. has lost interest in Europe, except to count how many battleships the British are building under the terms of the new treaty.’

‘You’re talking in riddles.’

‘Forgive me: I don’t mean to. What I should have said is that right now no one wants to talk about anything but Japanese naval strength. You must be familiar with the terms of the 1922 conference – a ratio of five British capital ships and three Japanese capital ships for five of ours. You don’t have to be a mathematician to see that under the terms of that treaty the combined naval strength of the Japs and the Brits would gun us off both oceans.’

‘You don’t have to be a mathematician,’ agreed Glenn Rensselaer. ‘You just have to be nuts.’

Again came the inscrutable look. No reply. Perhaps Glenn should not have come here wearing his old jacket and flannels with his brightly patterned bow tie and knitted pullover. The man behind the desk was in a tight-fitting suit with a stiff collar. Glen had forgotten what it was like in Washington, D.C.

Glenn persisted. ‘You’re not seriously suggesting that we’re likely to get into a fight against the British, are you?’

‘It’s our job to take into account even the most unlikely eventuality, Mr Rensselaer.’

‘You guys are out of your minds. If we tangled with the Japs, the British would be alongside us.’ He got to his feet and the man got up, too.

‘I’m sure you’re right, Mr Rensselaer,’ said the man in a voice that betrayed nothing of his thoughts. ‘Anyway, it was good of you to come. We don’t get much first-hand news these days.’

Glenn Rensselaer was glad to get back to his parents’ house in New York. It was home to him, for his travels abroad made it convenient and convivial for his wife to share his father’s large mansion. She got along well with Cy Rensselaer’s second wife, Dot, and now that Dot’s three sons had grown up and left home, she was company for the older woman.

When he returned from his trip to Washington, his father asked him about it, but Glenn was unforthcoming. Had he explained his reception at the bureaucrats’ ‘secret’ office, his father would probably have taken exception to the description. The Republican Party firmly controlled House and Senate. Calvin Coolidge was in the White House. The old man preferred to believe that the men in Washington knew what they were doing. It was a point of view difficult to sustain after a trip to the capital, which was perhaps why his father never went there.

So Glenn talked to his father about Germany. ‘Since the war you see on the streets this large rootless proletariat,’ Glenn told his father. ‘Mostly from the East: Poles, Czechs, Russians, Hungarians, Rumanians, gypsies, dispossessed smallholders and peasants, factory workers, and God knows who. In order to blame these badly dressed, incoherent outsiders for every misfortune from petty crime to factory closures and job losses, a name was required. So the Germans have decided to call them “Jews”.’

‘Don’t make jokes about Jews, son. I can’t abide it, never could.’

‘I’m not joking. Anti-Semitism is everywhere; you smell it in the air.’

‘That’s not just in Europe, Glenn.’

‘No, but in France and England and here in the U.S. anti-Semitism is a form of envy. It’s mostly directed at the rich, clever and successful. The anti-Semite depicts the Jew as a man with a diamond tie pin, in a big automobile, smoking a cigar, and coming to collect the profits from his factory. In Germany they have that anti-Semitic envy, too. And it’s especially strong there because the Jew plays a vital part in the cultural life of Germany. The movies, the theatre, publishing and the art world are conspicuously dominated by Jews. But there’s this other sort of anti-Semitism, too.’

‘Does it really matter?’

His father felt uncomfortable, but Glenn continued: ‘It’s a downward-looking anti-Semitism. I’m talking about the fear of any strange-looking, penniless itinerant. Now, add that to the envy and you’ve got an explosive mixture. That’s why Germany is unique. This double anti-Semitism comes from Germany’s geographical position; that’s why it’s different from anything you find in other countries. And let me tell you that there are a hell of a lot of German politicians who know exactly how to stir up that mixture.’

‘Is it the Nazis you’re talking about? Only last week there were pictures in one of the weeklies.’

‘There are others, but the Nazis are the most dedicated and the most dangerous. This fellow Hitler has renewed strength since being in prison. Politically it’s the best thing that could have happened to him. He’s a sort of romantic, and he understands that blend of sentimentality and cruelty that is uniquely German. He knows how to appeal to a lot of different Bavarian malcontents. Want to restore the monarchy? Hitler’s your man. Feel the nice Bavarian Catholics are ill-treated by nasty Prussian Protestants? Hitler. Want to hear that the bureaucrats in Berlin are the cause of Bavaria’s troubles? Want to hear that the General Staff – Protestant every one – lost the war? Lost your job? A Jew took it from you. Your factory went out of business? A Jewish boss did it and made a profit on the deal. Socialists organizing a strike you don’t like? Communists fighting in the street? Everyone knows Moscow is run by Jews. You don’t agree? Then either you are being duped or you are a Jew and a part of the conspiracy.’

‘That might sound good to voters in Bavaria, but it won’t get Mister Hitler very far if he wants to get into the national government. The way I hear it, Hitler is virtually unknown outside of Bavaria, and my guess is he’ll stay that way.’

‘You don’t know this guy. Don’t imagine he has any kind of written manifesto that you can challenge him on. He’s all things to all men. He trades on emotions, not facts. When he goes for the Reichstag he’ll have a fresh set of answers ready. This guy is dynamite. We had an office in Munich. I’ve heard him speaking at his meetings. He holds people spellbound. He’s full of spite, brimful of hatred and contempt. There is nothing constructive in what he says: just threats of what he’ll do to the sort of people he blames for all the troubles.’

‘All politicians are negative,’ said his father. ‘A promise to punish the fortunate and soak the rich is always good for a few votes.’

‘But in Germany too many people are ready to believe in the quick and easy solution.’

‘It will all pass,’ said his father. There was a note of weariness detectable in his voice. His father was still so energetic that it was difficult to believe he was seventy-four years old, except when now and again the mask slipped. ‘It’s the legacy of war – defeat, disappointment, hunger. It will pass.’

‘I wish I could believe you, Dad. But the fact is that this poison is more prevalent among students than among any other sector of the population. Students – university students for the most part – fellows who were too young to go to the war, are more bitter about the defeat than the soldiers who were in the fighting. Veterans know in their hearts that the Germans were licked on the battlefield; the kids who weren’t there like to believe all that “stab-in-the-back” stuff. And the kids are the ones who get violent. They are full of energy and full of hate. They are looking for a cause, and Hitler will provide it for them.’

‘For God’s sake, don’t tell the Danzigers any of this, Glenn. Lottie’s father is worried sick at the idea of her remaining in Berlin. He always calls me up when he comes into town, and we usually lunch at the club. Some idiot friend of his sent him clippings from German newspapers. He had his office translate the stuff. I don’t know what it said, but he’s darned worried. So don’t tell him, huh?’

‘The club? Is Mr Danziger now a member of the club?’

His father looked flustered. ‘Well, no. They still have that stupid rule about members … but taking a Jew in as a guest is okay.’

Glenn could think of nothing to say. They sat in silence for a few moments. Outside there was the continual sound of motorcars, it was hard to believe that when he was a child the house had been so quiet.

‘He’s letting some little film company build movie lots and stages on his orange groves.’

‘Danziger?’ said Glenn.

‘Just a handful of cash and twenty-five per cent of the movie company.’

‘Is it a good deal?’

‘He’s gone soft in the head, if you ask me. Twenty-five per cent of nothing is nothing. Just like ninety-nine per cent of nothing is nothing. And what’s a movie company got in assets except its real estate?’

‘Did you tell Danziger that?’

‘Contracts, he says. Contracts with actors. Can you imagine how that would show on the auditors’ books?’

‘Movies are doing okay, aren’t they?’

‘Do you know how long it will take him to get real quality fruit growing there again?’

‘Danziger can afford a few mistakes,’ said Glenn Rensselaer.

‘I’m not sure he can,’ said his father. ‘The Danzigers are not rich.’

Glenn smiled.

‘I’m serious.’

‘I know you are, Dad, but I remember you telling me that his assets would total some five million dollars. How can you say he’s not rich?’

The old man did not reply for a moment. He didn’t think it was funny. But Glenn Rensselaer had noticed that this obsession with money, the raw measure of power that money represented, was one of the few ways in which his father’s old age showed. ‘To tell you frankly, I wasn’t happy to think of his eldest daughter marrying into the family. Lottie is a nice enough girl, of course, but not right for little Peter.’

‘Your “little Peter” is now a qualified lawyer and a junior partner in Winter’s holding company.’

His father seemed not to have heard. ‘I couldn’t say that to Danziger, of course.’

‘No, of course,’ said Glenn. In fact, old Cyrus Rensselaer’s opinion of Lottie Danziger’s suitability had not been sought by Harald Winter, by Veronica Winter, or by Peter Winter. And the old man had been hurt by that.

‘I miss her,’ said his father suddenly.

‘Veronica? But that’s half a lifetime ago.’

‘I should never have agreed to her going to Europe. I had a strange premonition about it.’

‘Really?’

‘But she was determined to go, and I wanted her to be happy.’ There was a passion in the old man that he’d not heard before. The loss of his beloved daughter was an agony that had tormented him all this time.

‘But that was more than thirty years ago, Dad.’

‘Wait till your children leave home; you’ll find out what it’s like.’

‘And me? Did you miss me?’

‘Sure I did. But I worried about Veronica. She was such a sweet child. So helpless, so trusting …I hate that bastard. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Harry?’

‘I’ll pay him back.’ For the first time his father smiled. It was the crafty smile that only the old know. ‘He’ll suffer as I’ve suffered. Then he’ll know what he did to me.’

‘You mustn’t blame Harry. He was an attractive man: powerful and ruthless in a way that Veronica found attractive…’ Glenn stopped.

‘Attractive in me? Is that what you were going to say?’

Reluctantly Glenn admitted it. ‘Yes, Harry is ruthless in that same way.’

‘And you didn’t admire it?’

‘It’s not my style, Dad. And that was just as well – we would have fought.’

‘You’re right, Glenn. You never fought me. You’ve been a good son. Did I never tell you that?’

‘You never did, Dad.’

‘Loyal. And I love loyalty. Just as I repay treachery. Want to know what I’ve done about Harry?’

‘I’m not sure I do.’

‘I’ve fixed it so that Peter is offered the job of a lifetime. And Harald adores Peter, the eldest.’

‘A job?’

‘A bank in Los Angeles. I recently bought a stake in it. They’ll offer Peter Winter a vice-presidency. He’ll come and live in America.’

‘A bank in Los Angeles?’

‘I fixed jobs for two of Dot’s boys in the bank there, and they are doing fine.’ Glenn nodded. He’d heard that the old man had gone to a lot of trouble for his stepsons. They, in return, had taken the name Rensselaer. ‘And Peter will do fine, too.’

‘I’d forget about it, Dad. You don’t want to come between father and son.’

‘What about father and daughter?’ the old man said shrilly. ‘That’s what he did, that Harald Winter, the swine.’

‘That was natural. He fell in love. He didn’t do it to give you a bad time, Dad.’

‘He fell in love with the Rensselaer money, that’s what he fell in love with; everyone knows that.’

‘He was doing all right without it.’

‘He was on the verge of bankruptcy. I bailed that tinhorn out, not once but twice, and then he had the nerve to pay me back in confetti.’

‘Let him be, Dad. Veronica loves you; she’ll visit you. Be patient.’

‘It’s too late now. He’ll find out what it’s like. He’ll find out and I’ll have the laugh on him.’

‘Take it easy, Dad.’

‘He’ll find out what it’s like to lose your favourite child.’

Glenn Rensselaer nodded but didn’t answer. He’d always known that he wasn’t his father’s favourite, but hearing him say it hurt, hurt like hell.

‘It’s nothing to cry about’

Veronica Winter knew before her husband, and it was Lottie Winter who told her. The two women had become very close since Lottie’s marriage to Peter. At first it had been no more than the comfort of an American voice, but over the months the relationship had become more like that of mother and daughter. Harald Winter didn’t like it, of course – he’d never liked Lottie enough to welcome her as a daughter-in-law – but he was shrewd enough to know, right from the start, that he could do nothing to influence the relationship. So Veronica and her daughter-in-law had tea together regularly. It was an event to which both women always looked forward with great pleasure.

It was two weeks before Christmas when Lottie brought the exciting news about the job. An Italian-born vice-president of the bank had made a special journey from Milan, Italy, where he was consolidating a big loan and visiting some members of his family, just to put the matter to Peter in person.

‘But it will be wonderful, Lottie. You’ll be with your family again.’

‘Yes, it will be.’

‘Why so down-in-the-mouth?’ said Veronica. She’d never seen her daughter-in-law like this before.

‘I feel so at home here now. It has been so marvellous putting the home together for Peter that I can’t face the thought of losing it all and starting again.’

‘But think of the sunshine and your family.’

‘I know, I keep telling myself that. But here I’m a person, a someone. At home my folks treat me like a child.’

‘Not now you’re married, they won’t, Lottie darling. Your mother will be transported to have you there with her.’

‘She’s not my real mother. My real mother died in a railroad accident in Chicago when I was five.’

‘I’m sorry, Lottie; I forgot that.’

‘And my stepmother won’t be so crazy about having to share Dad.’

‘I’m sure you’re wrong,’ said Veronica.

‘No, I know her too well. She loves me and I love her, but every letter she writes says how pleased she is that I’m settling down here.’

‘What about your father?’

‘I’d like to go and see Dad, but a visit would be enough. A visit over January, February and March, when the weather is so terrible here.’

‘And what about Peter?’

‘I don’t want to influence him one way or the other. It’s his life: his career. And all the more difficult when a family business is involved.’

‘His father wouldn’t disinherit him, Lottie.’

‘Now, don’t get me wrong, Mrs Winter. Money doesn’t enter into it, but I reckon that a wife, if she’s smart, doesn’t give her husband advice about his career. Because if things go wrong she is likely to get all the blame. Men are like that; at least I figure they are.’

‘I’m afraid men are like that, Lottie.’

The maid came in. Veronica had recently changed all the servants’ uniforms so that they were no longer in ankle-length skirts. This parlourmaid had a fashionably short black dress with a superb lace apron and cap. Lottie decided that her servants should be similarly modernized.

It was the complete silver tea service. Even though the two women knew that neither of their husbands would join them, plates, teacups and cutlery were set for four, as always. As well as the traditional German plum tart there were brownies. Ever since the first tea they’d had together Veronica always tried to arrange to have some American cookies or pastries prepared for Lottie. It had become a treat that they both looked forward to, a calculated touch of nostalgia.

When the parlourmaid had poured tea, offered the neatly cut thin bread and butter, and departed with a curtsy, Veronica turned to her guest and said, ‘What is it, Lottie? I feel there’s something else bothering you. Is there something wrong between you and Peter? Would it help you to talk about it?’

‘Oh, Mrs Winter!’

‘I do wish you’d call me Veronica.’

‘Oh, Veronica,’ she said. Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘You’ve been so wonderful.’

‘Lottie, darling, what is it?’

‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘I’m certain.’

‘Have you told Peter?’

‘You’re the first person I’ve told.’

‘It’s nothing to cry about, Lottie darling. It’s something to celebrate.’ Lottie continued to cry; the tears rolled down her face, and she didn’t even try to dab them away. Veronica searched for something else to say: ‘And Peter will be overjoyed. He certainly won’t take the job in California at a time like this. It would be too much for you … unless they’ll wait a year.’

‘They won’t wait,’ said Lottie, drying her eyes with a tiny lace handkerchief. ‘The position has to be filled by the end of January; they specially stipulated that.’

‘Peter wouldn’t go there alone. He wouldn’t leave you. I know he wouldn’t, and I’d forbid it anyway.’

Lottie sobbed more until she was gasping for breath. Veronica put her arms round the young woman to comfort her. ‘Lottie darling, you must pull yourself together. Sit back. Blow your nose, and have some tea.’

‘He’ll turn down the job,’ said Lottie after she’d had a few moments to recover. ‘Peter will turn down the job, on account of the baby. Then he’ll blame me forever afterwards.’

‘You silly child. Of course he won’t. He’ll be the happiest man in the world.’

‘Do you really think so?’

‘Of course he will. And he’ll be a marvellous father. You must tell him your news as soon as he arrives – I’ll leave you together for a few moments – and we must get a cable off to your father and to my father, too. Everyone is going to be so excited at the news.’