MONDAY, JUNE 19, 1922

Nine ...ten ... eleven ... twelve? It's Monday and he isn't home yet. Sometimes he doesn't come home at all so why should he tonight? When we're ready for him. If we don't fall asleep. Just like the War: can't sleep when there's time, can't stay awake when you have to. But Christoph won't fall asleep. Sitting fully dressed in his room, waiting. My window is open to the moonlit summer night so that I can hear a car, or footsteps, but my window faces the stable. Unless they bring another car (which they won't), he should be coming in the front door and Christoph will hear him first. Looked funny to rush away like that, before Sunday night tea. Lili thought it was strange. If Helena had been there she would have made a fuss, but Helena was at some fancy reception for Rathenau and Chicherin, Russian foreign minister in town a few days. Lili's parents also invited. Wouldn't go. Bolsheviks. Out in the sloop with Lili, gentle breeze, learning to handle boat by herself. Sitting down in the hull, trying to sketch her. Not much sense to take a sketch pad into a sailboat, bound to get wet and too busy with boat, but I thought I should work every day. Hadn't done anything yet. Big scene with Falke Friday. Not doing any more still lifes, glasses of water and fish bones. Who is student here and who is teacher? Who is paying for the lessons? No more inanimate objects, want to paint people. Funny glint in his eye. New expression. Want to paint people, eh? Shout for Bärbel, asleep in next room. Nothing happened. Falke bounds out of chair into bedroom, sound of hand slapping naked flesh, scream, bare feet hitting floor, Bärbel, dressed only in slip, propelled into studio. Face swollen and red from sleep, contorted in anger. He wants to paint people. Show him what people look like. Take that thing off, and she dodged sideways to avoid the blow, already pulling the slip over her head....Don't think about it. Think about Lili, holding the tiller in one hand and the main sheet in the other, glancing up at the sail, as we lost wind coming into the lee of the island, trying to figure out how to catch the exact look of puzzled annoyance as the sail began to flutter, what brought on his rage? Stuck his hands between her thighs and slowly turned her around. You like that ass? Finest ass in Berlin, definitely not an inanimate object. Wasn't drunk at all. Middle of the morning, Baby in school, Mutti Bauer out with the boy standing in some queue to get groceries, what was the matter with him? Just don't think about it. Forget about it? Lili turned her head. There is somebody waving on our dock. Christoph? Yes. No, don't point that close to the wind, we'll lose our headway, there isn't enough wind here to do that, point it down, that way. I know, but this isn't a motorboat. Have to go way over there and then come back on the other tack. No, it's fine, you're doing fine. I know, I can see him, he'll just have to wait a few minutes. Put your hands against the back of your head, commanded Falke. Yes. You like her like that? I want some coffee, said Bärbel. You know we haven't got any, said Falke. I'll go get some, said I. No you won't, said Falke. You're going to begin a pencil sketch in preparation for a life-size oil figure study. And besides there isn't any coffee in all of Neukölln. Coming back on the opposite tack we could point almost on the reeds of the beach, that got us a little closer to the dock and Christoph cups his hands around his mouth and one word floats across the quiet water. My hands were shaking, but I tried. You want to paint her or you want to fuck her? Can't do both at the same time. Can I take my arms down? asked Bärbel. Tell him what I'll do to you if you move a muscle while you're posing. Who is Kowalski? asks Lili as she changes places with me so that I can bring the boat in. Her suntanned cool hand fastens around my elbow for support. He's a sculptor, friend of Christoph's. Is he the one who teaches you to paint? If you don't tell him, said Falke, I'm going to demonstrate right now. He's a filthy swine, said Bärbel through her teeth. No, I said, the painter is Fritz Falke. This one's a sculptor, Christoph has some business with him. You mean tonight? Christoph has business on Sunday night? All right, said Falke, heading for the door. He tries to push a beer bottle ... into me. Show him where, said Falke, at the door. You may take your hands down to show him which hole. She did. Falke walked out and slammed the door.

One! He isn't coming. Why should he? But he was here last night, and the night before. Meier told us. And nothing's been seen of Tillessen. Or the third man. Maybe they smelled something. Me. The American Agent. Unlikely role, if they only knew. But they don't. What they know is they obtained a powerful expensive car, hid it in Kaspar Keith's stable, and it's gone, and they find an American with no very plausible explanation for his presence in the household of Generalmajor Keith. If Kaspar isn't already in on it, the safest thing would be to avoid him, avoid the Villa Keith. Which may be why he's been home alone so much lately, while we cursed Kowalski and thought about the British army in Cologne and worried that I might not have enough money to buy morphine if Kowalski disappeared because Dr. Strassburger now sent word (through Christoph) that he felt the mark would drop sharply during the rest of the year. Advised me to put up nearly all of my dollars in Amsterdam and borrow ten times as many additional dollars from Waldstein's Amsterdam bank to buy forward delivery contracts in marks - that is, contracts to deliver marks in three months and in six months, on the theory that they will be worth much less then. But what if the mark stops falling? I asked. What if Rathenau convinces the Allies to reduce their demands, or to take raw materials or German products instead of gold? What happens if I have to cover? I won't even be able to repay the loan. Christoph said yes, Strassburger is well aware of that. I'll be absolutely busted and so far in debt that I'll never get out. I might have to go bankrupt! One of my mother's uncles went bankrupt. He shot himself in his office in the Land Title Building, corner of Broad and Chestnut Streets in Philadelphia. Nobody ever mentions his name, not even his children. Christoph only smiled, a little sardonically: I don't think anybody expects you to file for bankruptcy, or to shoot yourself. But you might have to go home. Listen, I said, hearing my voice shaking, I don't want to paint right now, I just don't think I can, and she nodded and took my hand and led me over to the bed. It's all right, she said, already unfastening my buttons. But he's right outside! It's all right, she said again and pressed herself against me. I feel you want to, and he wants us to. But why? Lili was upset about the play, what happened at the play. And afterwards. Why do the people hate the Jews so much? Only some of the people. But why? Don't ask me why, he is a swine, a crazy swine. But you let him treat you this way. Yes, don't talk so much, just do that. Yes, like that, oh yes! That's good. Hold me like that. I don't know much about Jews but I know how to sail a boat and when you get too close to the wind the sail will flutter like that. You're pointing too close to the wind. No, the sail is right the way you have it, point the boat downwind. Move the tiller. That's right, like that. Do it like that. Harder! But he will hear the springs! Don't think about it. He's gone out anyway. How old are you? Did you know my greatgrandfather was a Jew? He became a Christian. Yes, Christoph told me about your family. His brother hates the Jews. Yes, I know. His brother was to marry Sigrid. Yes, I know. Then we came into the shadow of the island. You liked that? Did I like it? I'm a new man, but I can't tell her that. I only smile. You have a cigarette?

One ... Two! Isn't coming. Fell asleep. Sit up and light a cigarette. No, he might smell the smoke in the hall. I'm sorry, Lili, said Christoph as he helped her out of the boat. Peter and I cannot stay to eat, we must go back to town. On Sunday evening? Surely the Bank is closed. No, this is an important client. You are making Peter a banker now? Irritated, didn't believe a word. I busied myself in the boat, taking down the sail, fastening the boom, pulling up the centerboard. Rolled over on her stomach now, propped up on her elbows, smoking the cigarette, blowing smoke at me over her shoulder. You agree it is the finest ass in Berlin? Well, I haven't seen the others. She laughed, breasts swaying between her elbows. Looking at her: Is it true about the beer bottle? Once. Hurt like hell. Why do you stay with him? Didn't answer, put the cigarette in her mouth, got off the bed and stooped to pick up her slip. Now I've got to have some breakfast. With the money I give him and the money you give him, at least that Schweinehund could have some coffee in the kitchen. Peter has to change his clothes and you can have a cup of tea, said Lili. They are just bringing it down now. On the other side, the shadow of the island had reached the public beaches. People take down their parasols. Women wrap towels around themselves and manage to get their bathing suits off and their clothes on while wrapped in damp sandy towels. Then they hold up the towels so that the men can change in more dignified privacy. On the other side of the Tea House, the Waldsteins have comfortable dressing rooms for the guests. I step out of the shower and find Christoph looking at his wristwatch. I don't want to go out there, I said, I can't look him in the face. He won't be there, he's gone out to find a drink, he'll drink all day now, we won't see him until tomorrow. Why tonight? Because Kowalski has the stuff, we've delayed too long already, I just can't stand to wait another night! Did he call here? No, he called the house and told Meier he had to reach me, so Meier called out here. just now. How are we going to get in there? Bobby's up at the Schloss, he says he'll run us over to Nikolassee in the Horch. They all think it's a little strange, Sunday night, such beautiful weather, I already told her Kowalski is a sculptor, so now you've got to explain why a sculptor is such an important client that we've got to rush into town on Sunday evening without staying for dinner. On the contrary: the best advice is never apologize, never explain. On Saturday I had rigged up a pulley to connect the buoy with the floating dock, and Lili was using it as we said goodbye, hauling the sloop out to the buoy, and a big motor launch was passing, moving slowly but drawing a lot of water, making a deep wake, and the sloop rose and fell in the wake, and as we climbed the gravel path I heard the boom clanking in its socket, realizing I hadn't strapped it down tight enough and it will go on clanking like that every time some waves come in and maybe she will think of me when she hears the boom clanking like that. Bärbel eating a slice of black bread with lard on it, drinking tea made out of herbs. Will you let me take you out for breakfast? No, too lazy to get dressed and then undressed. You draw my picture now and then you take me out to lunch. What will Fritz say? You don't worry about Fritz. What will Bobby say, driving us in the huge old Horch, driving us across the clunking wooden bridge and up into the Scotch pines toward Nikolassee?

Jesus, is that the door? Screaming silence. On the other side of the house a car drives by. but it didn't stop, did it? Was that the door? Is Christoph moving? I can't hear anything now, but it sounded like a door. Where is the stuff? For Christ's sake don't knock over anything in the dark, it's all right here, it doesn't help to use the Redeemer's name in vain my old man says exasperated, it's just the sign of a limited vocabulary. Silence. False alarm. He's not coming anyway, we could have stayed, I could have spent the evening with Lili. What do you think about Jews? I don't know. I don't think I think anything about them. How can you not think anything about them? Well, what do you want me to think about them? Well, do you like them, or don't you like them?

Want to hear a story? Yes. My parents have a friend, Miss Boatwright, well you know her, she was just here the other day. Yes, I know Miss Boatwright. All right, well, Miss Boatwright, she's a wonderful person, always trying to help good causes, raising money for all sorts of things, and one time she was raising money for a Conference of Christians and Jews, you see, to promote understanding between the Christians and the Jews. And she came to see my father, although she has much, much more money than my father, her family owns the Locomotive Works, but anyway she asked my father to contribute money to this conference and he wouldn't because, he said, he didn't like Christians or Jews! Is that supposed to be funny? I thought it was sort of funny, yes. But your father is a Christian, isn't he? Yes, of course. Then why is it funny if he says ... Oh never mind, I didn't tell it right. There is an American lady here, said Mutti Bauer, putting her head in the door. Bärbel has one stocking on, and nothing else. She asks for Peter Ellis. An American lady? Get dressed, said Mutti Bauer to Bärbel. She said it angrily. He's painting me, Mutti, I'm his model, but she slipped past her mother into the darkness of the bedroom and as I follow I hear and feel and smell her putting on the kimono and in the kitchen Miss Boatwright is still panting from the climb, trying out her German on the boy. Wie alt bist du, kleiner Junge? Good morning Peter, I hope this visit is not inconvenient. Bobby didn't ask any questions. Drove the Horch. I had not been alone with him since we met his Russian countess at the Adlon, and they'd had to leave because of us. I wanted to say something to him, but I just didn't know what to say. He and Christoph talked politics. Silesia. The people in Silesia voted to stay with Germany, but the Allies were going to give half of it to Poland anyhow. Uproar in the Reichstag tomorrow. What will Helfferich say? Leader of the Nationalists, been making personal attacks on Rathenau. Not a bad man, actually, says Bobby. Used to be in the Deutsche Bank, friend of Father's. Often been to the house. But these attacks, always picking on Rathenau ... Bobby shakes his head. I think of Lili, pulling on the boat rope. Goodbye I said. Goodbye she said, not turning around. Thank you for a lovely weekend. You're welcome. Are you angry with me? Why should I be angry? You teach me how to sail, now you have Bank business in town on Sunday night. Men do the things they want to do. I didn't say it was Bank business. Peter, we're going to miss the train. Bobby's eyes look sad. Mutti Bauer's eyes look puzzled, what is this lady doing here? This is Frau Falke, the wife of my teacher who is out on an errand, Miss Boatwright. And this is her mother, Frau Bauer, Miss Boatwright of the American Friends Service Committee ... Die Kwäker? Both women say it in unison, almost a gasp. Atmosphere changes. Cupboards are flipped open, plates and cups appear, apparently some sort of meal must be served although Miss Boatwright keeps protesting that she just ate, she wants to see my pictures, Herr Falke's pictures. They serve the herb tea, and the bread with lard, and potato soup with a sausage cut up in it, and Mutti Bauer explains that but for the Quakers this grandson and her younger daughter would have starved in 1919. Not this one, this one was older, we got enough meat on her before the times became so hard, she even nursed her baby but the younger one was only eleven when the hunger began, she didn't gain one kilo in two years, she's still as thin as a boy, but when your people served milk and pudding in the schools she began to grow.... As we got out of the Horch at Nikolassee, Bobby looked at us and smiled a sad smile and said Hals-und-Beinbruch and roared off. Does he know something? I think he knows we are not going on a picnic, said Christoph. And for the first time I wondered how many people Kaspar Keith has killed. His photograph albums. We got off the train at Bahnhof Zoo and took a taxi down to the Nollendorf Platz but the minute we got into the taxi and had to give the driver the address of Kowalski's apartment, we knew we were in trouble. We had both forgotten it. A lovely summer evening, crowded streets. Would Kowalski have a telephone? Frau Bauer proudly told Miss Boatwright that I was painting her daughter. Oh good, may I watch you doing that? What does she want, the American lady? Oh no. Retreated to the bedroom. Stand naked in front of that lady? So siehst Du aus! You're just proving you're not really a model. A professional model wouldn't give it a thought, her body's just an object for the artist to paint. Kowalski had no telephone. Maybe he left his address with Meier when he called. Christoph came out of the telephone kiosk of the cafe and shook his head. You invited him for lunch at Lutter's. How did you find him? We are sitting in this cafe on the Nollendorf Platz and Christoph is leafing wildly through his address book. How did you get him down for lunch so fast if he doesn't have a telephone? Sent a bank messenger. But how did you know where to send the messenger if you didn't have his address? Drinking coffee. Don't even have a cup of coffee to offer the American lady. She doesn't want any coffee, she wants to see my work, she's already bought one of my pictures, she might buy one of Fritz's if you will stop acting so ... I didn't know the German word for coy. Miss Boatwright, come into the studio, I'm just working on Frau Falke's face today, this is eventually going to be a full figure study but as you know I'm interested in faces so we're working on the face first. Nobody looks at the tumbled bed sheets until Mutti Bauer comes in, ostentatiously makes up the bed: Solch ein Saustall! Pigpen? These are certainly very strong statements says Miss Boatwright, peering through her glasses at Falke's phantasmagorias. I have it! shouts Christoph slamming the marble table.

One ... two ... three! Well, he's not coming. He's drunk and asleep in some apartment full of rifles and submachine guns and other sleeping, hate-crazed men. But does this operation really make sense? Trying to cut out one sick boy instead of trying to stop the whole thing? I told the messenger to find Kowalski's address at the Polizeirevier Nollendorf Platz! In fact, it was the messenger who suggested it. The police station? Certainly. The police have a list of every person in every apartment. And they let you look at it? If you have a proper reason. You mean to tell me we're going to the police station now? Why not? I'm trying to find my old war comrade Kowalski who lives just off the Nollendorf Platz but I can't remember exactly ... As I look at Bärbel's face, her modestly downcast eyes, I feel her legs around me. Frau Falke, please look at me. I want to see your eyes. You gentlemen took your time, says Kowalski as he opens the door. I telephoned the moment my train arrived.... He wants to tell his adventures, but we want to leave. Three small parcels wrapped in newspapers. Had sewn them into the bottom of his trench coat. Hypodermic syringe. Small bottle of chloroform. A dozen little vials containing clear liquid. Is this the Amytal? How much do we? One every twelve hours. But that's only enough for six days! I told you two weeks. Shakes his head. All he could get his hands on. Not on sale yet, still strictly controlled in the lab. And he said better give two ampules the first time. It's the best I could do, Keith. And it wasn't easy. The Tommys stopped me twice. If they had searched me I would be in the Fortress Cologne now. It's good, I understand. And thank you. Formal handshakes. Hals-und-Beinbruch, says Kowalski, just like Bobby. Later: Why does Kowalski owe you a favor? Nothing, don't want to talk now. At that party, you said they are Communists. Was Kowalski ... Same camp with you so he must have been an officer? Yes. German officer who was a Communist? I will tell you the story some other time. Did the other German officers know this one was a Communist? Long story, Peter. Tell you another time. We have a hard job tonight. Did you save Kowalski's life at La Rochelle? Maybe he thinks that. Well, tell me about it. Not tonight. Tonight we do our plan. And he didn't bring us enough Amytal. I have watched Mr. Ellis paint before, so I don't believe it disturbs him. Miss Boatwright's German is not as good as mine. Bärbel's eyes move back and forth, the green eyes of a cat. A cat who smells money. American money. What if Falke comes back? How can she love a guy who treats her like that? Somebody told me the worse you treat them - But is that true? Animals? Pigpen? Beginning to look a little like her? Putting on her stockings. Long way from the azalea gardens at Friends Hospital, hot summer afternoons, long hot summer afternoons, trying to capture the real face behind the mask of tissue and bone, concentrating so hard on trying, concentrating so hard that the other things recede, little by little the other things recede so I can sleep at night, even when the nights are very hot....

"WANT ... HIM ... OUT ... OF ... THIS ... HOUSE! " Kaspar. Jesus Christ Almighty, fell asleep after all, he's already inside, he's shouting at Christoph! Up and out and - crash. Wet. Oh my God that was the chloroform! Don't breathe, don't breathe! The sponge, yes, forget the other stuff, just soak the sponge in wetness and don't breathe. Out of the door, hold away from face, take one breath, step silently across the hall - "He cannot stay in this house, it compromises our position, our name!" - burst into the brightly lighted room, Kaspar red-faced, apparently drunk, turns in surprise as I slam the sponge against his face and Christoph comes out of the wicker chair and tackles him below the knees, a neat American tackle, where did he learn that? and Kaspar, crashing sideways, strikes out wildly with both arms, strong arms, catches the side of my head and my ear rings but I've kept the sponge in place, he's taken deep drafts of chloroform now and the thrashing stops. All three of us are gasping, lying on the floor, I'm dizzy....

I'm sorry Christoph! Fell asleep...

Where's the other stuff? Go get it, quickly! Don't want him to get too much chloroform. Leave the door open. Have the Meiers heard anything? I come back with the filled syringe. The place reeks of chloroform although the window is open. I roll up Kaspar's sleeve. What are you doing? Giving him the shot. In the arm? Of course. Where else? We give it here, pointing to chest. Pectoral muscle. Never heard of that. We give it in the biceps. Then do it your way, only hurry! I haven't done this in a long time, my hand is shaking, but somehow I sink the needle under Kaspar's chalky skin and slowly inject the double dose of Amytal. He is breathing heavily, his eyes are closed. All right, now what? The night was turning gray and birds were singing.

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1. PARIS 1922
2. VERDUN 1916
17. THURSDAY, JUNE 15, 1922
>18. MONDAY, JUNE 19, 1922
19. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 21, 1922
20. FRIDAY, JUNE 23, 1922
21. SATURDAY, JUNE 24, 1922