I woke up when the door opened. At first I didn't know, where I was, but then I saw Christoph Keith. The upstairs hall behind him was dark, but there must have been a light on downstairs, because I could see his face and his dripping trench coat.
"Peter? Are you awake?"
"I am now. What's the matter?" I turned on the bedside lamp. He limped heavily into the room, closed the door and leaned against it.
"Did you know there is a car parked in the stable", he asked. "An Austro-Daimler?"
"Yes, I think Kaspar brought it this evening."
"Kaspar brought it? Kaspar cannot drive a car."
"Well, I guess the other fellow drove it."
"Which other fellow?"
"I forget his name. The older man who was with Kaspar the other day, the one you told to get out of here."
"Tillessen? Tillessen brought that car here?"
"Yes, and there was a third man, but I didn't talk to them, I just saw them from the window ... Why don't you ask Kaspar?"
"Kaspar isn't home, of course." Christoph emitted a sigh, walked across the room, sat down in the wicker armchair and held his face in his hands. I saw that his trench coat was soaked; he must have walked from the trolley stop. Why hadn't he taken the coat off before he came upstairs?
"What's wrong, Christoph?"
He moved his hand away from his eyes and looked at me for a long moment before he answered.
"Peter, I would give anything in the world not to involve you, but I must ask your help. This may be hard for an American to believe, but a German officer does not necessarily learn how to drive a car. We always had drivers in the army, since the War of course we have no car ... I cannot drive, Peter. And I cannot start a car without a key. Will you help me?"
As we were moving through the huge dark kitchen, Christoph whispered: "One moment, I must get something from the cellar," and suddenly the lights went on and there was Meier, the butler, white as chalk, trousers with suspenders over a night shirt, pointing an ancient cavalry carabine: "Was ist los, Herr Oberleutnant?"
A hissed command sent the old man back up the kitchen stairs, and Christoph descended into the basement. While he was down there I thought about what I would need. I found a short sharp paring knife in a drawer, and took a box of matches from the stove. Christoph came back up the cellar stairs. He was carrying a sledgehammer.
It was a big, expensive car, and it smelled of leather. I lay on my back under the steering wheel while Christoph lighted matches for me. I had never even seen an Austro-Daimler before, so it took six matches for me to find the right wires. I cut them.
"All right," I said, and sat up behind the wheel.
"You can start it?"
"I think so."
"Please make as little noise as possible, and don't turn on the lights until we are out on the street."
Brake off, clutch out, hand throttle, choke ... I reached down and twisted the wires together fast. No shock, no sparks, the engine - still warm -turned over and caught. Cautiously I eased in the clutch, and we rolled out of the dry darkness of the stable into the streaming darkness of the night. I steered with one hand and flipped switches with the other, trying to start the windshield wipers.
Jagdschloss Grunewald said the sign. Einfahrt verboten!
"Is there a chain across there?" I asked, squinting through the rain.
"No," said Christoph. "German people obey signs. Drive into the courtyard and then turn sharp to the right."
Our headlights swept the dark empty hunting lodge as I turned across the cobbled courtyard into what looked like a bridle path.
"Hey, this isn't paved," I said, shifting down into first gear. "This is just sand. We might get stuck in here."
"Go as far as you can."
A deep forest of Scotch pines. Every time the path twisted to the left I could see the misty surface of the lake reflecting our headlight beams.
"All right, in a few meters the path divides," said Christoph, leaning forward to peer through the wipers. "You take the one to the right, away from the water."
"Christoph, won't you please tell me what we're doing?"
"Better not.... There is the fork! Give gas, we must climb now."
I was sure we were going to get stuck. This new path was barely wide enough for the car, which lumbered up the hill between walls of thick shrubbery.
As we reached the top Christoph told me to watch for a barricade; a second later our headlights revealed a pile of logs blocking the path.
"Stop," said Christoph. "Turn the engine off but leave the lights on." He opened the door, stepped out, and walked around the front of the car. I saw that he was carrying the sledgehammer. I reached down and jerked the ignition wires apart. The engine stopped - and the lights went out. Now the only sound was rain splattering through the leaves.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I guess the lights are connected to the ignition. Do you want me to cross the wires again?"
"No, it's not necessary. Bring the matches. They are on the seat."
I got out of the car and saw that he had unfastened the latch and opened the hood.
"Light a match and hold it over here, please."
I lit a match and looked at the huge exposed engine.
"Please move a little to the left," said Christoph, and as I did I heard him step back and grunt, and with one tremendous overhead swing he brought the sledge crashing down on the engine. It crushed the air filter and smashed the carburetor, and suddenly the air reeked of gasoline. I dropped the match and stepped on it.
"Don't light another," said Christoph.
"Don't worry!"
"Stand back, it's not enough." In the darkness, another grunt, another, more resonant, crash echoed through the forest - and this time we heard the hiss of escaping steam.
Water splashed upon the sand. He had cracked the engine block. I felt him approach me in the darkness. He was breathing heavily.
"You think I'm crazy, don't you? Perhaps I am crazy."
"I think you don't want anybody to use this car."
"Yes, that's correct." He put his hand on my shoulder. His arm trembled. "You are a good friend, Peter. I thank you. And I hope this will not cause trouble for you."
"It might help if you would tell me what's going on."
"I'm afraid you will find out soon enough what's going on. Now see how far into the bushes you can throw this hammer, and get my cane out of the car. We have a long walk in the rain before the sun comes up."
>PROLOGUE - THURSDAY, JUNE 15, 1922
I. HOW I GOT THERE
1. PARIS 1922
2. VERDUN 1916
3. IT'S STEALING MONEY, ISN'T IT
4. WHERE WERE YOU IN 1919?
5. RELIABLE TROOPS
6. AN ISLAND
7. BISMARCK FOUND THEM USEFUL
8. INTRODUCTIONS
9. THE LITTLE HOUSE
10. INDIAN CROSSES
11. ANOTHER PART OF TOWN
12. A VIEW OF THE GENDARMENMARKT
13. TWO FOR TEA
14. ON THE TOWN
15. A VIEW OF THE HAVEL
16. REIGEN
II. WHAT HAPPENED
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
22. WHAT HAPPENED?
III. THE WITCHES' SABBATH
23. SILENCE WITH VOICES
24. THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS
25. SAME SONGS, DIFFERENT SINGERS
26. THEY'RE ONLY GOING TO HIRE HIS VOICE
27. INFLATION WORKS IN DIFFERENT WAYS
28. SMALL CHANGE
29. WHY NOT PAINT LILI?
30. COLD WIND IN MAY
31. ROLLING THUNDER
32. WALDSTEIN'S VOICE
33. THE MATTER OF A DOWRY
34. A RUSSIAN WORD AND A GERMAN WORD
35. THE MARCH ON BERLIN
36. A PIG LOSES MONEY ALL THE TIME
37. THE ARTISTS' BALL
IV. STRIKE TWELVE ZEROs
38. AMYTAL DREAMS
39. LETTERS
40. PROFESSOR JAFFA'S PROGNOSIS
41. THE OTHER SUBJECT
42. ROLLING HOME