Will, стр. 64
The door opens. The man in the leather coat nods at me and I go in while he leaves and closes the door behind him. Red-headed Gregor is standing there in his black uniform. He gestures at a chair. I sit down.
Gregor tries to tone down his German accent. He doesn’t really succeed, but his mastery of our language is greater than I expected when I heard him at my Aunty Emma’s.
‘Better here than in a bar, Herr Wils.’
I nod. My heart rate starts to come down a little.
‘A glass of water?’ Without waiting for an answer, he goes over to a side table and picks up a carafe. I empty the glass he offers me in three gulps. Without a comment he refills it.
‘You seem a little nervous…’
‘My apologies, Oberscharführer.’
Gregor smiles. ‘You know my rank.’
‘Of course.’
‘And you know what I am doing in your city?’
I nod.
‘Then surely you have nothing to fear? Unless you are circumcised. Are you circumcised, Herr Wils?’ He looks at me for a moment. ‘Forgive me, that was not a very respectable Witz. Forgive me too for the manner in which you were brought here. I hope that has not made too much of an impression on you. Na gut, let us not beat around the bush. As you probably know, the Sicherheitsdienst has reconciled itself to the fact that your police service will no longer provide assistance during the finalization of the Jewish question. Das ist kein Problem. After all, this last summer we noticed that your services leak like a… How do you put it here?’
‘Like a sieve.’
‘Wie ein Sieb, almost the same word…’
I nod.
‘Our mutual friend has let me know that we can count on you. That would be useful, especially now Herr Vingerhoets has met such an unfortunate end… We know that here and there, there is some, um… subversion present in the police force. Stolen ration books, help for Jews. No doubt a few of your colleagues, perhaps a small minority, are well rewarded for these services. Nicht wahr?’
‘I don’t know anything about that, Oberscharführer.’
‘Of course not. Not at once. I understand you. This requires an adjustment. Here.’ He taps his forehead with his index finger. ‘But you will get there. And there are compensations. Do you understand me? We keep the identities of many of our so-called Vertrauensmänner strictly confidential. Of course, we would do the same with you. Some of them receive a remuneration. Unfortunately, I cannot offer such to you. But for everything there is a solution. We will work it out. Your friend knows what I am talking about. There are enough possibilities. What you must do is consider, reflect.’
Gregor lights a cigar, flaps the match to extinguish it and blows out a mouthful of smoke.
‘Gut, dass wir… I mean, we have your Aunt Emma… We can greet each other there now and then. Verstehen Sie?’
‘Certainly, Oberscharführer…’
‘See it as a possible investment by us in you. And know that your valued friend will always be there to… sich mit mir kurzschließen. Do you understand that in German?’
‘Yes, as a direct line of contact.’
Gregor blows out a cloud of contented smoke. ‘Again, we understand each other perfectly.’
‘You know what they say about that dirty German?’
‘There are a lot of stories about him, Lode.’
‘Open for business, that’s what it comes down to. I hear about Gregor and a few of his mates—people from here, right, not Jerries—pulling on their black uniforms of a night-time and dropping in on Jews or people they suspect of hiding Jews. Then they yell a bit and demand money or jewels. And afterwards they head for your favourite bar and knock off one bottle of cognac after the other until closing time. True or false? You’d know.’
‘He doesn’t seem the type to me.’
‘You know what else he likes? Household effects. When those rich Jews are kicked out of their houses, everyone’s supposed to keep their hands off the contents. That’s the principle anyway. But when you, like our Gregor, have a good relationship with one of the local removal companies, you’ve got a business opportunity. Who cares about an oak table, an antique bed or a painting on a wall? Out of sight, out of mind. Things get lost so easily. You know where to go if you need an armchair…’
‘Still, there are other advantages. The Oberscharführer thinks I’m one of them. That could protect us.’
‘Your wording’s so careful. You are one of them, aren’t you?’
It takes a couple of seconds before Lode starts laughing. ‘Come on, things are serious enough as it is.’
I laugh along, as usual. Meanwhile I think about Chaim Lizke and wonder how many jewels or diamonds he’s promised Lode and his father. One person recognizes his own small betrayal in the other. I see the harried victims surrendering all their valuables. I see them stripped to their underwear, forced to submit to probing fingers in search of gold and jewels.
‘Money…’ Lode says, inadvertently answering my thoughts, ‘that’s what it comes down to. You can’t tell me they believe all this stuff about the master race and subhumans, blood and soil, pulling those ridiculous faces with one arm stuck in the air, flogging their supposedly knightly ideals like sideshow hucksters while worshipping their great jabbering tash on the radio like he’s some kind of god. All bullshit. It’s very simple. The Jews have got the money and that’s what it’s all about. Organized robbery, that’s what it is.’
It all sounds watertight, but I’m in constant doubt, sometimes telling myself I don’t have a clue what’s going on in this city. Does money really explain everything? Isn’t that rather naive? Lode’s rant, which seems to have come out of nowhere, sounds like the accusations an adolescent spends a long time rehearsing in his head before levelling them at his