Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [268]
Chapter Twenty
“HOW THE DEVIL DID you get here?” Sean asked.
“Lil Blessing drove me over,” Ernestine said. “Well ... do you ask me in?”
Sean held the door of his flat open, awkwardly.
“So this is your sanctum.” It was a lovely flat, of course. The occupation forces took the best. “Well, aren’t you glad to see me?”
“I wasn’t prepared for an invasion.”
“Look,” she said, reaching into a shopping bag like those carried by all Berlin women. She produced two steaks.
“Where the hell did you get those?”
“Black market.”
“You, in particular, with your uncle’s name should never go to the black market,” he lectured.
“Oh, stop it, Sean. Lil Blessing gave them to me. She said I could find my way to your heart with these, but you don’t have one.”
“Ernestine Falkenstein, look at me. I said, look at me. Are you tipsy?”
“Poo-poo-poo.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“Poo-poo-poo. Just enough to have the courage to storm into your fortress.”
Sean knew he must relent or he would have a bawling female on his hands. “Okay, there’s the kitchen. Get busy. I’m starved.”
Ernestine heaved a sigh of dismay. “Oh dear, I thought you would say that. Oh Sean, I studied so hard to be a lawyer I just never learned to cook. I’ll just ruin the steaks and you’ll never see me again.”
“Well now, didn’t you and your great friend Lil Blessing prepare for such a contingency?”
“You might just offer me a drink, you know.”
He found the mildest liquor in the cabinet, sherry. She sipped, breathed contentedly, set the glass down. “I made reservations for us at Humperdink’s. It is a fine restaurant, even though it happens to be in the Russian Sector. Uncle and I eat there often. Franz said he would personally attend to the steaks.”
“You’ve got yourself a date. Stay away from the booze and I’ll make myself dashing.”
As he left the room, Ernestine walked to his desk and looked at the pictures of his brothers and his father.
Humperdink’s, about the only building on Gernerstrasse not flattened, was a large house converted into one big room broken into paneled booths. The walls and crannies held boar and stag heads, beer mugs from the Middle Ages, Dresden figurines, and tapestries.
Lothar, an elderly blind man, played the zither at the entrance of the candlelit room. Actually his name was not Lothar, nor was he blind. As a former SS officer, the disguise proved excellent to keep him out of the hands of the justice seekers.
“Herr Oberst,” Franz said bowing profusely again and again. “An honor, sir.”
He took the steaks, swore to do them justice, escorted the two to a choice booth already enhanced with the presence of a bottle of chilled champagne. The room was warm and sentimental. Ernestine sipped, then sang to the zither melody. Sean, she thought to herself, have you grown tired of me before you even let yourself know me? Oh, you lion among men. It was growing painful now and she knew she could not show him. She longed to say, “Ich liebe dich.”
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Nothing in particular.”
Franz ushered three German couples to a large table in the center of the floor. She recognized her brother Gerd among them.
“Oh dear,” she said, “I wanted tonight to be perfect. My brother has just come in and can be quite unpleasant.”
Sean smiled. “I will be the epitome of restraint and charm,” he promised.
Gerd nodded to Ernestine and she to him. He excused himself from his table and made his way to their booth. Sean arose.
“Hello, Erna.”
“Gerd. Colonel O’Sullivan, my brother Gerd.”
Sean shook his hand and asked him to have a seat.
“Only for a moment,” Gerd protested. “My partners and our friends are having a small celebration.”
Gerd’s inference was plain to Ernestine. He was saying, see, Germans also can enjoy Humperdink’s and there are still decent German girls left who prefer the company of German men.
On the other hand, Gerd could not say he was unhappy that his sister was in the company of a known Ami officer. He felt strongly that Germany’s future lay in alliance with the Amis and what