The Dark Arena - Mario Puzo [48]
Gordon lowered his head to stare at the floor. Wolf said kindly, “Hell, you expected it, didn't you, Gordon?”
Gordon raised his head and smiled slowly. “I guess so,” he said. “Thanks, Wolf.” He went out the door.
Eddie said quietly to Wolf, “That security check came back from the States?”
“Yeah,” Wolf said.
Eddie Cassin began to clear off his desk. Twilight darkened the windows of the personnel office. He opened his briefcase and filled it with two bottles of gin, a large tin of grapefruit juice, and some chocolate bars he took from a desk drawer.
Wolf said, “Why don't you give me your cigarettes and booze, Eddie? You'll wind up with money in the bank instead of a dose.”
Eddie put the briefcase under his arm and went to the door. “I'm living,” he said. “Wish you scavengers luck. Fm off to tame a gorilla.”
During supper Wolf said to Mosca, “You know, I must have been the first to spot Gordon. I gave him a lift to town one day and on the road he told me to stop. He got out of the jeep and walked back. Then he picks up a jagged hunk of metal that my wheel had just missed. He throws it off into the bushes and says with that nice, quiet smile, a little embarrassed, ‘Save a guy a flat tire.’ Now, you say that's a nice thing to do, and sure Gordon is a nice guy. But thafs going to a little too much trouble. He puts himself out too much. So when my boss told me he had to keep an eye out for Gordon because he was a Party member I wasn't surprised. They eat up guys like that Poor stupid bastard.”
Mosca lit up a cigar and took a sip of coffee. “He's got balls,” he said.
Wolf swallowed the food in his mouth. ‘Wrong attitude. Use your head now. How many times a day do we get Germans that want to join our Army? They want to fight the Russians. How many times there been rumors Russian troops invaded the British and American sectors? I see the “secret reports. It won't be long now, I give it two years before everything blows up. So guys like Gordon have to get the ax. Right here.” He made a chopping motion at his throat. “And me I'm going back to the States. I won't wear that PW in Siberia.”
Mosca said slowly, “I hope I can get out of here before then.”
Wolf wiped his mouth and leaned back to let a waiter pour coffee. “Don't worry,” he said. “I got some inside dope they have to lift the marriage ban so we cm make honest dames out of the FrUuleins. Lots of pressure from the churches back home. Don't want anybody screwing dames without a fighting chance of getting hooked.”
They left the mess hall and went out to Wolfs jeep. Outside the wire f ence of the air base they took the turn in the road that led away from town and to a far end of the Neustadt. It was only a short ride, and Wolf pulled up in front of an isolated house that was extraordinarily narrow, as if it consisted of one strict line of rooms from front to back. There were three other jeeps parked near by, a few German Opel cars with wood-burning motors and tin smokestacks. Some bicycles were chained to an iron bar cemented into the stone steps.
Wolf rang the bell, and when the door opened Mosca was startled. The tallest and largest German he had ever sera stood before them. “We have an appointment with Frau Vlavern,” Wolf said. The giant stood aside to let them enter.
The room was almost full. Two GIs sat close together with a stuffed green duffel bag between them. There were three officers, each of them with a bulging briefcase of shiny pigskin. There were five Germans with empty flaccid briefcases of black leather. They all waited patiently; everyone went in turn, Germans and Americans alike. There were no conquerors here.
The giant took them one by one into the next room and also took care of the door as more officers and GIs and Germans arrived. Some Mosca recognized as base personnel, crew chiefs, a mess sergeant, the PX officer. All acted as if they did not know each other