Read Online Flotsam by Erich Maria Remarque - Free Book Online
Authors: Erich Maria Remarque
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that’s ordered here.”
“All right. Then bring me the cognac in a coffee cup.”
The waiter brought the cognac and remained standing by the table. “What’s the matter?” Steiner asked. “Do you want to watch me drink it?”
“You have to pay in advance. That’s the rule here. Otherwise we’d go bankrupt.”
“If that’s the rule, here you are.” Steiner paid.
“That’s too much,” the waiter said.
“The change is your tip.”
“Tip?” The waiter rolled the word on his tongue. “My God,” he said with emotion, “that’s the first one in years! Thank you, sir. That makes a fellow feel like a man again!”
A few minutes later the Russian came in. He saw Steiner immediately and sat down with him.
“I was beginning to think you’d left Vienna, Tschernikoff.”
The Russian laughed. “With us the probable is always the improbable. I found out everything you wanted to know.”
Steiner emptied his glass. “Can you get papers?”
“Yes. Even very good ones. The best forgery I have seen in years.”
“I’ve got to get out of the country,” Steiner said. “I’ve got to have papers. I’d rather run the risk of a penitentiary with a false passport than stand this constant anxiety and these trips to the lock-up. What have you seen?”
“I was in the Hellebarde Café. That’s where the people do business now. They are the same ones as seven years ago. Reliable enough in their way. To be sure the cheapest papers cost four hundred schillings.”
“What can you get for that?”
“The passport of a dead Austrian. Good for one year more.”
“One year. And then?”
Tschernikoff looked at Steiner. “Abroad it might be extended. Or a skillful hand could alter the date.”
Steiner nodded.
“Besides, there are two passports that belong to dead German refugees. But they cost eight hundred schillings apiece. Completely forged ones are not to be had under fifteen hundred. I wouldn’t recommend them to you anyway.”
Tschernikoff tapped the ash off his cigarette. “For the time being there’s nothing to be expected from the League of Nations in your case. For those who have come into the country illegally without a passport, nothing at all. Nansen is dead; he was the one who got our passports for us.”
“Four hundred schillings?” Steiner said. “I have twenty-five.”
“You’ll be able to beat them down a little. To three hundred and fifty, I’d say.”
“Compared to twenty-five it’s all the same. But that doesn’t make any difference; I’ll see to it that I get the money. Where is the Hellebarde?”
The Russian drew a slip of paper out of his pocket. “Here is the address. Also the name of the waiter who acts as go-between. He calls the people up when you tell him to. He gets five schillings for doing it.”
“Fine. I’ll see how I make out.” Steiner put the slip away carefully. “A thousand thanks for taking so much trouble, Tschernikoff.”
“Not at all,” the Russian waved away the thanks. “One does what one can when there’s a chance. You never know when you’ll be in the same fix yourself.”
“Yes.” Steiner stood up. “I’ll look you up again here and tell you how it comes out.”
“Fine. I’m often here about this time. I play chess with the South German master. The man over there with the earlocks. Never thought in normal times that I’d have the good fortune to play with an expert like that.” Tschernikoff smiled. “Chess is a passion of mine.”
Steiner nodded to him. Then stepping over a few young people who were lying asleep with open mouths along the wall, he went to the door. At Circuit Judge Epstein’s table sat a pudgy Jewess. Epstein was lecturing unctuously and she sat with folded hands staring at him as though at an unreliable god. In front of her on the table lay fifty groschen. Epstein’s hairy left hand lay close beside them like a great spider in wait.
Outside Steiner took a deep breath. The soft night air seemed like
“All right. Then bring me the cognac in a coffee cup.”
The waiter brought the cognac and remained standing by the table. “What’s the matter?” Steiner asked. “Do you want to watch me drink it?”
“You have to pay in advance. That’s the rule here. Otherwise we’d go bankrupt.”
“If that’s the rule, here you are.” Steiner paid.
“That’s too much,” the waiter said.
“The change is your tip.”
“Tip?” The waiter rolled the word on his tongue. “My God,” he said with emotion, “that’s the first one in years! Thank you, sir. That makes a fellow feel like a man again!”
A few minutes later the Russian came in. He saw Steiner immediately and sat down with him.
“I was beginning to think you’d left Vienna, Tschernikoff.”
The Russian laughed. “With us the probable is always the improbable. I found out everything you wanted to know.”
Steiner emptied his glass. “Can you get papers?”
“Yes. Even very good ones. The best forgery I have seen in years.”
“I’ve got to get out of the country,” Steiner said. “I’ve got to have papers. I’d rather run the risk of a penitentiary with a false passport than stand this constant anxiety and these trips to the lock-up. What have you seen?”
“I was in the Hellebarde Café. That’s where the people do business now. They are the same ones as seven years ago. Reliable enough in their way. To be sure the cheapest papers cost four hundred schillings.”
“What can you get for that?”
“The passport of a dead Austrian. Good for one year more.”
“One year. And then?”
Tschernikoff looked at Steiner. “Abroad it might be extended. Or a skillful hand could alter the date.”
Steiner nodded.
“Besides, there are two passports that belong to dead German refugees. But they cost eight hundred schillings apiece. Completely forged ones are not to be had under fifteen hundred. I wouldn’t recommend them to you anyway.”
Tschernikoff tapped the ash off his cigarette. “For the time being there’s nothing to be expected from the League of Nations in your case. For those who have come into the country illegally without a passport, nothing at all. Nansen is dead; he was the one who got our passports for us.”
“Four hundred schillings?” Steiner said. “I have twenty-five.”
“You’ll be able to beat them down a little. To three hundred and fifty, I’d say.”
“Compared to twenty-five it’s all the same. But that doesn’t make any difference; I’ll see to it that I get the money. Where is the Hellebarde?”
The Russian drew a slip of paper out of his pocket. “Here is the address. Also the name of the waiter who acts as go-between. He calls the people up when you tell him to. He gets five schillings for doing it.”
“Fine. I’ll see how I make out.” Steiner put the slip away carefully. “A thousand thanks for taking so much trouble, Tschernikoff.”
“Not at all,” the Russian waved away the thanks. “One does what one can when there’s a chance. You never know when you’ll be in the same fix yourself.”
“Yes.” Steiner stood up. “I’ll look you up again here and tell you how it comes out.”
“Fine. I’m often here about this time. I play chess with the South German master. The man over there with the earlocks. Never thought in normal times that I’d have the good fortune to play with an expert like that.” Tschernikoff smiled. “Chess is a passion of mine.”
Steiner nodded to him. Then stepping over a few young people who were lying asleep with open mouths along the wall, he went to the door. At Circuit Judge Epstein’s table sat a pudgy Jewess. Epstein was lecturing unctuously and she sat with folded hands staring at him as though at an unreliable god. In front of her on the table lay fifty groschen. Epstein’s hairy left hand lay close beside them like a great spider in wait.
Outside Steiner took a deep breath. The soft night air seemed like
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