Read Online Zoo Station by David Downing - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Downing
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Americans, Historical, Mystery & Detective, Espionage, Mystery, Germany, Fiction - Mystery, Journalists, Mystery & Detective - General, Berlin, spies, spy stories, Journalists - Germany - Berlin, Recruiting, Germany - History - 1933-1945, Americans - Germany - Berlin, Spies - Recruiting
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unbuttoning his overcoat. Hed been running the family paper business since his and Ilses father had died a few years earlier. Its getting harder to find experienced staff, but other than that. . . . He shrugged. Theres no lack of orders. How about you?
Not too bad. Ive got the opening of the new Chancellery tomorrow, and there should be a decent piece in thatthe Americans like that sort of thing.
Well thats good. How about Danzig? Did you get anything there?
Not really. Russell explained about the stamp wars.
Thomas rolled his eyes in frustration. Like children, he muttered. Speaking of which, Joachims been called up for his arbeitsdienst.
When?
The beginning of March.
Russell looked up at Joachim, engrossed in his magazine. Ah, he said, glad that Paul was still six years away from the year of drilling, draining swamps, and digging roads which the Nazis imposed on all seventeen-year-old boys. How does he feel about it?
Oh, he cant wait, Thomas said, glancing affectionately up at his son. I suppose it cant do him any harm. Unlike whatll probably follow.
Russell knew what he meant. When theyd first become friends over ten years ago, he and Thomas had talked a lot about their experiences in the war. Both had friends whod survived the war in body, yet never recovered their peace of mind. And both knew that they themselves had been changed in ways that they would never fully understand. And that they had been the lucky ones.
Happy days, Russell murmured, and then laughed. We had a run-in with the SS last night, he said, and told Thomas the story.
He wasnt as amused as Russell expected. Shell go too far one of these days. The fragebogen s just a piece of paper, after all. One day theyll take her in, tear it up, and the next thing you know her parents will be getting a bill for her burial. He shook his head. Being right doesnt count anymore.
I know, Russell said. She knows. But she does it so well.
A chorus of catcalls erupted around them: Viktoria Berlin were on their way out. As the two men got to their feet, Hertha emerged to a more affectionate welcome. Casting his eyes over the towering grandstand and the high crowded terraces behind each goal, Russell felt the usual surge of excitement. Glancing to his left, he saw that Pauls eyes mirrored his own.
The first half was all Hertha, but Viktoria scored the only goal on a breakaway just before the interval. Joachim seethed with indignation, while Paul yo-yoed between hope and anxiety. Thomas smoked two cigarettes.
The second half followed the same pattern, and there were only ten minutes left when Herthas inside-left was tripped in the penalty area. He took the penalty himself. The ball hit both posts before going in, leaving the crowd in hysterics. A minute from time, with evening falling and the light abruptly fading, Herthas center-forward raced onto a long bouncing ball and volleyed it home from almost thirty yards. The Viktoria goalkeeper hadnt moved. As the stadium exploded with joy he just stood there, making angry gestures at his teammates, the referee, the rest of the world.
Paul was ecstatic. Eyes shining, he joined in the chant now echoing round the arena: Ha! Ho! He! Hertha BSC! Ha! Ho! He! Hertha BSC!
For an eleven-year-old, Russell thought fondly, this was as good as it got.
IT WAS DARK BY the time he dropped Paul off. He took a 76 back into town, ate supper at a beer restaurant just off the Potsdamerplatz, and walked the last kilometer home. Reaching his street, he noticed what looked like the same empty car parked across from his apartment block. He was on his way to investigate it when he heard the scream.
It was no ordinary scream. It was loud and lingering, and it somehow managed to encompass surprise, terror, and appalling pain. For a brief instant, Russell was back in the trenches, listening to someone whod just lost a limb to a shell.
It came from further down the street.
He hesitated, but only long enough for his brain
Not too bad. Ive got the opening of the new Chancellery tomorrow, and there should be a decent piece in thatthe Americans like that sort of thing.
Well thats good. How about Danzig? Did you get anything there?
Not really. Russell explained about the stamp wars.
Thomas rolled his eyes in frustration. Like children, he muttered. Speaking of which, Joachims been called up for his arbeitsdienst.
When?
The beginning of March.
Russell looked up at Joachim, engrossed in his magazine. Ah, he said, glad that Paul was still six years away from the year of drilling, draining swamps, and digging roads which the Nazis imposed on all seventeen-year-old boys. How does he feel about it?
Oh, he cant wait, Thomas said, glancing affectionately up at his son. I suppose it cant do him any harm. Unlike whatll probably follow.
Russell knew what he meant. When theyd first become friends over ten years ago, he and Thomas had talked a lot about their experiences in the war. Both had friends whod survived the war in body, yet never recovered their peace of mind. And both knew that they themselves had been changed in ways that they would never fully understand. And that they had been the lucky ones.
Happy days, Russell murmured, and then laughed. We had a run-in with the SS last night, he said, and told Thomas the story.
He wasnt as amused as Russell expected. Shell go too far one of these days. The fragebogen s just a piece of paper, after all. One day theyll take her in, tear it up, and the next thing you know her parents will be getting a bill for her burial. He shook his head. Being right doesnt count anymore.
I know, Russell said. She knows. But she does it so well.
A chorus of catcalls erupted around them: Viktoria Berlin were on their way out. As the two men got to their feet, Hertha emerged to a more affectionate welcome. Casting his eyes over the towering grandstand and the high crowded terraces behind each goal, Russell felt the usual surge of excitement. Glancing to his left, he saw that Pauls eyes mirrored his own.
The first half was all Hertha, but Viktoria scored the only goal on a breakaway just before the interval. Joachim seethed with indignation, while Paul yo-yoed between hope and anxiety. Thomas smoked two cigarettes.
The second half followed the same pattern, and there were only ten minutes left when Herthas inside-left was tripped in the penalty area. He took the penalty himself. The ball hit both posts before going in, leaving the crowd in hysterics. A minute from time, with evening falling and the light abruptly fading, Herthas center-forward raced onto a long bouncing ball and volleyed it home from almost thirty yards. The Viktoria goalkeeper hadnt moved. As the stadium exploded with joy he just stood there, making angry gestures at his teammates, the referee, the rest of the world.
Paul was ecstatic. Eyes shining, he joined in the chant now echoing round the arena: Ha! Ho! He! Hertha BSC! Ha! Ho! He! Hertha BSC!
For an eleven-year-old, Russell thought fondly, this was as good as it got.
IT WAS DARK BY the time he dropped Paul off. He took a 76 back into town, ate supper at a beer restaurant just off the Potsdamerplatz, and walked the last kilometer home. Reaching his street, he noticed what looked like the same empty car parked across from his apartment block. He was on his way to investigate it when he heard the scream.
It was no ordinary scream. It was loud and lingering, and it somehow managed to encompass surprise, terror, and appalling pain. For a brief instant, Russell was back in the trenches, listening to someone whod just lost a limb to a shell.
It came from further down the street.
He hesitated, but only long enough for his brain
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