Stardust (47 page)

His eyes still wouldn’t open, just slits taking in gray outlines, the man bending forward to secure his grip. In the movies, Ben would leap up now in a violent struggle, but instead he’d become an animal, prey being dragged to the feeding place. He still couldn’t find his hands. No time left. Then the man’s grip slipped, Ben’s head falling again, and as the man reached to grab him, a better angle, Ben turned his head, a move of pure instinct, the effort dizzying, and opened his mouth, teeth connecting with flesh, biting hard on the man’s ankle. The howl must have been more surprise than pain, something dead come back to life, but it startled Ben’s eyes open, the world fuzzy but there, and as the man jerked his foot away, Ben’s hands came up, back now, too, and he held the leg and bit again, the man staggering as he tried to pull it away, no longer pitched forward toward Ben’s shoulders, his hands springing back, grabbing onto the French window, then using the other foot to kick, crunching Ben’s chest, lunging for him again. There was a shout from somewhere, enough to make the man hesitate for a second before he hammered his fist into Ben’s back, a squashing slam that forced Ben’s face tighter against his leg, making the man twist free, away from the window now, the fulcrum of his weight flung backward so that Ben felt the pull of the leg moving and let it go, feeling it hit his face then flying free, following the body, turning as the man reached for the rail, then kept going, into the loud scream that filled the alley, the noise Danny hadn’t made, and then was swallowed up by the crash, lids clanging, cans rolling away from the impact of the body. Ben grabbed the balcony edge and pulled himself up, just enough to look over, to see the police photos again, the pool of blood spreading from the man’s head, but in color this time, dark red, the body splayed out at odd angles, the chalk mark outline where Ben was supposed to have been. He stared at it for a second, nobody he recognized, then heard a window open, a gasp, more windows, the faint sound of a radio, the desk clerk rushing out and looking up at Ben holding on to his balcony, the loop Ben already knew. Soon the ambulance, the crime scene photographers, maybe even Riordan
losing himself in the crowd. He lowered his head from the railing, putting his hands in front of him to get up, but couldn’t move, falling instead down an elevator shaft until it was dark again.

T
HE BANDAGE
woke him, an unfamiliar weight on his head. The room was all white, which made him smile, a white telephone set, then he remembered the alley. Liesl was standing looking out the window, her back to him, and the loop started running again, Danny’s hospital room, this time Ben in the bed. But not dying, everything in focus, the fuzziness gone.

“Is this Presbyterian?” he said, surprised at the croak in his voice.

She whirled around and stared at him, then shook her head, her eyes filling with relief, caught in the same loop.

“Where?”

“Community. On Vine.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Most of the day. It’s almost four.”

“You’ve been here?” He touched the bandage at the back of his head, then the adhesive tape across the bridge of his nose. A dull throb in his chest. “What else?”

“It’s enough. Head trauma—” She looked away.

“It’s not the same. Not five stories.”

“You still might have died,” she said, still not facing him, then turned and came over, brushing her hand against his forehead.

“How about—whoever it was. Is he dead?”

She nodded.

“Any idea who?”

“Some
Schläger
. Kelly knows.”

“Kelly?”

“He’s here. Outside. He won’t go until he sees you. First.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve been
out
. You should see the doctor first.”

“No, I want to know.” He grabbed her wrist. “I’m fine. It’s the kind of thing you know about yourself, if something’s wrong.”

Kelly came in tentatively, the usual jauntiness left outside. “Can you talk?”

“You doing a story? ‘I didn’t know what hit me.’ Pretty lame, except I didn’t. Make something up, I don’t care. The police out there with you?”

Kelly shook his head. “They want a statement, when you’re ready. Dot the i’s. They already took the witness’s.”

“Who?”

“Guy next door saw him punch you, try to throw you off. Day clerk thought he was in the building. Guy comes in, goes to the mailboxes, so the clerk figures he lives there. Of course, if he’d known it was Ray—”

“Who’s Ray?”

“The guy. Hired hand. If you need something done. People do, so he and the cops go way back. That’s why, when they saw it was him, you didn’t have to draw a map. He used to run with the
pachucos,
his mother’s a Mex. Then I guess he decided to put it to work, go freelance. He’s already been in once for armed robbery.”

“That’s what they think this is?”

“I have to tell you, don’t take this wrong, when I got the call the first thing I thought—I mean, same place.”

“Monkey see. Maybe a better story.”

“Don’t be like that. It’s what anybody would—”

“If I’d been the one who went over? I know. That’s what he wanted you to think.”

“Who? What are you saying?”

“Whoever paid—what was it, Ray?” He looked at Kelly. “Want something better than robbery? First of all, there’s nothing to steal,” he said, feeling Ray’s hands in his pocket again, not something for Kelly. “The door wasn’t forced. I had to open it with a key. But he was already in.”

“Door’s not a problem for guys like that.”

“Especially if they have a key.”

Kelly looked at him, waiting.

“You know, I never saw his face. He hit me from behind. All he had to do was walk away. If he wanted to kill me, a few more head taps would have done it. So why go through all the trouble? Lugging me out there. Maybe so you’d say, ‘the first thing I thought.’ Anybody would. They’d think I’d been planning to do it.”

“But how would he know?”

“Well, Kelly, how would he?”

“You think he did your brother?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Find out who paid him. But that’s how Danny was killed. I know it. For a few minutes there, I was him. Don’t worry,” he said, touching the head bandage, “I’m not going spooky on you. I just saw how it had to be. Find out who paid him. Work it from that side. Is he the kind who brags? Maybe there’s a girl. He get the money yet?”

“You’re so sure about this.”

“Fine, do it as a robbery. Maybe you get a column. The double jump would have been better, but I screwed that up for you. But a murder? Two? That the police never saw? Exclusive? That’s a ticket up.” He looked directly at him. “No more moonlighting.”

Kelly said nothing for a minute.

“Why don’t the police see it?” he said, biting.

“Because they’re traffic cops. And they like robbery. Come on, Kelly, nobody was supposed to see it. Ask around. Who paid him?”

Kelly picked up his hat to go. “And the
pachucos
will tell me. Swell.”

“It’s a bigger story.”

Kelly looked at him, a small, ironic smile. “Any studio connection?”

After he’d gone, Liesl moved to the chair next to the bed. “Did you really think that? That you were Daniel?”

“I just saw how it made sense.”

“Imagine if you could do that. Know what somebody was thinking. He could tell you—well.”

“But I know what he’d do. Maybe it took a knock on the head, but it’s clear now.”

He began throwing back the covers.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to get out of here.”

“Don’t be—”

“Listen to me. Heinrich’s in trouble. There isn’t much time.”

“Trouble?”

“I’ll explain later. Where did they put my clothes? Help me, Liesl. I’m all right. See?” he said, getting out of bed and standing. “Not even dizzy.”

But then he was, weaving slightly, putting his hand on the bed to steady himself.

“Get back into bed,” she said, taking his elbow.

“It’s my fault, understand? My fault. I have to help.” He took a breath, exhaled. “There. I just got winded for a second.” He looked down at the adhesive tape on his lower chest. “The rib makes it hard to breathe, that’s all. Here, help me with this shirt.”

“You can’t just walk out. The doctor has to release you.”

“What would Danny have done? Would he have waited?”

She looked at him. “That was different.”

He walked over to the closet, Liesl trailing him.

“We can’t go back to the Cherokee, the cops’ll still be there, so we’ll have to use your car. My wallet’s here. I can use my military ID, they’re not going to say no to that. He’ll need his passport, though.”

“Passport? What are you talking about?”

He took her arm. “I have to get him out. I can do it. But I need you to help me.”

“Get him out,” she said, looking at his head.

“I’m all right. I’m not crazy.”

“No, excited,” she said quietly, looking at him.

“Drop me at the house. Then you go to Heinrich’s alone, in case anybody’s watching,” he said, pulling on his pants.

“Why would anyone be watching?” she said nervously.

“Don’t pack. His landlady sees a suitcase, she’ll start—but anything he really wants. Take a grocery bag, so it looks like stuff for dinner. And the passport, don’t forget. I’ll explain everything to him when you get
back. If he doesn’t want to, fine, we give him dinner and drive him home. But he will.”

“With a grocery bag,” she said. “Like a knapsack. And then what? We cross the mountain?”

“No,” he said, buttoning his shirt, too busy to hear her tone. “I get him to Mexico.”

“Mexico.”

“It’s just a drive.” Why the movie people came in the first place, dodging Edison’s patents, sun, and a convenient border. According to Sol anyway. “Where’s my hat? I’m going to need a hat to cover this,” he said, fingering the bandage. “Your father’s in touch with the Germans there. Some of them will know Heinrich. He’ll need help. How much cash do you keep at home?”

“Some. It’s something you learn, in case.”

“Okay, shoes.” He stood up.

“Stop. A minute. Listen to me. You’re in no condition to drive. You’ll both be killed and then what?”

“I have to.”

“Oh, have to. So pigheaded. Just like—” She stopped, looking away. “It’s serious? His trouble?”

He nodded.

“All right, I’ll drive. Don’t,” she said, holding up a hand. “Anyway, it’s my car.”

“You’re sure?” he said, pleased, as if he were extending a hand.

She shrugged, a pretend indifference. “You can’t go alone. It’s breaking the law?”

“Not yet. In a few days it would, but he’ll be gone.”

“Over the border,” she said. “I thought it was finished, all that business.”

K
ALTENBACH GRASPED
the situation right away. Ben had expected indecision, an arguing back and forth, but the urgency had jolted him
into an oddly calm self-assurance, all his usual dithering put away like bits of stage business.

“A political trial,” he said. “Now here.”

“No, it’s a hearing. Closed at first. It’s not the Nazis,” Ben said. “It would be a mistake to think that. To decide that way. It’s not camps or—”

“But a political trial all the same,” Kaltenbach said evenly. “I know what it means.”

“There’s no danger to you. You’re not being charged with anything. Not even being a Communist.”

“Just politically unreliable. So no work at the studios.”

“You’re not working there now,” Ostermann said. They were drinking coffee near the end of the pool terrace, the city below, lights coming on in the dusk.

“No, not for a long time,” Kaltenbach said. “Now longer.”

“I want you to understand,” Ben said. “If you leave, you won’t be able to come back. They’d make sure of that.”

“It’s not like before,” Ostermann said. “What choice did we have? Now there’s a choice. You can’t take this lightly.”

“That’s why you came over? To talk me out of it?”

“No. I talked to Anna in Mexico City. Seghers, you remember. It’s not easy to make a call there. An hour to get through. But I thought she would know somebody. Or somebody who—so, here’s an address in Tijuana. Who can help with arrangements. I said you’d be there tomorrow. If you go.”

“No, tonight,” Kaltenbach said firmly.

“Then I came to say good-bye,” Ostermann said. “If you’re sure.”

Kaltenbach turned away, too emotional to face him. “Look at it,” he said, nodding to the city. “A mirage. Maybe it’s the palm trees that suggest it. But sometimes I think there’s nothing really there. Blink—just sand again. Was I here? You and Dieter, all milk and honey, blue skies. But I wonder, even for you.”

“Almost ready?” Liesl said, coming out of the house. She had
changed into cream-colored slacks and a blouse, resort wear. “Was it big enough?” She pointed to one of Danny’s old suitcases, now filled with Heinrich’s few changes of clothes.

Kaltenbach turned back to Ostermann. “I know it’s different there now.” He held his gaze for a second, a silent conversation, then stuck out his hand. “So good-bye, my friend.”

But Ostermann, tearing up, took him in his arms, a fierce hug, and Ben saw in his posture that he had done it before, one more leave-taking. When he finally pulled away, he took some money out of his pocket. “Here.”

“No,” Kaltenbach said, covering his hand.

“You’ll need it.”

Kaltenbach shook his head. “But Frau Schneider, my landlady. There’s rent owing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Keep my good name,” he said, smiling sadly. “I’ll pay you back.” A ritual phrase.

Ostermann took one of the bills from his hand. “Here. For cake at the Romanische.”

Kaltenbach took the money. “
Mohnkuchen
. Like nowhere else.” He touched Ostermann on the shoulder, starting to turn away, then stopped and looked at him again. “If you read that I’ve said something—something, you know, that doesn’t sound—you’ll know it’s not me, yes? You’ll remember that?”

“Of course.”

“Even if my name is attached. I may have to— But you know the books. They can’t change those. The rest, don’t listen. Just the books.”

“We should go,” Liesl said. “They look all right,” she said to Ben, now in Danny’s borrowed clothes. “How do you feel?”