Searching for Wallenberg by Alan Lelchuk Read Free Book Online Page A

government wishes to do, we will respect that wish, but not push them in any way, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    “Will it look … odd? Or cold-blooded?”
    “Oh, I think it will look patriotic , first and foremost. Our family and Enskilda Bank have always sought to look like, and act like, true Swedish patriots.”
    A pause, while the grandfather clock ticked loudly.
    “Poor fellow, though—Soviet prisons are not exactly a tea party.”
    “He brought it all on himself. The kind of headstrong and stubborn fellow he was, and remained. Helping Jews! Imagine! Why? What business was it of his anyway?”
    “Well,” Marcus considered, “his side of the family did have some Jewish blood, ages ago, before the conversion. And his aim may have been … idealistic.”
    “In our day and age,” Jacob declared, “there is only room for aims that are realistic, determinedly realistic.”
    “Come, let us take our drinks in to dinner, and not let the ladies complain of our usual lateness.”
    The two gentlemen stood up.

    Gellerman stopped, leaned back, read his pages. Too exaggerated? A convenient scene? Was there enough evidence to support this psychological picture, this 1945–46 “situation” of these tough Wallenbergs scheming for their self-protection and abandoning Raoul? Well, yes, there was, and if some of it was only circumstantial as yet, it was strongly circumstantial. Verify, only verify, Moritz Schlick had said, in Manny’s college reading. He recalled the aphoristic wisdom of the Austrian philosopher. Not an easy task, he told himself. Would he need Stockholm, Budapest, Moscow, to fill in the gaps, test his ideas? Or would Google do the job—well, fill in parts at least? … His imagination would do the rest.
    He looked out at the Japanese crabapple tree, whose pink May blossoms made the month burst with delicate beauty.
    Why was he getting involved this way, drawn in to Raoul’s ordeal and mysteries? The thesis may have sharpened Manny’s probe, and the surprising hidden memories unfolded to enhance the interest, true enough; and yet, was there more? Something deeper, which he didn’t know of? Was there something about Raoul and his situation(s), his outsider status, his sense of family exile, his apparent aloneness, that appealed especially to Manny? Well, he’d have to wait and see it through, work it through, and then understand, judge. Wallenberg was a personal conundrum wrapped in a mystery of history, which in itself drew in Manny the historian.
    “Wallenberg and Gellerman,” he murmured to himself. “What a strange pairing.”

CHAPTER 3
    The next day Manny played tennis at the indoor courts with his regular partner, Peter Harrison of the English department. They were a good match: roughly the same age of mid- sixties, the same sturdy five-foot-eight build, and had the same hearty stamina and competitive desire. Peter was a steady player, a crafty southpaw, and the two battled to a close match for an hour. Manny loved the sport, which he’d learned relatively late in life at age twenty-nine, and continued to absorb new aspects of strategy. Against this player, for example, he had to cope with high lobs from his backhand side, to his own backhand, and he had two choices: either to hit the ball with his weak backhand or to run around it and smash it with his stronger forehand, either cross-court, or down the line. Today the tendonitis in his forearm felt well enough to hit through, so Manny ran around the lob for his firm forehand hits and did well. They played a 6–6 set, and then ran to 8–6 in the tiebreaker, with Manny losing. They shook hands, chatted, arranged another match, and showered. Afterward, Peter asked what he was working on, and Manny found himself answering, “Oh, I think I’m onto a new project, something over in East Europe, but it’s a little too early to talk about it just yet.”
    In a few minutes he was driving over to the college, body relaxed, spirit lifted—as