The Good German by Joseph Kanon Read Free Book Online Page A

again, back on familiar ground. “Well, that’s what every department says. But you know, we can’t do everything.” He indicated the organization chart. “Sometimes I think we let our good intentions run away with us.” He put his hand on Bernie’s shoulder, an uncle giving advice. “We can’t put a whole country on trial.”
    “No, just the guilty ones,” Bernie said, looking at him steadily.
    Breimer dropped his hand, the easy get-away lost. “That’s right, just the guilty ones.” He looked back at Bernie. “We don’t want to start some kind of inquisition over here. The American people don’t want that.”
    “Really? What do we want?” Bernie said, using the pronoun as a jab.
    <>Breimer stepped back. “I think we all want the same thing,” he said evenly “To get this country going again. That’s the important thing now. You can’t do that by locking everybody up. The worst cases, yes. Get the big boys and put them on trial—I’m all for it. But then we’ve got to move on, not chase all the small fry.” He paused, avuncular again. “We don’t want people to think a minority is using this program to get revenge.” He shook his head. “We don’t want that.” The voice of the Kiwanis Club lunch, bland and sure of itself. In the awkward silence, Jake could feel Tommy shift in his chair, leaning forward to see Bernie’s response.
    “We’re an even smaller minority here,” Bernie said calmly. “Most of us are dead.”
    “I didn’t mean you personally, of course.”
    “Just all the other Jews in the program. But we speak the language, some of us—one of life’s little ironies—so you’re stuck with us. I was born here. If my parents hadn’t left in ‘thirty-three, I’d be dead too. Personally. So I think this is a priority.” He touched the pile of papers on the table. “I’m sorry if it interferes with economic recovery. As far as I’m concerned, you can file that under T for ’too bad.‘ I’m a DA back home, that’s why they tapped me for this. DAs don’t get revenge. Half the time, we’re lucky to get a little justice.”
    Breimer, who had turned red during this, sputtered, “I didn’t mean—”
    “Save it. I know what you mean. I don’t want to join your country club anyway. Just send me more staff and we’ll call it quits.” He pulled the chair beneath him and sat down, cocking his head toward the door. “I think your driver’s waiting.”
    Breimer stood still for a moment, furious, then visibly collected himself and nodded to the quiet table. “Gentlemen.” He looked down at Bernie. “We’ll talk tomorrow, captain. I hope I’ll be better understood.”
    The entire table watched him go. Jake looked around, waiting for someone to speak, feeling the room grow warmer, as if the quiet were letting in the sticky night air. Finally Muller, staring at his glass, said dryly, “He’s here to learn.”
    Tommy smiled at him and lit a cigarette. “I wonder what he’s really doing here. Guy doesn’t take a leak unless American Dye tells him to go to the bathroom.”
    “Hey, Tommy,” Ron said, “do me a favor. Lay off. I’m the one who gets the complaints.”
    “What’ll you do for me?”
    But the earlier mood was gone, replaced by something uncomfortable, and even Ron no longer wanted to play.
    “Well, that was nice,” he said to Bernie. “We have to live with this guy, you know.”
    Bernie looked up from his stew. “Sorry,” he said, still on edge.
    Ron took a drink, looking at Tommy. “He seems to bring out the best in everybody.”
    “Small fry,” Bernie said, imitating Breimer’s voice. “Whoever that is.”
    “Anybody but Goering,” Tommy said.
    “Small fry,” Bernie said again. “Here’s one.” He reached into the pile and pulled out a few buff-colored sheets. “Otto Klopfer. Wants to drive for us. Experienced. Says he drove a truck during the war. He just didn’t say what kind. One of the mobile units, it turns out. The exhaust