War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk Read Free Book Online Page A

“Describe him,” said Jastrow.
    “Middle height. Sort of fat. Pale, a lot of blond hair, a high voice. Pleasant manners.”
    “Glasses?”
    “Thick rimless glasses.”
    “It’s probably Werner Beck, though he wasn’t fat then.”
    Natalie had to clear her throat to talk. “Who is he, Aaron?”
    “Why, Werner was a student in my last graduate seminar at Yale. One of the good German students, a demon for work. He had language difficulties, and I helped him over some hurdles. I haven’t seen or heard from him since then.”
    “He says he took the manuscript from your suite,” said Rabinovitz. “He was there, that I can assure you. He was the polite one. The other one was damned ugly.”
    “How did he track me here?” Jastrow seemed dazed. “This is very ominous, isn’t it?”
    “Well, I can’t say. If we deny you’re here, the OVRA will come on board to search. They do anything the Gestapo wants.”
    Shakily Natalie put in, “What about the Turkish flag?”
    “Up to a point, the Turkish flag is fine.”
    Jastrow took a decisive tone. “There’s really no alternative, is there? Shall I go to the gangway?”
    “I’ll bring him to you.”
    It was some comfort to Natalie that the Palestinian was showing so little alarm. To her this was a devastating, hideous development. She was frightened to the core for her baby. Rabinovitz left. Jastrow said meditatively, “Werner Beck! Dear me. Hitler wasn’t even in power when I knew Werner.”
    “Was he for Hitler?”
    “Oh, no. A conservative, gentle, studious sort. Rather religious, if memory serves. From a good family. He was aiming for the Foreign Office, I remember that.”
    The baby sneezed. Natalie busied herself trying to clean out his clogged tiny nose. She was too shocked to think clearly.
    “Professor Jastrow, here’s Dr. Werner Beck.” Rabinovitz stepped into the cabin. A man in a gray overcoat and gray hat bowed in the doorway, lifting the hat and bringing together his heels. Under his left arm he carried a very thick yellow envelope wrapped in string.
    “You do remember me, Professor Jastrow?” His voice was prim and high. He smiled in an awkward, almost apologetic way, half-shutting his eyes. “It’s been twelve and a half years.”
    “Yes, Werner.” Jastrow proffered a gingerly handshake. “You’ve put on weight, that’s all.”
    “Yes, far too much. Well, here is
The Arch of Constantine.
“
    Jastrow set the package on the bunk beside the restless baby, undid the string with shaking fingers, and riffled through the mass of onionskin sheets. “Natalie, it’s all here!” His eyes glistened at the man in the doorway. “What can I say, Werner, but thank you?
Thank you!”
    “It wasn’t easy, Professor. But I knew what it would mean to you.” Dr. Beck turned to Rabinovitz. “It was my Gestapo confrere, you see, who got it away from the OVRA. I don’t think I could have. I regret you and he had words, but you returned him some very short answers, you know.” Rabinovitz shrugged, his expression blank. Beck looked back to Jastrow, who was fondling his papers. “I took the liberty of reading the work, Professor. What an advance over
A Jew’s Jesus!
You demonstrate a very special grasp of early Byzantium, and of the eastern church. You bring that whole lost world tolife. The book will seal your popular fame, and this time the academics will praise your scholarship as well. It’s your finest achievement.”
    “Why, how kind of you, Werner.” Jastrow assumed his simpering way with admirers. “And as for you, your English has amazingly improved. Remember the trouble at your orals?”
    “Indeed I do. You saved my career.”
    “Oh, hardly so.”
    “I’ve since served seven years in Washington. My boys — I have three — are bilingual in English and German. Now I’m first secretary in Rome. And it’s all thanks to you.”
    “Three boys. Well, fancy that.”
    Natalie found it hard to believe that this small talk was going on.