Between the lines

[Sweet_Denna]

This thread is closed for Maka and me. Enjoy!

The ice cubes in the small glass of gin jingled faintly as the plane went through another air pocket and Alice caught her breath. They had taken off in Lisbon Airport three hours ago. Would this damn plane journey never come to an end?

Alice McGregor, a slender young woman in her late twenties, sat up in her seat and looked out the window. It was too cloudy to see anything. Impatiently she downed the rest of her drink and put the glass back on the small table between her and her neighbour who had introduced himself earlier as an American reporter.

Then she leant back with a sigh - the knot in her stomach was still very much there. This was going to be her strangest case yet.

Alice had inherited her thick dark brown curls and her dark eyes from her Greek grandmother, but she had been born and raised in New York. So far, the long war had been only headlines for her, radio reports and the newsreels in movie theatres. Now she was on her way to Berlin, unsure what to expect from a city that had so long been described as the heart of all evil.

A worn copy of Bertolt Brecht poems in German lay opened across her knees. She had taken the book with her almost as a talisman, as if it could shield her from the horrors she expected to find. But the real question was: would she be able to locate the man she had set out to find in post-war Berlin?

She fished her small notebook, bound in worn black leather, from her bag and opened it to a blank page. The first page in a new case was always the hardest to fill, and this time, she was not sure if she would have much to fill it with at all. Despite being only 27, Alice was an excellent detective, even though she thought of herself as more of a finder of lost things, and lost people. She had never worked on a murder case. After having studied history and politics, and after working as a reporter for a small local newspaper, she had more or less slipped into that job without planning to. Her first case – the accidental rediscovery of a piece of a most precious jewellery that had belonged to a very prominent client indeed and that led to the downfall of a smuggling ring that had implicated a couple of high ranking politicians – had made all the headlines and ever since then, the cases had just kept coming her way, and Alice could boast a very impressive record of successes.

She put her pen down to write: Composer and concert pianist Jozef Berkowicz, Polish-Jewish, born March 7th 1911 in Krakow, last seen in Berlin in June 1942. The tip of her pen hesitated at that, bleeding the last number into an ugly ink blotch. 1942. Four years ago. Since then, no one had seen or heard of the musician again. He had not appeared on any of the horrid death lists that held the names of millions of others that the Nazis had butchered with the precision and the gruesome industriousness of a killing machine. In 1943, most of the city’s Jewish population had been deported and wiped out in concentration camps, only a few managed to hide from the henchmen of the small moustachioed madman – what had Brecht called him? The painter, yes.

And yet neither traces of his death nor his body were ever discovered. Alice did not know if his family in New York would have hired her to find him on such a weak basis. But then, only four months ago, they had received a letter telling them of one Jozef Berkowicz renting a room in a small pension in Zehlendorf in Berlin and that this man had introduced himself as a composer from Krakow. Alice looked out the window and sighed, having experienced this so many times before. Hope always died last. But if he was indeed still alive, she would find him. And if he was not, his family would at least have certainty, and, or so Alice hoped with all her heart, some sort of peace.

Tucking a curl of her chin-length hair behind her ear, she opened the carton file that his aunt had given her, and leaved once again through its contents, her brows knitted in concentration. She glanced through a few newspaper cuttings, mostly concert reviews, a couple of artist’s portraits and articles about 20th century music. Sheet music that had been scribbled on, notes written down and crossed out again. The letter with the address of the pension in Zehlendorf. There also were several grainy photographs. One showed a lank, dark-haired man who looked wearily at the camera, one arm resting on the keys of a piano, another two laughing young men, one of whom held a violin. On the back it said: “Jozef and Paul, Berlin 1939”. Paul Klugmann, the violinist. Rumour had it that he still lived in Berlin, and Alice hoped that he might help her, somehow, to find his former colleague and friend. There was a photograph of a beautiful young lady in a flapper dress, one gloved hand provocatively raised to her chin while the other held a cigarette: actress Lieselotte Junker, said to have had a brief, but intense affair with the young Polish composer in the late 1930s. Alice did not know if she was still alive.

There was a newspaper article in German, and faded black letters on yellowed paper exclaimed: “Jozef Berkowicz ist der neue Stern am Musikhimmel” – Alice wondered how it was possible that such a prominent figure could simply vanish without any trace.

Alice closed the folder and leant back in her seat, closing her eyes, concentrating on the low humming of the aircraft motors. Where are you, Jozef?

When the plane did another small jump, she opened her eyes, alarmed. Nervously smiling at the man seated next to her, she said: “Dear, I still cannot get used to the thought of flying through the air in a metal box. I hope we will be there soon?” She was indeed scared of flying, and only the urgency of the Berkowicz family’s request had convinced her from boarding a much slower ship to Europe.

The young man next to her had also offered to show her around Berlin. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. It had been just over a year since the war had ended. The bits that were left of this once beautiful city had jealously been sliced into fought-over pieces between the allied powers, and new fronts were already forming. Churchill’s iron curtain speech was still fresh in everyone’s mind. All help to navigate the maze of this ruined and traumatised city would be most welcome. “Will you stay in a hotel or with friends? I have never been to Berlin and would be grateful if you could suggest a place to stay.”

 

[Maka]

Jake Thornton was over six foot of broadshouldered American masculinity. With clear blue eyes, a firm jaw and tousled blond hair, he was more like the idealized image of the American GI than the American journalist. But journalism was what the press card pinned to his hat identified as his trade.

He was looking at Alice appreciatively, having already provided some words of reassurance during in-flight nerves earlier on. As though simply enjoying the sound of her voice, he took a moment to respond to the question.

"Oh, you bet! I usually stay at a boarding house not far from the Unter den Linden, in the American Zone. Clean place, reasonable rates, and there's a separate floor for the ladies. I'm afraid, uh, young women alone in Berlin these days are not as safe as they'd be in the USA."

He looked down at his glass.

"I hope you don't mind my saying so, but Berlin isn't really a safe place for anyone at the moment. Might I inquire what takes you there, miss? I may be able to help."

 

[Sweet_Denna]

Alice smiled politely. While she knew that he was probably right, she was a bit tired of men giving her patronising advice on how things should be done, making her look and sound like a little girl again. Of course she knew that Berlin would be dangerous, she figured as much, but she had thought long and hard about the pros and cons of this assignment before agreeing to it.

But – what was his name again? John? Jake? Jack? – the man next to her was trying to be genuinely helpful, and he had such a nice smile. Alice nodded. “If you don’t mind, I would like to follow you to the boarding house you mentioned. Unter den Linden is quite central, isn’t it?”

She had heard that destruction was worst in the city centre, but on the other hand it would be smart to stay in a central place. Alice felt for the city plan that she thought she had somewhere in her bag while she continued talking. “I am going to Berlin to look for somebody.” She paused. He was a reporter, after all, and the Berkowicz family had asked her to be as discreet as possible. As the owners of a rather large and successful business, they did not appreciate nosy journalists, and Alice thought that it would not be fair to spread their grief and their hopes all over the yellow press. “Someone who vanished a few years ago. It looks like he is still alive.”

It did sound a bit mad: going to war-torn Berlin, a city that she had never even visited during more peaceful times, to look for one single person. The reporter would probably think she was either delusional, or hopelessly naïve.

“What takes you to Berlin? Are you a war reporter? There must be hundreds of stories basically laying around on the street, waiting to be told, I imagine.”

 

[Maka]

"That's right," said Jake. "From the Brandenburg Tor to what's left of the royal palace. It was a real nice street, once upon a time."

He looked momentarily wistful, a sombre expression somehow at variance with his wholesome, cheerfully handsome features. For a moment, Jake Thornton looked older and wearier. Then, the moment passed and the bright-eyed American football star returned as he replied to Alice's question.

"Well, sure. I was embedded with the Forty First during the war. Good guys. Real good guys. And you're not wrong about all the stories in Berlin, even if they're not exactly feel-good stories, most of them. But I'm over here on the same job as most of the other press-boys. You've heard of Potsdam?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. He smelled fresh and clean, of pine-needles and the outdoors. His arm, hard and muscular, brushed against Alice's breast, soft and warm and firm under her shirt, and he blushed, muttering an apology.

"The big boys are hold up there. Churchill, Roosevelt and good old Uncle Joe. Word has it they're splitting up Europe between them."

Jake slowly moved back, clearly reluctant to give up the physical intimacy between himself and the slender, darkhaired detective.

"But you say you're looking for someone? Mind if I ask who?"

 

[Sweet_Denna]

Alice nodded at his first question. “Yes, I have heard of the talks in Potsdam. Churchill spoke of an iron curtain coming down between the Western Allies and Stalin.” She picked up her glass of gin, and stared at the melting ice cubes inside, momentarily lost in thought. “It’s a scary expression, isn’t it?” She put the glass down again without having drunk from it and turned back to Jake. “At least it scares me. It has such a martial ring to it, don’t you think? One would have thought that people’s thirst for conflict was slaked after this war.”

She had heard that the map of Berlin looked more and more like a jigsaw puzzle that even hardened diplomats had trouble putting together, let alone navigate. Since it was in the centre of the zone occupied by the Russians, Stalin wanted to claim the capital for himself, she had read in some newspaper article. Some were afraid that he would make an attempt to take it from his former Allies’ grasp, which in turn would doubtlessly lead to even more fighting, maybe even another war.

When he leant in closer and accidentally brushed up against her breasts, Alice felt herself blush against her will. But, she noted with a smile, so did he. Jake – yes, that was his name – was of a very comforting presence. His scent even…it made her feel safe. And he was very handsome, very nice, and had just the right amount of shy politeness for a man, especially for a man as intimidating as him. Maybe it was a sign that her journey to Berlin, and her search for Jozef Berkowicz, stood under a good star after all?

“Well, you’re the journalist, Jake. You tell me. Do you think that they are preparing to draw new frontlines across Europe? Call me naïve, but I would prefer that splits and fault lines would be erased rather than emphasized. It feels like the old continent needs a few plasters and bandages rather than a scalpel. But what do I know?”

She turned towards him, almost eager to recreate this all too fleeting intimacy with her attractive neighbour.

“But maybe – if my search finishes well – I will be able to provide you with that feel-good story that everybody so craves these days. In my line of work, I have learned to believe in happy ends.”

 

[Maka]

Jake smiled, something in him seeming to respond to the eager, idealistic light shining in his companion's eyes. Her blush only made her all the more attractive, putting the final touch of a hint of vulnerability to her classical perfect features.

"Oh sure," he said easily. "I'm sure your story will have a happy ending. Something tells me you always get your man."

A slight blush tinted Jake's cheeks now, as though his own thoughts made him aware of the potential double entendre.

"Er, that is to say... get your man like Dick Tracy always gets his man in the funny papers, you know?"

The plane was coming into land now, juddering and shaking as it descended. Jake was scrupulously averting his eyes from the sight of Alice's cleavage rising and falling underneath her shirt in time with the engine.

"As for the Commies... well, I don't know. Fact is, I don't see that they're a whole lot better than the Nazis... but what do I know, right?"

He flashed her an appealing, boyish grin.

 

[Sweet_Denna]

Alice could not help but laugh. “I am not sure if I should be flattered of being compared to Dick Tracy, but I guess I just take it as the compliment that you probably intended it to be.” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks again, well aware of his blush and the somewhat flirtatious ring to his comment. It had likely been unintended, she told herself, wishing for the exact opposite.

But the truth was that Alice had not had much luck with members of the opposite sex so far. Most men did not appreciate a woman doing a job that many still considered to be a male domain. Her last serious boyfriend – actually her fiancé, technically – had told her that he felt uncomfortable with a girl who knew how to shoot a gun better than himself, and that had been the end of it, in many ways the final straw. It had been horribly unfair, since she was a pretty bad shot, but this had not swayed him. Maybe part of her had wanted to take the Berlin job to finally erase Arthur from her mind.

She could not help but wonder if Jake liked girls who did not fit the norm. Judging by his looks, he was probably everybody’s darling back home, and very likely everywhere else he went, too. Alice caught herself smiling in that way, the kind of smile that hoped to attract male attention, and that annoyed her on other women, but most of all on herself. Come on, kiddo, she thought. Not even landed at the airport yet, and already getting in man trouble? Get a grip. But why did he have to be so horribly charming?

When the plane started to descend, she felt her stomach in knots again. But at least this journey would finally come to an end. She gripped her armrest, and almost reached for his hand for reassurance, but his comment distracted her. “I don’t know either. I guess?” She closed the book of Brecht poems. “Do you like Brecht? He seems to put high hopes into the future, and would probably argue that almost anything would be better than the Nazis.” She tried to stuff the book back in bag, the folder of newspaper clippings and photographs still balancing on her knees.

It was just then that the plane did another jump, and Alice let out a small scream, while the folder slid from her lap onto the floor. “Excuse me”, she said with an embarrassed smile. “I am such a klutz.” She bent over to pick it up, but one photograph slid out from the leather file, and came to rest next to Jake’s feet. “Sorry, could you please pass me this?” He really must think of her as the clumsiest person he had ever met. Alice feared that Dick Tracy would be the best compliment she would get from him, if she continued like this.

 

[Maka]

"Brecht?" Jake frowned. "I think he's trying to do something new with drama, all right. Whether he's succeeding..."

The thought was left unfinished as the plane began to judder and shake. Jake let his hand rest reassuringly on Alice's arm, a sense of a hard, unyielding strength somehow coming through unmistakably through even his gentle grip. Letting out a little scream, she'd sent her papers flying and was now unwittingly giving him an eyeful of nicely rounded cleavage as she fumbled for the file pictures.

Jake handed her the one by his foot, discreetly face-down. "I'm nosy," he said with a mea culpa grin, "But I won't pry anywhere you don't want me too."

The plane had now hit the ground and was crashing down the runway. Jake continued to grip Alice's forearm.

"Alice... ah, that is, Miss McGregor, you don't want to be hanging around in the queue at visa control. That's strictly for the mugs. I know a couple of boys in Admissions... they can fast-track us. That is," his grin had a bit more mischief to it, "If you're willing to bend the rules with me a little bit."

 

[Sweet_Denna]

Alice took the picture from him and put it back into her file. “Thank you”, she smiled gratefully. “I really appreciate that.” And she meant it. The fact that he had not even tried to glance at it proved that he was not one of those incorrigibly nosy journalists that she was used to from previous assignments. The more she got to know Jake, the more she felt that she could trust him. Maybe he could even be of some help, with all the contacts he doubtlessly had in Berlin. If they would stay in the same pension, more occasions for meetings would certainly arise – at least she hoped so.

His next suggestion seemed to prove her right, and if truth be told, she was impressed. If his contacts allowed him to circumvent official business like borders and visa, he must indeed be very well connected.

She shook her head in mock disapproval and laughed. “It’s fine, please do call me Alice.” It was enough that she felt like her own grandmother for her silly fear of flying and her clumsiness. And she would indeed have liked to get out of this plane, and this airport, as fast as possible. She had heard that visa procedures were still incredibly long – it seemed that victors and losers, despite all the other differences, shared the same passion for bureaucracy.

And which woman would have been able to resist that grin? If he would have asked her to rob a bank using that smile, she would have agreed to that as well.

“Yes thank you, I would be grateful”, she finally replied. And it looks like I am in good hands”, she glanced down at his hand still holding on to her arm, despite the fact that the plane had safely landed by now. She did not move, for fear that he would take it away. “So – sure! I am all yours to bend the rules with as you see fit.”

 

[Maka]

"Alice it is," said Jake, his mischevious-boy smile widening. His hand remained on her arm.

"I am all yours to bend the rules with as you see fit.”

There was something about Alice's tone as she said this, her lovely face almost deadpan with just a little hint of a smile of her own, that any redblooded man would have found hard to resist. Jake stood, offering Alice his arm.


In the arrivals hall, there were long lines of people waiting -smoking, fidgeting, even lying down on the floor to sleep. Suited official or diplomat types, soldiers, journalists -all waiting by one of the four visa stations. Jake crossed over to the American line and put his fingers in a mouth for a wolf-whistle, calling the attention of the heavyset army sergeant on duty.

"Hey hey! Sergeant O'Brien of the Fighting Forty First, I believe?"

The sergeant looked up, a grin spreading across his face.

"Jake Thornton, as I live and breath! And..."

His eyes wandered appreciately over Alice's gorgeous face and exquisite form.

"Eyes front, O'Brien," said Jake cheerfully. O'Brien shook his head.

"Some guys get all the luck. What's your name, miss? And come on through, we'll get you sorted right away. Jake's a pal."

There were mutters of irritated disbelief from the waiting line, but O'Brien dismissed them with an airy hand gesture.

 

[Sweet_Denna]

The arrivals hall was teeming with people. Alice gingerly carried her leather bag and her suitcase, trying to follow Jake who seemed to know his way around the airport very well. He must be a senior reporter, so well acquainted with the city already. Alice made a mental note to ask him which newspaper he worked for, so she could look for his articles later.

Despite the hurry they were in she tried to catch a glimpse through the smudgy airport windows, but all she could see were even more people outside. So this was Berlin! Alice had to admit that she was excited to be here. She could feel the adrenaline rush of a new case, making her skin tingle. While she had been sleepy and exhausted while still on the plane, Alice was very much alert now.

She squeezed past other waiting passengers and had to gingerly step over two or three who were taking a nap on the floor. Obviously they had been in line for a very long time. “Are you sure this is okay”, she whispered to her self-confident companion, painfully aware of the spiteful stares they were getting. Some people muttered sharply under their breath as she walked passed them, and Alice was sure that none of the things they said were very flattering.

One well-dressed woman looked her up and down with obvious disdain and then turned to the man at her side, her voice well audible: “Mais oui, c’est bien ça – coucher avec les soldats américains pour se faciliter la vie…” Alice blushed to a deep red. Of course everyone here would think that. She lowered her head and stayed as close behind Jake as possible, wishing that he would try to draw a bit less attention than he did. But she had no luck – and those passengers who had not yet noticed them cutting in line surely did so after he wolf-whistled across the arrivals hall.

Alice tried to ignore them and joined him at the desk where an impressively built army sergeant greeted his friend and had no qualms giving her an appreciative look-over. Just like the unpleasant French woman earlier, he seemed to think that she and Jake were an item. Alice sighed, but decided to ignore his comments, simply wishing to leave the arrivals hall behind her as fast as possible.

When Sergeant O’Brien held out his hand, she rummaged for her passport and papers in her handbag and handed them to him with a shy smile. “My name is Alice McGregor, sir”, she replied politely to his question. “And this is my very first time in Germany.” Throwing a furtive glance over her shoulder, she added. “It looks like it is more popular than ever?”

 

[Maka]

The sergeant snorted.

"Ha! Trust me, when you see the state Berlin's in, you'll wonder why."

He looked through Alice's passport, taking note of the exceptionally winsome image of Alice, somehow equally gorgeous in black and white.

"Not that the attraction's exactly difficult to figure out."

"Oh?" asked Jake.

"Sure, Jake. It's like you used to say yourself. Victori spolia. 'To the victor, the spoils.' Now Germany's ready for cutting up, everyone wants a slice."

"Miss McGregor's a detective, O'Brien. I'm sure she'll figure this stuff out by herself."

O'Brien had, in fact, just reached Alice's PI license. His eyes widened, and he took a breath.

"Say! You don't... well, you don't look a hell of a lot like a gumshoe."

Jake shook his head wearily. "Just get us to the taxi-stand, O'Brien. You can try and get Miss McGregor's phone number on her way back out of Berlin."


O'Brien led them down a side-passage, again avoiding a crush of anxious, impatient people, and through a side-entrance down a flight of concrete stairs overlooking Berlin. The highway into town was a shell-scarred, pitted belt of tarmacadam half-melted by explosions. Here and there cars stood, masses of twisted and blackened metal. The highrises to either side stood blank and vacant, gaping mortal holes a silent testimony to the chaotic, bloody last few days of the fall of Berlin.

Jake looked over the vista, shaking his head.

"Yep," said O'Brien. "We whupped them pretty hard. Mind you, it's nothing to the damage the Russians did in east Berlin. You used to have a little catchphrase about that too, didn't ya, Jake?"

Jake gave him a sharp look, but didn't say anything.

"That's right. Back in France. Don't ya remember, Jake?"

O'Brien turned to Alice.

"Vae victus, he used to say. 'Woe to the conquered'."

 

[Sweet_Denna]

Alice sighed, but kept a straight face. Well, yes, she was a woman, and young, and for some reason both of these traits seemed to exclude her from any profession that men would take seriously, or would have rather practised themselves. If she had a penny for each time that she heard that line, she would not have had to work a day longer at all.

But instead of being annoyed, she graciously took her passport and her license back from the sergeant and smiled as sweetly as she could. After all, she did not want to piss off the man who was going to get her a visa and access to the city before everyone else. “Well, sir, I find that it can be an advantage for a detective if she is not immediately recognised as such.” Alice put both documents carefully away. “And it can be a real advantage if my foes don’t see me coming. I am sure you know exactly what I mean.”

This seemed to settle it but she was grateful nonetheless when Jake urged his friend to get them out of the airport.

While she had certainly expected to witness destruction, she was not quite prepared for what she saw when she stepped outside. “Bloody hell”, she murmured, more to herself than to the two men next to her. It was hard to imagine that this ruined heap of stone and metal had been a city once and even harder to picture that it was a city still. For a moment her heart sank. How would she ever be able to find one man, one man who apparently did not want to be found, amidst all this?

The sergeant’s comments brought her back from these thoughts. It seemed that Jake was uncomfortable with his companion’s comments, but Alice found that his little Latinism was spot on. Woe to the conquered indeed. On the other hand Alice found it difficult to feel sorry for the Germans. Back where she came from many people thought that they had brought this misery onto themselves. But nonetheless…she sighed. Somewhere in Berlin people were still going about their lives, working, eating, taking strolls, making love, splitting up…and somewhere amongst those people, Jozef Berkowicz was maybe still alive, maybe even composing.

She looked from O’Brien to Jake.

Alice had difficulties imagining charming, corn-fed Jake as a hardened soldier, but then again she did not really know what a true soldier would be like. Her sister’s husband had been in the war, and he was now a perfectly pleasant accountant somewhere in Iowa.

“Well…I am beat.” She nodded at the sergeant. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir. But I think I would like to get going, if that’s okay Jake?” She gave both of them a winning smile.

 

[Maka]

Jake nodded.

"Sure thing. My buddy Chris should be waiting to pick me up. You need a cool head to navigate the city these days -and Chris is cooler than an Eskimo."

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, a battered blue Volkswagen barreled up towards them, going at eighty miles an hour across the airport concourse, dodging and weaving through the rubble and incoming cars. It skidded neatly to a halt just in front of the three, a horn sounding in a flippant greeting.

Jake turned to O'Brien and shook him by the hand.

"Sarge. Always a pleasure. Thanks for getting us through there."

O'Brien shook his head dubiously. "Just look after the girl gumshoe, Jake."

He turned to Alice as Jake leaned in the car window to talk to the driver.

"Be careful with this guy, miss. He's...", O'Brien hesitated, looking at Jake's broad-shouldered, leaning form, "Well, he's a good guy to have on your side, you know? He don't scare, and he's easy to like. But he's not quite what he seems. Back in the Ardennes..."

"The Ardennes. Whoa!"

Jake had turned around and was spreading his muscled arms in an expression of mock-alarm. It was not clear how much of the conversation he'd heard.

"Don't listen to this guy's war-stories, Alice. He'll talk your ear off."

He winked. O'Brien, unoffended, just shrugged and wished Alice luck in Berlin.

"I'd also like you to meet Chris."

The driver of the Volkswagen peered out through the car-window. She was a small, delicately-constituted girl dressed in cast-off German army fatigues, a pair of oversized shades perched on her nose and a black baseball cap on her head, perched on unruly tussles of blonde-white hair.

"Or Christina."

"Welcome to Berlin," said Chris, her voice deadpan, her accent slightly tinged with German. She took a cigarette from the roof of her car and lit with a Zippo lighter. "It isn't what it used to be."

 

[Sweet_Denna]

Alice smiled hesitantly as a bruised-looking blue Volkswagen made its way towards them. She bit back the question if that car would be safe to climb into, and if it would be able to accommodate all three of them without starting to lose parts, thinking that voicing such doubts would be rather rude. What was clear, though, was that whoever was sitting behind the wheel was not a shy driver.

“Gee, I am…looking forward to that”, she muttered softly at Jake’s words. It looked like his friend Chris was as much a carefree soul as Jake himself seemed to be. She wondered if he was a journalist as well, or an ex-soldier, or both.

While Jake talked to the driver, Sergeant O’Brien turned to her. Alice smiled, amused by his fatherly worried look. She got that a lot from men, especially after they learned that she was a detective.

"Be careful with this guy, miss. He's…well, he's a good guy to have on your side, you know? He don't scare, and he's easy to like. But he's not quite what he seems. Back in the Ardennes..."

She frowned, a wee bit confused. Why was it that his well-meant advice sounded like a warning? And what did he mean by saying that Jake was not quite what he seemed? What else could he be, besides an ex-soldier and a reporter? A womanizer maybe? Alice had to admit that she would not mind that kind of threat, especially not if it came from Jake. But something told her that Sergeant O’Brien was not speaking of fast fingers or a sweet tongue. Her investigative sense told her that he was referring to something else. But what? She opened her mouth to speak, but Jake’s hasty interruption stopped her.

Huh. Jake clearly did not want his Ardennes adventures to become public knowledge. He did not strike her as the modest type, so why was he so touchy about his war stories? Alice made a mental note to ask him that exact question, later, when they were alone.

Alice shook O’Brien’s hand. “Thank you, Sergeant. And thank you so much for your help. If it wasn’t for you and your friend Jake here, I’d be taking a nap between all the other eager Berlin visitors now.”

When Jake introduced his friend Chris, however, her eyes widened. It turned out that Chris was a Christina. For some reason, Alice felt a brief sting of disappointment. Despite all his flirting, was Jake attached? At the girl’s words, she raised an eyebrow, her lips curling in a wry smile. Was brave soldier Jake of the Fighting Forty First fraternising with the enemy?

“Thanks, Chris…tina”, she finally said. “I am looking forward to seeing what is left of it.”

 

[Maka]

Jake slid into the backseat of the Volkswagen behind Alice. It was a tight fit. Alice's thigh was pressed against his side, her thick dark brown curls just below his chin, their clean, elusive scent tantalizing his nostrils. He casually put his calloused hand down on hers on the seat, two of his fingers easily slipping around her delicate wrist.

"Take us to Frau Becker's please, Chris."

"Jawohl," said Chris, flipping a negligent salute. She adjusted the mirror, seeing Jake's hand on Alice's, and gave the female detective a broad wink in the mirror.

"Chris has an American mother," Jake told Alice quietly, as they set off with a roar of grinding gears. "She could have left for the States but she stayed in Berlin throughout the whole war. She was in the Resistance."

"Like I was going to let that Nazi Hurensohn chase me out of my city," said Chris, overhearing. They hit a bump in the road and the car tilted sideways for a moment, spilling Alice into Jake's lap. As they disentangled themselves, Chris spoke again.

"By the way, Jake, I thought you should know. Lieutenant Calloway has come back to Berlin."

Jake had been in the process of helping to lift Alice off him. Now his hands froze, holding her in place for a moment.

"That asshole? Sorry, Alice. This guy is British military police and a real pain in the ass."

"Yeah. He's been in Krakow, then Prague, for the last couple of weeks. You said to tell you when he came back."

Jake was nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes, yeah. Thanks, Chris. Wonder what the hell he wants now."

 

[Sweet_Denna]

Alice was surprised when Jake put two of his fingers around her wrist, but really, there was not much room for manoeuvre. She threw him a shy sideways glance, but said nothing. And of course Christina would take their familiarity with each other the wrong way. Alice smiled back at her in the mirror in resignation. After all, it did not really matter what anyone thought.

When the car lurched forward, Alice had to hold on to the seat in front of her in order not to fly into Jake’s lap. Her bag was uncomfortably stored between her feet.

“Mixed Parents like this must have been hard”, the young detective said after Jake’s explanation. Looking out of the window at half-bombed buildings, some of which were so damaged that they loomed like hollow, rotten teeth by the side of the road, she added softly: “And I could imagine that there will be more to come, too.”

Alice had read about women who had taken up with German soldiers in France, and about their children. The public shaming. Of course, Christina had chosen the right side, and she did not look like she was easily intimidated, but Alice wondered how people reacted to anything that was not as clear-cut, not as black and white as they wanted it to be. She also wondered how Christina’s parents had weathered the war, but she did not want to ask her, not yet.

But then, with a soft cry, she landed in Jake’s lap after all. “Sorry”, she jumbled, embarrassed about the sudden proximity. It was hard not to notice the hard muscles underneath his shirt, the strength of his thighs. She could feel herself blush as he lifted her off him, only to then keep her locked in this rather unusual position. Despite that, she was all now all ears. Krakow?

Trying to come to a sitting position again, Alice asked: “Who is this Lieutenant Calloway? And what exactly does his being a…’pain in the ass’ entail?” She was pretty sure that in his career as a hack, Jake must have pissed off the occasional politician.

“Oh, that reminds me - which newspaper are you writing for, Jake? I would love to read some of the things that you have written.”

 

[Maka]

With a mumbled apology, Jake returned Alice to her seat next to him. She seemed as light as a feather in his hands, her lithe body still pressed against his as he let go.

"I'm freelance," he said. "Beholden to no-one, it's the only way to go. Only problem is, if you get in trouble, nobody's exactly champing at the bit to help you out. But you should know I never get in trouble."

He grinned mischeviously at Alice, perfect white teeth gleaming. Christina snorted.

"As for Calloway... ahh, as far as I can tell, the guy's just miserable and likes making everyone else miserable. He was a cop in London before the war. Detective. Now he's with the military police in the British sector, but he seems to spend half his time chasing his tail across Eastern Europe."

They were now speeding through downtown Berlin. The streets were becoming busier, Christina frequently hurling abuse in German at drivers who moved too slowly.

Jake cleared his throat.

"Listen, Alice... I know you must be tired, and I'm sure you're keen to get to gumshoeing right away as well, but do you feel like going out tonight? You'd be surprised at how lively Berlin nightlife can be these days, and it's a great way to get a feel for the city. Hell, if you're curious about Calloway, we can go to the Blue Angel Nightclub. He practically lives there when he's in town. What do you say?"

 

[Sweet_Denna]

Alice raised an eyebrow at his suggestion.

‘Going out’ in a traumatised and seemingly dead city like Berlin was an absurd, almost an obscene idea, but Alice thought that it would be the best possible way to get under its skin. Those who were still – or again - frequenting night clubs in Berlin were undoubtedly those it was most worth to meet.

She nodded. “Sure, why not? My sleeping hours are all off, and while I am indeed tired I am much too wired to go to bed.”

Alice also thought that meeting the disgruntled British ex-detective might come in handy. Without any doubt he would know his way around Berlin, he would know the right people to speak to, and while she had confidence in Jake’s reporting capabilities, she was looking forward to meeting someone that she considered a colleague. In her experience, hacks were usually not very welcome in the offices of the local authorities, and Alice knew that she would need their help if she was to get anywhere.

She was also intrigued by Calloway’s connection to Krakow. If he was with the military police now, he must have heard things, seen things. Lost in thought, she looked out the window.

For the first time after she had landed in Berlin, her thoughts wandered back to Jozef Berkowicz. She watched people in the sidewalk; saw a woman shoving a rusty bike, two children playing with pieces of broken furniture, piled up for someone’s stove. Suddenly remembering something, she leant forward to talk to Christina: “Say…Chris, have you heard anything about a certain actress…Lieselotte Junker? I heard she was big in Berlin well into the war. Do you know if she is still here?”

 

[Maka]

Chris frowned, delicate brows contracting.

"Lieselotte Junker...? Oh yes. She was considered 'politically suspect' but she stayed working. They say she was having an affair with a high-ranking Nazi official. Wherever she is now, she'll be staying out of sight. They shoot collaborators, you see."

"Der Mann mit kein Gesicht," said Jake. "That was one of hers, wasn't it?"

He turned to Alice. "One of those weird films they made in the old Weimar Republic. A man gets his face burned off and goes around in bandages like a mummy."

"Spoooky," commented Chris, pursing her lips and drawing out the word for effect as the car careened through the Brandenburg Tor.

"Unheimlich," corrected Jake with a grin. "As Doc Freud would say."

He turned back to Alice. "Why do you ask? Surely Lieselotte Junker isn't the person you're looking for?"

 

[Sweet_Denna]

“Politically suspect?” Alice frowned. “And said to have slept with a high-ranking Nazi?” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, thinking. “So it would be entirely possible that she agreed to the affair to protect herself. And maybe others, too.” It seemed a plausible explanation. Alice suddenly felt an inexplicable anger towards those who were so eager to condemn people like Lieselotte Junker as collaborators. Not everyone had the courage for defiance. Not everyone was comfortable with open resistance. For a second she wondered how she would have reacted in the young woman’s place. Maybe her love for a prominent Polish-Jewish musician had scared her in the end? Had she wanted to distract the unforgiving public from her earlier sins?

Yes, none of these explanations were very flattering, but all of them would have been quite understandable. Alice made a mental note to ask the British detective about the actress.

Alice was reluctant to mention the actress’ rumoured liaison with the Polish composer, since neither of them had mentioned it. Despite her sympathy for the American journalist and his friend she was still rather reluctant to bring up the name of Jozef Berkowicz.

“No, I am not looking for Lieselotte Junker, but she might have information on the person that I am looking for.” She smiled faintly. “But that is for later. Did you not promise me an entertaining evening first?” She put one hand on Jake’s arm. “I am looking forward to that.”

 

[Maka]

"That's right. She was a Communist sympathizer," said Chris. "Must have made for fun pillow talk with her Nazi boyfriend."

Jake smiled at Alice's touch on his arm. "Right you are, boss. We'll do the man-hunt later."


The car pulled up below a tenement building and the passengers emerged. There were flickers of movement behind the windows up and down the street, as Venetian blinds were tilted and curtains twitched aside. A stone-faced man in a threadbare coat stood on a balcony smoking, his expressionless eyes tracking the couple.

"Get used to the feeling of being watched," Jake said cheerfully. "It's basically synonymous with Berlin these days."

He turned back to Chris.

"Thanks for the ride, partner. Maybe we'll see you around in town."

"Count on it," said Chris. She gave Alice a crooked smile. "And watch your back, Miss McGregor. This is not such a nice town any more."

She drove off, the dyspeptic roar of her engine loud in the street's eerie silence. Jake shook his head.

"She's got her strange ways but she's one in a million. You can count on Chris, Alice. Now let's introduce you to Frau Meyer."


Frau Meyer was a short, squat woman, a pince-nez dangling around her neck as she sat in her little cubbyhole of an office, to one side of the foyer.

"Servus, Frau Meyer! Dies Fraulein ist Alice McGregor, ein amerikanisch Privatdetekiv. Sie braucht ein Zimmer."

Frau Meyer fumbled for her pince-nez and drew it to her face to examine Alice, her eyes scanning the slender detective's taut body, before moving across her face.

"Schön!" she said at last with an impish smile. Jake blushed but returned the smile.

 

[Sweet_Denna]

When Alice got out of the car she was uncomfortably aware of being watched by countless pairs of eyes, hidden behind curtains and blinds. Usually it was her who observed others, not the other way around, and being the object of such open curiosity made her feel rather uncomfortable. When she looked up, her eyes met that of a man standing on a balcony smoking, blatantly staring, his expression inscrutable.

For some reason, it sent shivers down her spine and she hurried to stand next to Jake who was bidding his friend good-bye. He was obviously used to prying eyes, and did not think much of it. “It feels like they are all waiting for something…or someone”, she whispered.

Then she turned towards Chris and smiled: “Yes, thank you for the ride…and very nice to meet you. I am sure I’ll see you again soon.” She nodded at Jake’s comment. “Yes, I can see why one would want to be her friend – especially in a time and a city like this.”

Then she bent down to grab her bag and followed Jake into the building.


Alice waited politely as Jake introduced her to a squat little concierge with a kind face. However when the woman examined her with the intensity of a mother considering a future daughter-in-law – and her bodily features – Alice could not help but blush. She opened her mouth to point out that her and Jake had only met on the airplane and were not, in any way, a couple, but then decided against it. Chances were that Frau Meyer would not believe her anyway.

She extended her hand for the concierge to shake it and said in accented German: “Freut mich, Frau Meyer, ich hoffe, Sie können mich unterbringen?” The board house did not look like it was bustling with people, but Alice did not want to seem impolite.

 

[Maka]

"Es gibt immer Raum für ein hübsch Mädchen", Frau Meyer beamed as she shook Alice's delicate hand with both of her wrinkled, powerful hands. She gave a significant look at Jake and then peered delightedly at the detective.

Jake sighed, and winked at Alice as Frau Meyer turned to retrieve the key. She turned brandishing it triumphantly.

"Es ist unter den sein Zimmer," she confided in a whisper to Alice, indicating Jake. She smiled, a little sadly. "Wir haben kein Liebe in Berlin heute."


"I'm sorry about Frau Meyer," Jake said as they climbed the stairs. Jake had taken Alice's bag and effortlessly slung it across his broad shoulders, not seeming to feel the weight. "She kinda sees me as her rascal son so when I bring home such a lovely lady, I guess she thinks it's grandchildren time. It wouldn't be worth explaining to her that we aren't... uh... that you know..."

He trailed off. He had let Alice take the lead and his eyes were admiringly tracing the curves of her form and the up and down motion of her svelte ass as she took the stairs.

"Ahem. And there's a sad side to it too. She lost her own sons, you see -three of them, all killed one after another in France. She knows I was stationed there with the other guys but it doesn't seem to bother her. Actually, I think it just makes me remind her of her sons all the more.."

Alice's room was on the second floor landing. It was not luxurious -an iron-framed cot in corder of the room, a washstand, a chair, and a cross on the wall were all the furnishings consisted of. But a window gave a view of the Unter den Linden, stunning even in ruins, on which the sun was just now setting.

"Makes you think," Jake said. He stood at the window.

"Hitler had a pet architect -some guy named Speer, he's being held in Nuremberg now. He wanted to design buildings that would look most impressive once they'd fallen into ruin. Of course, the masterminds of the Thousand-ear Reich didn't care for the idea that the new Germany's buildings would ever become ruins..."

He looked thoughtfully.

"Seems like he got his wish, though. The Nazi regime has left behind a world of ruins."

He was standing very close to Alice. His wondering gaze moved to her delicate features, her deep and thoughtful eyes, and he blushed.

"Um. Yeah! I'll... I'll just be upstairs. I'm sure you want to get changed and such."

His eyes wandered to the washstand and it was not hard to surmise his thoughts from the way they widened: naked Alice. Yowza.

"Come up and give me a shout when you're ready to go out."

 

[Sweet_Denna]

Alice could not help but feel a bit flustered herself, standing so close to Jake. His handsome face looked even lovelier when he blushed. She thought it was quite a relief that a man such as him, who had doubtlessly seen his fair share of death and destruction, could blush still. It made her think that despite all the desolation and cynicism in this fallen city not all innocence was lost. It made her trust him all the more.

“Oh, don’t worry about Frau Meyer”, she said. “I think she is very nice and I am glad she will let me stay here.” Taking in the small, but well-kept room, she added: “The poor woman must be quite lonely now, don’t you think?” Her thoughts wandered to the Polish composer again. Would he be lonely? What if he did not want to be found?

Then she looked up at Jake again and nodded. “I won’t be long. Just give me thirty minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.” It was her turn to blush now. Jake might have been many things, but he certainly had no talent hiding his thoughts. She raised an eyebrow playfully and motioned her head towards the door. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

When he had left, she turned and walked towards the window, gazing across the alley before her. The view was stunning, and Alice thought that despite the many hollow ruins lining Berlin’s streets now, she could still fall for the charm of this city. Picturing Jake, she smiled to herself. How lucky for her to have found someone as helpful and interesting on the very first day.

Tearing herself from her thoughts, she peeled out of her clothes and soaked the wash cloth in water. The warm water felt soothing on her skin. Alice closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander, feeling the fatigue and anxiety of the journey slowly falling away.

When she was done she put on black silken stockings, black lace underwear and a slimly cut dark grey dress that came down to her knees. Alice knew that she looked stunning in it, her former fiancé had told her so many times, and it was not too flashy. The last thing she wanted was to appear the over-dressed American tourist on her first night out in Berlin.

She looked into the slightly faded mirror, applied some mascara and only a touch of ruby lipstick. Alice frowned at her image looking back at her. “Better not overdo it”, she whispered. Somehow it felt obscene to look too done up amidst these ruins, much like wearing bright colours at a funeral. If she wanted to get anywhere in her search for Berkowicz, she needed to blend in as best she could.

Slipping on her black shoes and a light coat, Alice saw that the file of newspaper clippings was laying on top of her bed. Quickly, she shoved it underneath the duvet and headed out.

Her heart was beating faster when she approached his door. She told herself that it was silly to see this outing as anything even remotely resembling a date, but she could not deny the attraction she felt for the American journalist. Taking a deep breath, she knocked softly.

“Jake, it’s me – I am ready when you are.”