Alone in Berlin (Penguin Modern Classics)

18

The First Card is Dropped

She doesn’t dare mention it until they are on the street, that’s how taciturn Otto is this morning. ‘Where are you going to drop the card, Otto?’

He answers gruffly, ‘Don’t talk about it now. Not on the street.’

And then he adds, in spite of himself, ‘I’ve got a house on Greifswalder Strasse in mind.’

‘No,’ she says decisively. ‘No, don’t do that, Otto. That’s a bad idea!’

‘Come along!’ he says angrily, because she has stopped, ‘I tell you, not on the street!’

He walks on, she follows him, and insists on her right to debate. ‘Not so close to where we live,’ she stresses. ‘If it winds up in their hands, they’ll have an indication of the area right away. Let’s go down to the Alex…’

He reflects. Perhaps she’s right, no, she is right. One has to reckon on anything. And yet, this abrupt change of plan doesn’t suit him at all. If they go all the way down to the Alexanderplatz, time will get short, and he has to go to work. Also, he doesn’t know of any appropriate buildings around the Alex. There are bound to be loads of them, but you have to look for the right one first, and he’d rather do that on his own, not with his wife.

Then, quite suddenly, his mind is made up. ‘OK, Anna,’ he says. ‘you’re right. Let’s go to the Alex.’

She looks at him gratefully. She is glad he has accepted some advice from her. And because he has just made her so happy, she decides she won’t ask him for the other thing, his permission to enter the building with him. He can go alone. She will be a bit scared while she waits for him to come out – but why, really? Not for a moment does she doubt that he will come out. He is so calm and cold, he won’t let himself be caught out. Even if he were in their hands, he wouldn’t give himself away, and he would fight himself free.

As she walks along, thinking such things, at the side of her silent husband, they have turned off Greifswalder Strasse into Neue Königstrasse. She has been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she hasn’t noticed the intensity with which Otto Quangel’s eyes have been scanning the houses opposite them. Now he suddenly comes to a stop – it’s quite a bit further to the Alexanderplatz – and says: ‘There, have a look in that shop window, I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

And already he’s off across the road, walking toward a large, bright office building.

Her heart starts to pound. She feels like calling out: No, not there, we said the Alex! Let’s stay together a bit longer! And: Won’t you at least say goodbye to me first! But already the door is banging shut behind him.

With a deep sigh, she turns toward the shop window. But she sees nothing. She presses her brow against the cold glass, and everything flickers and runs before her eyes. Her heart is beating so hard she can hardly breathe; all the blood seems to have rushed to her head.

So I am afraid, she thinks. My God, he must never find out, otherwise he’ll never take me with him again. But then, I’m not really afraid, she thinks. I’m not afraid for me, I’m afraid for him. What if he doesn’t come out?

She can’t stop herself, she has to look at the office building. The door is pushed open, people come, people go; why doesn’t Quangel come? He must have been gone five minutes, no, ten. Why is there a man running out of the building? Is he calling the police? Don’t say they’ve caught Quangel the very first time!

Oh, it’s more than I can stand! What has he got himself into? And there I was, thinking this was something small! Once a week, and if he writes two cards, twice a week endangering his life! And he won’t always want to take me with him. I noticed that right away – he doesn’t really want me there. He will go by himself, he will drop the cards by himself, and then he will go on to the factory (or he will never go to the factory again!), and I will sit at home waiting, waiting in terror, and this terror will never end, and I will never get used to it. Here’s Otto! At last! No, it’s not him. Not him again. Now I’m going to go and get him, I don’t care how angry he is! Something’s wrong, he must have been gone for a quarter of an hour, it can’t possibly take that long! I’m going after him!

She takes three steps towards the building – and turns around. Stops in front of the window, stares at it.

No, I won’t go in after him, I won’t go looking for him. I can’t let him down like that the very first time. I’m just imagining something has happened to him; people are walking in and out of the building, just as always. I’m sure Otto hasn’t been gone a quarter hour either. Now, let’s see what’s in this shop window. Corsets, garter belts…

In the meantime, Quangel has indeed entered the office building. He settled on it so quickly because of his wife. She was making him nervous: any moment she might start talking about ‘it’ again. He couldn’t stand to prolong his search in her company. She was sure to start talking again, be in favour of this building or against that one. No, enough! He would rather walk into the first building he came to, even if it wasn’t ideal.

This one was a long way short of ideal: It was a bright modern office building that no doubt housed many companies but that still had a porter in a grey uniform. Quangel walks past him with an indifferent expression. He is prepared for the question, Where are you going; he has noted that a lawyer named Toll is on the fourth floor. But the porter doesn’t stop him; he’s busy talking to someone else. He casts a fleeting, indifferent regard at Quangel as he walks in. Quangel turns left to take the stairs, then hears the purr of an elevator. There’s another thing he has failed to allow for, that a modern building like this will have an elevator and the stairs will hardly be used at all.

But Quangel continues up the stairs. The liftboy will think, An old man, fearful of elevators. Or: Only going up to the first floor. Or perhaps he won’t think anything. Anyway, the stairs are hardly in use. He’s already on the second floor, and so far he has met only an office boy in a tearing rush, plunging downstairs with a bundle of letters in his hand, who didn’t even look at Quangel. He could drop his postcard anywhere here, but he doesn’t forget for a moment that there’s that elevator, and he could be seen at any second through its glinting glass. He needs to climb higher, and the elevator needs to be on its way down, and then he can do it.

He stops in front of one of the tall windows between storeys, and stares down at the street. There, well hidden from view, he pulls a glove out of his pocket and puts it on his right hand. He then puts that hand in his pocket, slips it in past the waiting postcard, carefully, so as not to crease it. He takes it between two fingers…

While Otto Quangel is doing all this, he has noticed that Anna is not at her place in front of the shop window at all, but is standing by the side of the road, looking pale and conspicuous as she stares up at the office building. She doesn’t raise her eyes as high as where he is – she’s probably watching the entrance. He shakes his head crossly at her, firmly resolved never to take his wife on another errand like this. Of course she’s worried for him. But why is she worried for him? She ought to be a little worried for herself, badly as she is behaving. It is she who is endangering them both!

He climbs further up the steps. As he passes the next window, he looks down at the street again, and this time Anna is standing in front of the shop window where she’s supposed to be. Good for her, she’s fought down her fear. Brave woman. He won’t even mention it to her. And suddenly Quangel takes out the card, lays it cautiously on the windowsill, pulls the glove off his hand as he begins walking downstairs, and puts it in his pocket.

Climbing down the first few steps, he looks back. There it is in bright daylight, he can still see it from where he is now – the big, legible, bold writing on his first card! Anyone will be able to read it! And understand it, too! Quangel smiles grimly to himself.

At that moment, he hears a door opening on the floor above him. The elevator has just left, heading downstairs. If whoever is upstairs can’t be bothered to wait for the elevator, if he takes the stairs and finds the card… Quangel is only one flight ahead of him. If the man runs, he will be able to catch up with Quangel, perhaps only at the bottom of the building, but he can catch up with him, because Quangel is not allowed to run. An old man, running down the stairs like a schoolboy – that would attract attention. And he must not attract attention, no one must recall seeing a man of such and such an appearance anywhere in the building…

He walks fairly quickly down the stone stairs, and between the sound of his own footsteps, he listens to hear if the other man really has taken the stairs. If so, he will have seen the card; it’s not possible to miss it. But Quangel isn’t quite sure. Once, he thinks he hears steps, but then he doesn’t hear anything more for some time. And by now he’s too far down to hear much. The elevator rides up with a flash of lights.

Quangel sets foot in the lobby. A large group of people are just coming from the courtyard, workers from some factory or other, and Quangel mingles with them. This time, he’s quite convinced, the porter hasn’t even seen him.

He crosses the roadway and comes to stand beside Anna.

‘Done!’ he says.

And as he sees the gleam in her eyes, and the tremble on her lips, he adds, ‘No one saw me!’ And then: ‘Let’s go. I’ve just got time to make it to the factory on foot.’

They go. But both throw a look over their shoulder back to this office building, where the first of the Quangels’ postcards has now embarked on its journey into the world. They nod goodbye to the building. It’s a good building, and however many buildings they visit at weekly intervals in the course of the next months and years, they’ll never forget this one.

Anna Quangel wishes she could stroke her husband’s hand, but she doesn’t dare. She just brushes it, as if by accident, and says, ‘Oh, sorry, Otto!’

He looks at her in surprise, but doesn’t say anything.

They walk on.