“A lot of SS were cops just like you,” I said. “I was a detective when the war started. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“I’m nothing like you, pal,” said the second agent. “Nothing. You hear me?” He poked me on the shoulder with his forefinger for good measure, and it felt like someone drilling for oil. “You remember that when you fly home to your mass-murdering pals. No American ever killed any Jews, mister.”

“What about the Rosenbergs?” I said.

“A Nazi with a sense of humor. How about that, Bill?”

“He’s going to need that when he gets back to Germany, Mitch.”

“The Rosenbergs. That’s very funny. It’s just a pity we can’t fry you, Gunther, the way we fried those two.”

“They had lawyers and a fair trial. And I happen to know that the judge and the prosecutor were Jews themselves. Just for your information, kraut.”

“That is reassuring,” I said. “However, I might feel more reassured if I’d ever seen a lawyer myself. I believe it’s not uncommon for someone in this country to have to appear before a court when there’s a move to have him deported. Especially when it seems possible I might be facing a trial in Germany. I had the strange idea that civil liberties actually meant something in America.”

“Extradition was never meant for scum like you, Gunther,” said the fed called Bill.

“Besides,” said Mitch, “you were never legally here. So you can’t be legally extradited. As far as the American courts are concerned, you don’t even exist.”

“Then it was all a bad dream, is that it?”

Bill put a stick of gum in his mouth and started to chew. “That’s it. You imagined the whole thing, kraut. It never happened. And neither did this.”

I ought to have been ready to sign for it. Their faces had been sending me telegrams ever since we’d got in the paddy wagon. I suppose they were just waiting for a chance to make the delivery, and when it came, in the belly, hard, right up to his elbow, I was still hearing the bell ringing in my ears ten minutes later when we stopped, the doors opened, and they clotheslined me out onto the runway. It was a real professional blow. I was up the steps and onto the plane before I could draw enough breath to wish them both good-bye.

I got a good view of the Statue of Liberty as we took off. I had the peculiar idea that the lady in the toga was giving the Hitler salute. At the very least, I figured the book under her left arm was missing a few important pages.

5

GERMANY, 1954