Chapters (43)
No, he wasn’t going to drive away. He waited. Ettinger’s face popped up in the driver’s window. His eyes twitched searchingly left and right. He seemed to be working hard trying to figure out the meaning of this situation. “Hey, mister, why’d you just slam on the brakes like that?”
“There was a dog,” said Josef, his voice firm.
“Here’s my card. We’ll settle things ourselves. No need to get the police involved.”
Josef got out. Saw with satisfaction that Ettinger shrank back. On the sidewalk people had stopped and were looking at them with curiosity. The front end of the black Austin was crumpled. The delivery truck’s bumper was hanging off. The license plate had come off completely. A man was sitting in the Austin. Josef thought he saw a small shiny radio in his hand.
“You ran into that delivery truck,” someone called out.
“Get the police!” cried Josef.
“You’re doing it all wrong, Joe,” whispered Ettinger.
They waited in silence. Ettinger kept staring at him. It was a probing look. At one point he said, “Think about this. It’s not too late,” but Josef turned away.
When a cop showed up fifteen minutes later, Ettinger said, “All right, then,” hurried toward the cop, and planted himself in front of him.
Josef tugged at the back door of the truck. He wanted to show everyone what they were hauling around town—not just drinks but a radio. The door was locked. Liquid dripped onto the pavement.
Ettinger stood talking with the cop. He was sure to have shown him his FBI badge. The cop gave the people standing around the sign to move along, the situation broke up into its separate components.
Josef climbed back into the cab, and when Ettinger drove past him he heard him say in German, “Das war ein Fehler”—That was a mistake.
Then there was heavy breathing. Josef turned around. Max sat in a glittering pile of broken glass and puddles of lemonade, his hands bloody. “That guy’s got something to hide—how much you wanna bet? I’ve got a nose for these things. He bribed the cop.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’ll live. No comparison with Sonnenstaub.” He gave an indecent laugh.
Josef had already started the engine. Now he turned it off again.
“What’s wrong?” cried Max. “Drive already!”
“You’d like to take credit for Sonnenstaub, huh? For people getting maimed or killed?”
“It’s war, Josef. You don’t know what war is—you were never in one. So shut your mouth and take me to a hospital.”
He drove off. Thoughts flew through his head. Your life will grow smaller from now on, ever smaller. You won’t amount to anything more here in America. Something inside him let go and relaxed.
Peace.