Becker was sitting with two Sturmführers, clearly at ease and enjoying himself, dining and drinking champagne—as had become his custom in recent years after closing a business deal. When he caught sight of Silbermann taking a seat at the next table, his relaxed mood vanished and he seemed on edge, shooting reproachful glances at his friend. Don’t even think of joining us, his eyes warned, while at the same time asking: Why did you come? Why did you follow me? What on earth are you thinking, anyway?
Silbermann acted as though he hadn’t noticed his partner’s admonishing gaze and chiding glances. He studied the menu for a long time and then ordered a steak and a half-bottle of red wine, in a natural if somewhat faltering voice. He had slept through the whole morning and by the time he woke up it was practically one in the afternoon. Now it was nearly 2:00.
The evening before had gotten very late. Becker hadn’t been in the hotel when Silbermann arrived, and after waiting a long time in vain, he went to look for a place to spend the night. He hadn’t dared to ask for a room in the Vier Jahreszeiten—the doorman’s “Heil Hitler” had sounded too sincere. So he had gone to a guesthouse for foreigners that he knew of, where he was able to sleep undisturbed. However, when he filled out the official registration just as he was leaving, and they saw his name, he was told that in the future he’d be better off staying in a guesthouse reserved for Jews. The comment did not exactly improve his mood.
Silbermann cast sullen glances at Becker.
That man sitting there, he thought, that friend of mine—at least I hope he’s my friend—has my fortune in his pocket. Then he wondered whether their Hamburg business associates might have tried to change the terms of the deal. In actuality everything had been clearly spelled out and agreed to, he told himself. But nothing was so clear it couldn’t become murky again. On the other hand, Becker was a capable businessman and also a reliable one. Reliable, without a doubt. Absolutely. Together they had netted seven thousand marks from dismantling that ship: if they had taken on the actual scrapping as well, they would have likely earned even more. As it was, they’d put in a lot of work and had had their share of troubles. In any case I’ll be happy and content just to get my money back, thought Silbermann.
He raised the wineglass to his mouth. That was my last deal in Germany, he promised himself. To earn three thousand five hundred marks I risked seventy-eight thousand. He shook his head. Never again. Was it a sure thing? He was about to find out. He didn’t want to consider it a sure thing as long as Becker had the money. Then again, clearly Becker was someone he could rely on. He gave his friend another anxious, distressed look. Why didn’t the man come up with some pretext to leave the others and join him? And what on earth was he doing with two Sturmführers?
When you think about it, what reason do I actually have to trust him? Silbermann worried. Trust is something I really can’t afford. Not that I have to be suspicious all the time, no—but I do have to be careful. Trust or caution? My brother Hans fell in the war, fighting for Germany. He had trust. But that’s just nonsense—what does one thing have to do with the other?
Becker stood up.
Now he’s going to sit down with me, Silbermann thought, and casually set his knife and fork down on his plate.
But Becker strode calmly past his table, followed by the men in uniform, without so much as a greeting. For a moment Silbermann was speechless. Then he called out, “Waiter!” He paid for his meal, jumped up, and hurried after Becker, pulling his coat on as he walked. Becker had just left the dining room and was already in the lobby when Silbermann again caught sight of him. He was paying his bill, still accompanied by the two Sturmführers. Then he said a noisy good-bye to the clerk and left the hotel without noticing Silbermann, who had stopped as soon as he saw his partner.
Now I’m done for, Silbermann thought, distraught. Becker’s going to cheat me out of my money, and then what? Beyond that he couldn’t say.
After a moment’s reflection he followed Becker, who was flanked by the Sturmführers and chatting with them as he strolled leisurely toward a taxi stand. Suddenly he came to an abrupt halt, turned around, and saw Silbermann ten steps behind him, staring at him with wide eyes and a half-open mouth. Becker gave a reluctant grimace and touched his hat. Silbermann hastily returned the greeting, relieved.
This is when I ought to go up to him, he thought, and ask what he’s done with my money, what does he think he’s doing, has he gone mad …
Silbermann took a step forward, then stopped, propped his foot against a wall, and fiddled with his shoelace. All of a sudden he was afraid of Becker, afraid of the power the other man had over him.
Be careful you don’t get yourself arrested, Silbermann told himself, or get yourself beaten up, that’s the last thing you need!
When he stood back up he saw Becker climbing into a taxi with the Sturmführers.
“Well, it’s off to Berlin,” Becker shouted out to Silbermann and waved good-bye.
“Thank God,” Silbermann sighed quietly to himself. He was moved. “Becker you good honest fellow you.” Then he was ashamed of his emotion, just as he had been ashamed of his earlier suspicion of Becker, and he decided that neither feeling had actually occurred.
He hailed a cab and went to the station, hoping to meet Becker there or later in the train. After he paid the fare he realized that he had only two twenty-mark bills left. If it weren’t for Becker, he consoled himself as he climbed up the stairs inside the station, I can only imagine how worried and scared I’d be.
Silbermann took care not to let Becker see him, and ultimately boarded a third-class car, even though he’d purchased a second-class ticket.
I don’t want him to feel I’m watching his every move, he thought tactfully, but he had to admit that he was also acting out of caution, since he wanted to avoid attracting the attention of his friend’s companions.
There was only one open seat in his compartment. Indifferently he surveyed the faces of his fellow passengers. Directly across from him was a man who was puffing away on a cigar of inferior quality. Silbermann guessed he was traveling on business. As the train left the station, the man stood up and made his way to the window, though not to say good-bye to someone, as Silbermann had thought, but to close it.
After half an hour the air in the compartment was full of caustic fumes that badly irritated Silbermann’s sinuses. When he could no longer stand it, he got up and took refuge in the dining car. He was also very hungry, as he’d left most of his steak on the plate in the restaurant, and so he treated himself to a large meal, since he was feeling encouraged that Becker was nearby and that he must have the money. After finishing his meal, Silbermann stayed in the dining car, but as he leafed halfheartedly through the Mitropa magazine, the old thoughts and worries came back.
About twenty minutes before the train was due in Berlin, he decided to fetch his hat and coat from the compartment, where he became an unwilling witness to a highly political discussion. The presumed businessman, who had earlier shut the window, was in the process of explaining the ins and outs of grand politics to the other occupants of the compartment.
Silbermann took his seat and tried to ignore the lecture, since he was already somewhat familiar with what was being said. He looked past the man sitting next to him, watched the rainy landscape rush by outside the window, and thought about his own affairs. More than anything else he was increasingly worried about the fate of his wife, whom he’d again tried calling from Hamburg, with no success. The last twenty minutes of the journey were a real torture.
What has happened to Elfriede? he asked himself anxiously. He didn’t understand how he could have gone to Hamburg without knowing for certain. At the same time I can’t let Becker get away, he thought, as his other problem again loomed oppressively large. To distract himself he finally started listening to the man expounding on politics, his voice hoarse from talking and smoking.
“Blood and iron,” he proclaimed, “those are what we use to achieve our political goals.” The way he stressed the “we” showed how glad he was of his affiliation, as if he were an important member of the government. “The Jews,” he continued, with raised voice, “used to say ‘Germany must become European.’ But today we say: ‘Europe must become German.’”
The others listened quietly, their faces registering either agreement or indifference.
“Don’t we want to open a window?” a modest voice asked at last.
“No,” said the man. “I have a bad cold.”
Confessing such a human foible undermined his hold on the others, and a window was opened despite his forceful protests. This in turn seemed to exacerbate his underlying rancor, and he immediately launched into a broad, unsparing attack on the Jews.
Silbermann stood up, put on his coat, and left the compartment. I’ll meet Becker in the office, he decided, and hurried through the corridors to the lead car, so he could be the first person out and avoid having to run into his friend.
As soon as the train came to a stop, he jumped down and hustled off the platform. On the lower level of the station hall he looked for a telephone booth in a renewed effort to reach his wife. As he had feared, the phone in his apartment again went unanswered.
He did reach Fräulein Gersch, however, who told him that an unexpected visit the previous evening had kept her from checking on Elfriede. So she had gone today around noon and had rung the doorbell and waited for ten minutes, but no one had answered.
Her report weighed heavily on Silbermann and he asked if she had inquired with the other tenants in the building.
No, unfortunately she hadn’t thought to do that, but she’d be glad to stop by again.
“Thank you,” said Silbermann, “I’ll go myself. I can’t stand this uncertainty. I absolutely have to find out what happened there.”
“I can only imagine how you’re feeling,” she said. “It’s a pity that my aunt chose to visit yesterday of all days. But call me again tonight at nine. Unfortunately I can’t get away at the moment, but I could go again around seven. Incidentally I also heard today that nothing happened to the women, that only men were arrested. So you don’t need to be worried. Just stay calm and wait until this evening. If you go there something unpleasant might happen to you. One of the tenants might report that you’ve come back…”
“Well, in any case many thanks,” Silbermann interrupted her. “With your permission I’ll ring again this evening. Good-bye.” Her consoling words had done little to ease his anxiety.
He decided to give his sister another call. She was home, but so frightened she could barely speak. When he suggested they meet in spite of everything, she cried out in terror.
“But we can’t meet in town, given the situation you’re in. And I can’t leave the apartment. I keep thinking they’re going to let Günther go. Every time the doorbell rings I jump, thinking it’s him. Because they can’t hold him for long, a fifty-six-year-old man. And I absolutely have to be here when he comes back.”
“But…” That’s not going to happen so quickly, he wanted to say. Nevertheless he kept quiet. Why should he take away her hope?
“Do you have an Aryan lawyer who might be able to intercede on his behalf?” he asked instead.
Yes she did.
“And money?”
That wasn’t a problem, either.
He said good-bye and hung up.
Where do I go now? he wondered. It would be more than careless to let Becker run around very long with over eighty thousand marks. It was already foolish of me to let him collect the payment, but then again, you have to show a partner and friend a little trust. Have to? Well, in any case, what’s done is done. But now it’s time to retrieve the money, otherwise he’ll get so used to having that kind of cash he won’t want to part with it. On the other hand, I really ought to go to our apartment right away, he then thought, before finally deciding that Becker was his first priority.
After all, he reassured himself, it’s also in Elfriede’s interest, and if she isn’t at home and is staying with a friend—which is far more likely—my presence there will be of no use. Whereas in Becker’s case if I don’t show up it can be downright harmful. And if by chance Elfriede is at home, she’ll still be there in an hour. I’ve worked myself into a dither for no reason.
He debated with himself like this for some time. Then a new thought occurred to him: Findler. He should have guessed he wouldn’t find the number, but he leafed awkwardly through the latest supplement to the phone book anyway. It had been only six weeks since Findler moved out of the guesthouse where he’d been staying up to that point, and into his own apartment, where he could come and go as he pleased while keeping down the expenses required to maintain his comfortable lifestyle. Just two days earlier Silbermann had jotted down the new number with red ink in one of his many notebooks—which were always on hand when there was something to write down, but never when something needed to be looked up—only now he was unable to remember it, after failing to find it in the phone book.
Instead, he tried calling the Kraus & Söhne firm, with whom Findler shared an office to save on rent. The entire office was small, and Findler had rented the smallest room, where he could be found from ten to twelve in the morning, eager to accommodate people who needed to borrow money and who possessed collateral—and where he also managed his properties. But the line was busy, and after trying to get through for two more minutes, Silbermann hurried out of the booth, when the matter of Becker again crossed his mind.
I should have called Findler a long time ago, Silbermann thought, as he left the station and approached a taxi. Naturally I forgot his number. All misfortune stems from forgetfulness.
He told the driver to go as fast as possible, and within just ten minutes the car pulled up to the office building where Silbermann had his firm. He paid the fare and went inside, checking to make sure the sign BECKER SCRAP AND SALVAGE CO. was in its place, as he’d been doing ever since someone had once unscrewed and stolen it. He rang for the elevator even though he could see it was on its way down.
I wonder if Becker’s already here, he thought.
The elevator stopped, and out stepped his employee Fräulein Windke, who evidently had something to attend to.
“Guten Tag, Fräulein Windke,” he greeted. “Is Herr Becker already here?”
“No,” she answered. Silbermann had the feeling she was very surprised to see him. “Herr Becker just called. He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
Silbermann thanked her and stepped into the elevator. As he was about to close the door he thought of the astonishment on her face. What was the matter with her? he wondered. Aha, she’s probably surprised that they still haven’t arrested me. He watched her walk away.
Do I even dare set foot in my own firm, he asked himself. What if Windke is phoning her fiancé. He’s an SA man, after all. As it is I have the feeling she has something against me. Ach—that’s nonsense. What do I care? Ridiculous. Surely I can go to my own office!
He closed the door, punched the button, and headed upstairs. But then he stopped the elevator at the second floor.
Better not, he thought. It’s more sensible if I wait for Becker in Café Hermann. You can never be sure … I really didn’t like the look on Windke’s face.
He rode back downstairs. “What times we live in,” he sighed as he left the elevator. He went out of the building, once again reading the name on his company’s sign: BECKER SCRAP AND SALVAGE CO.
Becker, he thought. Indeed! Pretty soon I won’t have any business coming here. My lovely private office. And to think the desk I needed finally arrived just fourteen days ago. And I ordered a new switchboard as well. This year to date I’ve invested three thousand marks in office equipment and typewriters and all that kind of thing. And I have no doubt we would have pulled off the deal with Heppel, which I’ve been working on for five months. The real business is just starting to happen, and I would have easily gotten the loan from the Dresdner Bank. What a disaster! Now everything will go to Elmberg & Co. If only I’d sold a year ago. But no, I just sat comfortably in my office, year after year, thinking life would simply go on like that forever … I had no idea. And that’s the truth!
In a gloomy mood he crossed the street and went into Café Hermann, where he often stopped for a bite in the morning and coffee in the afternoon. He ordered a beer and began keeping a close watch on the opposite side of the street—which made for an excruciating half hour.
If it hadn’t meant giving up his seat by the window, he might have rung up Becker in his apartment, because it seemed likely that Becker had reconsidered the matter and instead of going into the office he might simply call to learn if there was anything new.
Silbermann was getting more and more worked up. Here I am sitting right across from my own company and I don’t dare step inside. And I’m the owner! The sole owner! It took me years of hard work to build it up, and now—now every apprentice has more say-so than I do! I can’t dismiss my employees when it suits me, but they can denounce their boss whenever it strikes their fancy and have me sent to a concentration camp. It’s like I’m some kind of schnorrer, begging from the people whose wages I pay.
Soon I’ll be forced to ask: How is Apprentice Werner feeling today? Did he have a good night’s rest? Is he in a good mood? Or maybe he’s just fed up with me in every respect—as a person, a Jew, and as his boss. Perhaps he’s taking his cues from some seventeen-year-old Hitler Youth squad leader? Silbermann laughed angrily.
And this Fräulein Windke, he thought, prancing from one pay raise to the next, because her fiancé is also a little führer! Come to think of it, she has no real reason even to speak with me—after all, nobody expects her to—so the fact that she does just shows what a magnanimous person she is!
Klissnik the accountant, on the other hand, isn’t inclined to make any effort whatsoever, no … The fellow permits himself to show up late every third day. And because he’s an Aryan he can get away with it! On top of that I’m sure he’ll demand a raise and I’ll have no choice but to give him one!
What am I supposed to do to gain the goodwill of my employees and keep them happy? I can hardly make each one a partner!
Silbermann angrily drummed his fingers against the window. “That’s it,” he snarled. “I’m shutting down the business. I’ve had enough!”
Just then his friend’s familiar gabardine coat appeared on the opposite side of the street. Having already paid for his beer, Silbermann jumped up, hurried outside, and rushed across to Becker. Becker saw him coming and waited calmly for Silbermann to approach.
“I’ve spent hours wondering what happened!” Silbermann groaned when he reached his friend. “You have no idea! Did it all work out?”
They shook hands.
“Are you coming up?” Becker asked, and then right away answered his own question. “Better not.”
They went into the café that Silbermann had just left. On the way Becker talked about his trip, how much they’d drunk, how great it had been, and what a pity it was that Silbermann couldn’t have met the two Nazis, who were splendid fellows even if they were stinking anti-Semites. Then they sat down.
Becker crossed his arms, looked expectantly at Silbermann, and said, not without a trace of arrogance, “So, out with it! Why did you come chasing after me? Probably got scared, eh?”
“Do you have the money?” Silbermann asked, without answering the question.
“First tell me what’s going on with you,” Becker demanded aggressively.
“Haven’t you heard what they’re doing to Jews?”
“You mean these incidents…”
“They attacked us in our apartment. I was barely able to escape. Findler was there, he stopped them.”
“Really?” Becker acknowledged with indifference. “The main thing is that nothing happened to you. By the way, did you sell that old shark your building?”
“Ten thousand marks down payment!”
Becker shook his head. “Ten thousand marks! What on earth got into you?”
“Just tell me: how did things go? Why didn’t you speak to me in Hamburg, and why were you traveling with those Sturmführers?”
“One thing at a time.” Becker began his report. “So, naturally those junk-dealing Jews caused trouble. You know how they wheel and deal. This time it was on account of the riots and so on. So I said to myself: Becker, you’ve never been a match for these people, and I quickly rang up a friend of mine in Berlin. Then he came to Hamburg along with another one. And when they showed up this morning wearing their uniforms, well, that was all it took, those Jews signed right away! Naturally I raised the price by five grand. You see how I do business? I’m counting the five thousand as travel expenses.”
Becker gave a proud, contented laugh and placed his broad, heavy hand gently on Silbermann’s shoulder. Silbermann brushed it angrily away.
“That was extortion!” he stated slowly.
“How else do you want to do business with Jews like that?” asked Becker, offended. “They told me they wanted to get out of Germany. Their relatives had been arrested, and they kept going on and on. I took it all in very calmly, and finally I said: but you’ve already purchased the ship—and endorsed the transfer order from the Reichsbank!—you have to take it! ‘Well,’ said old man Levi—you know what a smooth talker he is—‘I’m not sure we’re still allowed to do business. And government intervention counts as a force majeure, we have no choice.’ I don’t give a damn about that, I answered, you have to take the ship! Then he started to fuss. ‘First I need to make some inquiries.’ Straightaway I had the boys come over, and lo and behold: everything went smooth as silk. Fool that I was, I should have asked for ten thousand marks more. They were so scared they gave me a cashier’s check right on the spot, although I’m sure they would have preferred to have eked out another two days’ interest. But we know those tricks. At first it’s all brash talk, but once you take a swing there’s nothing to back it up. A lot of whining, that’s all.”
“You didn’t exactly behave decently,” Silbermann said sharply.
“I’m not going to get ruined by some filthy Jew! What do I care if they’re having difficulties? Why do they do these outrageous things, murdering diplomatic secretaries and so on. If they shoot at people they have to count on the fact that people are going to shoot back. And whoever sticks his stupid snout out is going to get hit. I’m telling you: I don’t care if there are three pogroms happening at once! I’m not going to get taken in by any Jews because of that, not by a long shot. So don’t be coming to me looking for sympathy!”
“You’re completely forgetting,” Silbermann said, agitated, “that the person sitting across from you is a Jew. You spend two hours with these people from the party and you start behaving like a—swine.”
“That’s enough,” said Becker, his eyes bulging the way they always did when he was mad. “You aren’t my superior anymore, understand? The times have changed a bit. I’ve put up with a lot from you, more than from anyone else. But just because I’ve always been considerate, you get cocky, that’s just like a Jew. What do you think you’re living off, hm? Who closed the last deals? Where would you be if I hadn’t been so decent as to take the lead? You think you can impress me with your big mouth? Mine is just as big. So, now I’ve said what I wanted to say!”
“Gustav, you have to send back the five thousand marks. That’s extortion plain and simple!”
“And the way I saved your capital is completely on the up and up? Jews always stick together. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Because you’re afraid that a Jew—and one worth millions at that—might lose his money, you want to take away mine! That’s also typically Jewish!”
“But Gustav, be reasonable for a moment! Do you really want to turn into a criminal in your old age?”
“Spare me your lectures on morality. Other people do exactly what I’m doing. Everybody uses whatever advantage he has, but you expect me to be an idealist, is that right? As if you hadn’t made a fortune off the bad luck of others. Now your own luck has turned bad, and we’re the ones making money. But that’s something completely different, is that right? No, my friend, it’s only fair. You may have shrewder heads, but we have harder fists and we’re in the majority. Actually you should be glad I don’t blab on you! So don’t be telling me things. You think I’ve forgotten how you used to take advantage of me? As your authorized representative all I ever earned was three hundred marks. And how much did you make? Because I happen to know!”
“You are the most ungrateful person I’ve ever met! I’d like to know what would have become of you if I hadn’t hired you right after the war. And now you hold it against me that as the head of the company I earned more than you did? After all it was my money I was working with and not yours, wasn’t it?”
“And where did you get your money from?”
“From my father and my own work. I can honestly say that I earned it!”
“And now I’m starting to earn money for myself. All these years I’ve watched how other people lived. Now it’s my turn! I should have squeezed old Levi for fifty thousand marks! Oh was I ever dumb!” Becker was getting more and more worked up. “Too nice, I’m just too nice. We’re simply no match for you Jews, that’s what it is.”
Faced with this spontaneous but not exactly blind hatred, it took a while for Silbermann to find the right response.
“You’ve known me for twenty-three years,” he then said slowly, “through war and peacetime…”
“Don’t come to me with that old song!”
“Gustav, if you weren’t … the way things are now, if you were a man of character, then you would…”
“Stop with all this blathering. You think I’m that stupid? Now you’ve gone and shown your true colors! You’d be happy to rob your friends to help some lousy rich old Jew! People of your kind can’t even have friends unless they’re Jewish.”
“Did you drink too much? Or did you lose money gambling? Gustav, what’s gotten into you? Judging from all your moral outrage, I take it you have some other dirty tricks in mind.”
“Dirty tricks? I don’t give a damn how you see it. I just want to tell you point-blank that our friendship is over. From now on each of us is doing his own deals. We no longer have anything to do with each other!”
“Gustav, what on earth is the matter with you? You can’t fool me. Do you think I can’t tell how hard you’re trying to sound enraged?”
Silbermann probably shouldn’t have said that, because now Becker really became furious. His face turned alarmingly red before he regained control of himself.
“This is too much,” he snapped, with feigned obstinacy. “You insulted me … you followed me … you mistrusted me … so now I’ll give you a reason to do so! Because we’re through, we’re finished! You can have Becker Scrap and Salvage Co. I’m giving up my shares, I don’t want to keep a single one, even though I lent my name. So kindly make sure it’s removed immediately. That’s right! And as for the eighty thousand marks, we’re splitting that. That’s the simplest thing. And in return you get all your shares back. And then we’re done with each other.”
He said that as harshly as he could, but his voice was trembling, and Silbermann, who was at first taken aback by the bold proposition, had the impression that the other man was practically desperate, forcing himself to utter each of his nasty proclamations. It seemed to him that Becker felt obliged to prove that he was equal to the times, rather than following his own volition, his own conviction.
“Gustav,” Silbermann said quietly, “why are you so intent on becoming a scoundrel? It doesn’t suit you at all.”
“You tell me,” Becker asked, switching to his normal voice, “am I not within my rights? A person only gets one chance in life. And I’ve never had one! So now I have to take advantage of it.”
“You’re mad,” said Silbermann. “You sniveling swindler!”
“Shut up. If I were mean I could say: Jew! So, do you agree to the separation proposal? Because if you don’t, then I’ll go ahead and keep everything. Another person in my situation would certainly do that. But I’m just soft in the head.”
“You want to steal my money that I entrusted you with?”
“The payment is written out in my name.”
“I’m not talking about the payment, don’t play dumb. I trusted you, Gustav. And I still do. Enough of these bad jokes.”
“Jokes? I know how you can twist your tongue. That’s why you’re a Jew. But I’ve made up my mind and you’re not going to talk me out of it!”
“There are laws!”
Becker laughed scornfully. “If threats are what you want,” he said, “I’m in a far better position than you.”
“Gustav, it’s not the money I’m concerned about, well yes, I’m concerned about that as well, but there’s more at stake. Please believe me! I simply can’t bear to see a man like you become a miserable lowlife and blackmailer. There still have to be people who maintain their decency and humanity no matter what opportunities might come their way. Who don’t turn into swine just because they see a puddle they might wallow in.”
“I am a decent person,” Becker said without conviction. “On that point I insist.”
“Well, you were at one time. Tell me, do you find it easy to break your word?”
“What word? I don’t know anything about any word. Stop talking so much. Either accept my proposal or don’t.”
“I don’t! If someone robs you and then you agree to take back half of what he stole, that makes you an accomplice to the theft.”
Becker jumped up. “I’m warning you,” he growled, switching to the formal Sie. “That’s enough of all this wheeling and dealing!”
“I’ll get you sent to jail,” Silbermann declared. He was so agitated he was no longer weighing his words. “And I’ll tell everyone I know about your dirty extortion. I’ll denounce you to your party. I have no doubt that they’ll take the money away from you. Because when it comes to robbing Jews they claim exclusive rights. They don’t tolerate unfair competition. You’ll see who you’re dealing with yet, you disgraceful crook!”
“I’ve always known you were a low-down shyster,” Becker retorted. He had sat back down and was once again using the familiar Du. “Do you even know what you are? A nervous little Jew quivering over his money. If I were like you, I wouldn’t give you a penny, I’d simply have you sent straight to the concentration camp. Where you could denounce me as much as you like.”
“Do you remember what you said to me yesterday, Gustav? You spoke of friendship!”
“I’ve seen what kind of friend you are. Why do I always have to be the stupid nice guy?”
“You don’t believe a word of what you’re saying.”
“But I’m supposed to believe you, is that right? You slick talker, you. Who sent in a false tax declaration, eh? Who bought the building on Kantstraße for a song during the inflation? Was it me? Do you remember how you were the only one to get leave in 1917? And why was that? Because you had purchased war bonds. Something the rest of us couldn’t afford…”
“Are you telling me you wouldn’t have done that if you could have? Are you trying to hold me responsible for the entire system? For the fact that there are social differences? Reproaching me for having money? So that you can justify robbing me? And for a few days of extra leave, for a minor instance of injustice, you want to pull off a major swindle? You’re scolding me for being a capitalist? You? Who want to become one by any means including the slimiest? Don’t be a fool, Gustav. It’s enough that you’ve become a scoundrel.”
“I’m just using my advantage, just as you’ve taken advantage of your situation. That’s all,” Becker said casually.
“There is egoism that is justified and egoism that is not. There are limits!”
“Now you want to tell me what’s justified and what isn’t? Everything you did was well and good, and everything I do is wrong? I’ll say it again: I’m simply taking advantage of my situation!”
“There were times when my situation would have made it easy for me to steal another man’s wallet. But I can honestly say I never did!”
“You were also always a rich man! That a wealthy merchant doesn’t steal a silver spoon is no reason for him to flatter himself.”
“Agreed. But I’m not talking about silver spoons. Don’t try to be clever, Gustav, that’s just too much. You know very well that all my business dealings were absolutely impeccable and that I’ve always acted properly.”
“Meaning I haven’t? More decently than you in any case. At least I haven’t threatened to send you to jail!”
“You couldn’t have. You wouldn’t have had any reason.”
“In 1930 you paid four thousand marks less than you should have in taxes, and in 1926 it was as much as nine thousand marks.”
“In the first place that’s not true, and in the second place everyone does that.”
“Well, taxes were always taken out of my three hundred marks.”
Silbermann lit a cigarette. “You’re being a scoundrel and you know it,” he said, exhausted. “And even if I really had dodged the tax, that by no means justifies your abusing my trust. After all, you’re my friend, and I’ve never been friends with the tax office. And even the most decent person would rather pay too little taxes than too much. Only a criminal, like yourself…”
“I’m warning you, don’t start up again. And now I’m asking you for the last time: do you agree to the proposal or not? If you refuse, then I’ll leave the whole amount with a notary until the matter is decided, since I own fifty-one percent of the shares. I’ll simply dissolve the company. And any remaining assets will be divided one way or the other.”
Silbermann tried once again to change Becker’s mind. “Gustav,” he said slowly. “You can’t possibly do that! Look, that would be…”
Becker stood up theatrically. “I consider our conversation ended,” he said formally. “I’m now going to the notary and will deposit the money there. I feel all the more compelled to do so because you, as I happen to know, intend to leave the country. Consequently there is a danger that if you get hold of the funds you might transfer them abroad. This way, however, your share of the company will be placed in a blocked account. Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Silbermann!”
He actually made a move to leave.
“I accept,” said Silbermann. “But I will never understand how you”—here he corrected himself and switched to the formal Sie—“how you could do something like this. In stealing from me you are dirtying yourself. Disgusting!”
Becker was visibly on edge. “Would you finally shut up with all your dumb talk,” he muttered gruffly. “Don’t take me for such a sentimental fool. Money has no smell,” he quipped. “Because if it smelled like you, I wouldn’t take it at all.”
Becker placed his briefcase on the table and Silbermann looked on without interrupting as he drafted a deed of partition. Now and then he glanced in his notebook, which led Silbermann to believe that Becker had previously had his lawyer spell out the various points, and had therefore been entertaining the idea for some time.
“Actually your portion would amount to only forty-one thousand marks,” Becker said after a while, “since you only have forty-nine percent of the shares.”
“Yes, and you have fifty-one, for which you didn’t pay a penny. Which you are supposed to administer as trustee, according to our agreement.”
Becker testily put down his pen. “Is there anything else you’d like to say?” he asked sharply.
“The only legally valid agreement is the partnership! As you are undoubtedly aware. Or would you like to declare in a court of law that the agreement was a fiction?”
“Stop talking this nonsense, you! Or else I might feel forced to…”
“To what?” asked Silbermann. “If it came to a trial, you would lose miserably. You can be sure of that. After all, there is our written correspondence. I still have your letter in which you affirm our oral agreement. I even have it … wait a moment … yes—I even have it on me.”
Becker tossed down his pen. “It’s good you’re bringing this up now,” he said. “That’s fine with me. Let’s take the matter to court. If you were to win—assuming that you really would win—what would that bring you? First you’d already be a guest in a concentration camp, you can bet your life on that. And as for your money? Everything would be in a blocked account, and by the time the matter made its way through the courts all Jewish property would have long been seized. And then there’s the billion-mark atonement levy. So be my guest, let’s take this to trial.” He stood up once again.
“Idiot,” Silbermann said, with disdain. “On top of everything else, you expect me to cheer you on, is that it?”
Becker sat down again. “What you should do is shut up,” he said. Then he continued writing and muttered, “I won’t put up with your taunting. You … you are far too common, too coarse for my taste!”
Despite his indignation and distress, Silbermann couldn’t help laughing.
Becker finished his draft and handed it to Silbermann to look over.
Silbermann merely glanced through it and said, “I see you’ve mastered the technical side of theft as well as the theoretical. Should I sign this, or do we want to have it notarized?”
“It’s already six thirty,” Becker stated. “The notary will be closed, but if you sign the contract and the receipt—naturally you’ll receive a counter-receipt from me—and if you hand me the letter, I’ll pay you your share right away. You can keep the company shell, as long as my name is removed. There are hardly any liabilities, and in any case they’ll be fully covered by what’s in the postal checking and bank accounts. As far as the receivables are concerned, well, I’ll let you have fun with that. I don’t think you’ll get Ollmann to pay, now that nothing’s left … Apart from that there aren’t any. You have methodically dismantled the business. If it were up to you, in half a year I would be penniless and you’d be in Paris. I’m not completely stupid.”
“I didn’t dismantle anything, we just took the entire capital in order to … but it’s pointless to talk about it. Here is your letter.”
Becker opened his briefcase, took out a few packets of bills, and began to count.
“Forty-one thousand five hundred marks,” he said, when he was finally finished. “So there, I gave you fifty percent after all. Be so kind as to count it.” Then he bent over the table and whispered confidentially, “See that you manage to get it over the border.”
“Spare me your advice,” Silbermann said dismissively.
After they finished the transaction, Becker sighed. “No offense, Otto,” he said, suddenly lapsing back into the old, friendly tone. “Once I really start winning, you know my system, you’ll get your money back with interest. Yesterday I lost nine thousand marks because I had to stop too early. But now I’m going to win back every penny I ever lost.”
Silbermann stood up abruptly. “For a real villain,” he said, “you’re lacking in flair. And for a decent human being, but above all for a friend, you’re decidedly too slimy for my taste.”
He walked out of the café. Becker watched him, taken aback.
The Jew isn’t all that wrong, he thought. But I have to pay my debts once and for all. I can’t cheat the people out of their money. This last moral consideration calmed him once again. A pity, though, he went on thinking, as he left the café, we were friends for so long—I’ll make up for it all eventually!