The Lisbon Crossing (4 page)

“What next?” I said, and Catela shifted uneasily in his seat. Ritter smiled broadly and reached across the table to fill my glass from a bottle of very old cognac he was hoarding. I didn’t say no.

“An excellent question, Mr. Teller,” he said, filling Catela’s glass, too. “The Wehrmacht has done in three weeks what Hindenburg and Ludendorff could not do in four years. Those days of the trenches are happily over and you have now witnessed the birth of modern warfare. So your question is exactly right. What next? I believe there are no limits.” He raised his glass. “Heil Hitler.”

I raised mine. “Being from a neutral country, maybe I should add Churchill to that.” Ritter paused with his glass halfway to his lips.

“Churchill is a fool,” he said.

I shrugged. “To conquerors and fools, then.”

I knocked the drink back and it burned sweetly. Ritter laughed heartily and threw his back, too. Catela took a gentlemanly sip, looked at his watch, and nervously surveyed the room.

“Don’t take it personally,” I said. “She’s always late. It’s compulsory star behavior.”

“I am happy to wait all night,” he said with undisguised enthusiasm.

“Good, because that’s not out of the question,” I replied.

“What brings the great Lili Sterne to Lisbon?” Ritter asked bluntly.

“Sightseeing,” I said, and he laughed.

“There are many people doing many things in Lisbon at this time,” he said. “Sightseeing is not one of them.”

“She’s a big history buff, and it seems that Lisbon has quite a history,” I said. “Did you know that Portugal is the oldest nation-state in Europe?”

“No, I wasn’t aware of it.” Ritter yawned.

“Sure. It was founded in 1139. Three hundred and fifty years before Spain.”

“Fascinating,” he said, settling back into grimness.

“But it goes back a lot further than that,” I went on. “Legend has it that Ulysses himself founded the city, although there’s no evidence of that. It was probably the Phoenicians, I forget what century, but they were tossed out by the Greeks, which gives you an idea. The Carthaginians got rid of them and stayed until 200
B.C.
when the Romans took over. They were here for a couple of centuries, until the Moors came up from Morocco. They held the city for a while until the Christians laid siege for four hundred years until finally…I hope I’m not boring you, Colonel. I just thought with your interest in history…”

“Major,” he corrected me. “And I’m sure Lisbon has a fascinating history, but I must leave you now.”

He stood up and Catela sprang to his feet, too. It had nothing to do with Ritter, though. He’d spotted Lili gliding toward the table, in full flow. She was stunning in slinky sequins and I found myself standing up, as well, as though royalty was approaching. Everyone in the room was trying hard not to look starstruck, without much success. Lili left a trail of whispers in her wake. Even Ritter looked impressed. I noticed a slight break in her concentration when she spotted him, but no one else did.

“I’ve kept you waiting…” She offered her hand to Catela, who promptly smothered it with his lips.

“A pleasure,” was all he could bring himself to say.

“Thank you for sending the flowers, Captain. It was very thoughtful of you.”

Catela could only nod his head up and down. I think he was literally struck dumb. Lili turned to Major Ritter and gave him a dubious look.

“Allow me to present—” Catela began, but Ritter stepped forward and took her hand without it being offered.

“Guten Abend, Fräulein. Sturmbannführer Heinrich Ritter.”
Lili pulled her hand away and he performed a well-executed bow instead.
“Ich hatte das Vergnuegen, eine Vorfuehrung von Ihnen 1922 in Berlin zu sehen. Eine schoene Erinnerung.”

“Berlin was a long time ago,” she said. “The world has changed.”

“Zum Besseren. Wuerden Sie dem nicht zustimmen?”

“I’m sorry, Major,” Lili said, ice-cold. “I’ve forgotten my German, and it’s rude to speak it when no one else understands what is being said.”

The major sniffed and turned noticeably red, as if she’d slapped him in the face. He finally smiled awkwardly and tried to answer in a jocular tone.

“Vielleicht waere es eine gute Idee, wenn die anderen es lernen wuerden—Und fuer Sie, sich zu erinnern.”

I pretended not to understand, but, of course, I did.

I never told Lili
that I was born in Berlin. I’m not sure why—you’d think that growing up within a few miles of each other would be worth mentioning, but I guess I didn’t have anything to say about it. My childhood was remote, unfamiliar, as if it was a collection of borrowed memories—fleeting images of my mother before she got ill, my brother’s face at the window on the day I left. But they were just snapshots. They didn’t move and they didn’t speak to me. I didn’t feel any more German than I did Chinese.

It hadn’t been a conscious effort. I think when I hit New York, I was trying so hard to be just another kid from the neighborhood—taking on a new name, a new look, a new way of talking—that in the process I wiped out my past, without really meaning to. Or maybe it wasn’t as profound as that. Maybe I was just so busy surviving that I lost track. I suppose if you don’t visit a memory from time to time, it eventually dies of neglect. Or gets buried so deep that it might as well be dead. At any rate, I didn’t delve into my childhood, and this wasn’t the place to start, so I pretended not to understand that the major had said, “Perhaps it would be wise of them to learn—and for you to remember.”

A
s soon as Ritter took his leave, Catela started snapping his fingers at every waiter in the room, spouting off a series of commands in rapid-fire Portuguese. Each waiter nodded dutifully, bowed, and backed away from the table, scurrying off to do whatever it was he’d been charged with. Copious plates of food and bottles of wine and champagne started arriving shortly thereafter, allowing Catela to turn his attention to Lili.

He started with a rehearsed speech:

“May I say what an honor it is to be sitting here, with you, at this table?” He raised his glass. “You are even more beautiful than I could have thought possible.”

“Please, Captain,” Lili said, puncturing his bubble. “This will be a very long dinner if you’re going to gush all the way through it. Let’s have a drink while you tell me how you can help me find Eva Lange.” She withdrew a cigarette from her sparkling bag, tapped it a couple of times, then placed it between bright red lipstick lips.

Catela sat there for a beat with a silly grin on his face before fumbling for a light. He probably expected a couple of hours of flirting before getting down to business. Lili wasn’t in the mood for flirting.

“Yes,” he finally said, clearing his throat a couple of times. “Yes, of course. I hope we can find this woman…”

“Eva Lange,” Lili repeated.

“Yes, Eva Lange. I hope we can find her. But, as I have said this morning to Senhor Teller, these things can be very difficult in Lisbon at this time. I’m sure you understand that there are many—”

“You’ve checked the records?” she interrupted coolly.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, making it obvious that he hadn’t even considered it. “I’m afraid there is no information that anyone of that name—”

“Eva Lange,” Lili reiterated. “Her name is Eva Lange.”

“Yes. Eva Lange. No information that she has ever entered or departed from Lisbon.” He shrugged sympathetically. “It is possible,
of course, that your information is incorrect and your friend has never been here.”

“She was here,” Lili said emphatically, exhaling smoke. “I’m sure of it.”

“Is it not possible that your employee, Mr. Grimes, has made an identification error? There is a great deal of confusion in our city at the moment…”

“That’s why I need your help,” Lili said flatly, before abruptly changing gears. “Surely a man of your importance can cut through all the confusion.”

Catela basked in the compliment. “Let me assure you that I will do all that is in my power. If she is in Lisbon, I promise you, she will be found. In the meantime, I hope you will allow me to be your host.” The captain seemed to think that he could palm us off with French champagne and double-talk.

“It would help if we could see Eddie Grimes’s notebook,” I interjected, seeing my opening.

Catela smiled patronizingly. “As I told you, Senhor Teller, we have found no notebook.”

“I’d like to have a look in the car,” I said.

He looked at me like I was nuts. “Even if you are correct, this car has been in o Boca do Inferno for more than two weeks. Do you really believe these papers will be worth something?”

“You never know,” I said, realizing how feeble it sounded, adding, “We’d be happy to pay whatever cost is involved, if that’s the problem.”

“Cost is not a concern,” he said, dismissing my bribery attempt with a sneer.

Lili frowned. “What the hell is ‘o Boca do Inferno’?”

“Eddie Grimes drove off a cliff, a couple of miles up the road,” I said. “A place called o Boca do Inferno.”

“The Mouth of Hell,” Catela helpfully translated.

“And you want to get the car out?”

“We don’t have much else to go on.” I shrugged.

Lili swung around on Catela. “Can you arrange it, Captain?”

“Of course,” he said without a hint of hesitation. “I will be most happy to have it done, as a service to you. You see? I am your servant. You must only ask, and I will do.”

That kind of treatment was nothing new to Lili. She thanked him, then picked over her food while we listened to a long-winded account of the captain’s fascinating and inevitable rise to power and influence. I excused myself after the main course, to Catela’s obvious delight and Lili’s look of betrayal. The captain informed me that if I wanted to see Grimes’s car come out of the water, I should be at the cliffs at dawn when the tide was at its lowest point. I told Lili that I’d check it out and return directly to the hotel to let her know what, if anything, we’d found.

T
he Estoril Casino seemed to be the after-dinner spot, so I went along to mingle with the money and soak up the atmosphere. Located just across from the Palacio, the large, modern building was perched atop a small hill, facing the sea, its clean white walls bathed in a spectrum of soft-colored lights. It was a fine, balmy evening, and I enjoyed the taste of the salt air as I wandered up the slope.

I’d been surprised at how quickly Catela had folded, but I shouldn’t have been, not after spending time in Hollywood. Something about being up there on that silver screen transformed everyday flesh and blood into modern-day deities, immortals who constantly found, and came to expect, humble offerings being laid at their feet. I guess they didn’t call them matinee idols for nothing. Still, I felt kind of sorry for Lili. It looked like our story was heading for a sad ending and it was obvious that her childhood friend meant something to her. As far as I could tell, aside from her star status, she didn’t have much else that did.

I entered the casino and was stopped by a thin rake of a man with a beak for a nose and thick glasses that made his eyes look like they were bulging out of his head. He was standing behind a counter that ran the length of the lobby.

“Excuse me, senhor…”

“Me?” I said, even though it was obvious who he was addressing.

“Yes, senhor. If you please…” He gestured me over. “May I see your membership card, please.”

“I haven’t got one.”

“I’m afraid, then, that I cannot allow you to enter…”

“Nobody else has one,” I noted, indicating the dozens of well-dressed heels that were passing through on their way to the tables.

“I know them,” he said with a smirk.

“All of them?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see,” I said. “Do I look that scruffy?”

“Excuse me, senhor?”

“Never mind.” The only reason I’d been going in was to pass the time, but now I was determined. “How do I get a membership card?”

“I will need to see your identification documents…” I reached for my passport. “And you must pay five hundred dollars.”

“Five hundred dollars?” I repeated.

“Yes, senhor.”

“Five hundred American dollars?” I said, just to be sure.

“That’s correct. Five hundred American dollars.”

I was about to swallow my pride and beat a retreat when a voice came up behind me—

“Este é Senhor Teller, Luis! Está viajando com Senhorita Lili Sterne e teve apenas o jantar com capitão Catela…”

I turned to see the grinning face of a slightly rumpled middle-aged man, late thirties, I guessed. He was a portly fellow with a twinkle in his eye and an unmistakable English accent, even when he was speaking Portuguese. He winked at me.

“I just told him who you are.”

“Desculpel, senhor,”
the rake pleaded. “Please forgive me, I have not known…Please, you must accept my apology…” I thought
I’d better let him off the hook before he got down on his knees.

“Forget it,” I said. “No harm done.”

“É muito zangado!”
the smiling Englishman said as he led me away. “I just told him you’re furious. Won’t sleep a wink tonight, the bastard. Quite right, too. Harry K. Thompson, the
Times.
You’ve seen my byline. Happy to be of service.”

“Jack Teller,” I said.

“That’s right,” he confirmed. “Bit of luck, really, isn’t it? Now you can give me an exclusive on what the devil Lili Sterne is doing in Lisbon when Europe’s on the verge of collapse. Just kidding, of course. I mean about the exclusive, not about Europe being on the verge of collapse. It is. What
is
she doing in Lisbon, anyway?”

“What makes you think she’s in Lisbon?”

“Don’t blame you, old chap,” he laughed. “Not a bit. I wouldn’t trust me either.” He led me into the main gaming room and to a long circular bar in front of the roulette tables. The sound of the wheel turning, diamonds clinking, and money changing hands was accompanied by a lonely pianist playing Rachmaninoff on a baby grand in the far corner.

“What are you having?” Thompson, asked and I ordered scotch, neat. He ordered brandy and ginger. “Well, here’s to the fiddlers on the
Titanic.
If you’re going down, you might as well have background music.”

“To Nero,” I said.

“Quite!” We downed them in one and I called for another round.

“So…” Harry smiled mischievously. “What’s my lead, then?”

“How about ‘Englishman Fiddles About While Europe Collapses’?”

“Don’t like that one much,” he sneered. “How about Hollywood Star with German Origins in Clandestine Meeting with Gestapo Major’?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” I said. “Besides, I thought the
Times
was a serious newspaper.”

“Freelance, actually,” he confessed. “I’ll be anybody’s whore. And that includes
Variety.
”

“That sounds like a threat, Harry.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Jack. Not without pictures.” He took a healthy swallow of the incoming brandy. “The truth is I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about Lili Sterne, but I’m a bit desperate. This war-correspondent stuff doesn’t suit me. I’m more of a human-interest kind of guy.”

“There are plenty of humans in Lisbon,” I said.

“Debatable, old chap. Highly debatable. But let’s not get carried away with my troubles! Tell me about yours! What about this chap Eddie Grimes?”

“Eddie Grimes?”

“Come on, Jack, let’s not be silly. Everybody in Lisbon knows he was working for Lili Sterne. What was he up to?”

“Off the record?”

“Absolutely!”

“Never heard of him.”

“Bastard!” He smiled. “All right. How about an exchange of information. It’s a popular pastime around here.”

“What would you have that’d interest me?”

“That’s it, you’ve got the hang of it already. How about the fact that your good friend Capitão Catela isn’t pulling that car out of the sea because you want him to. Not even because Lili Sterne wants him to.”

“You’re well informed,” I said, genuinely impressed.

“That’s the job, old boy.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why’s Catela pulling the car out?”

“You have to promise to give me something,” Harry said, popping his empty glass on the bar for a refill.

“Like why Lili Sterne is in Lisbon?”

“That’s how the game is played.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“Right! Captain Catela is pulling Eddie Grimes out of the drink because…” He leaned over and finished in a mock whisper. “Sturm
bannführer Heinrich Ritter asked him to. Or should I say told him to?”

“Ritter?”

“That’s right. Your friendly neighborhood Gestapo officer.”

“Why would Ritter care about Eddie Grimes?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t. But he cares very much about Hans Kleinmann.”

“Who’s Hans Kleinmann?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolded, collecting his third drink. “Your turn.”

“Okay. Lili’s trying to locate a childhood friend, somebody she grew up with in Berlin. Eddie Grimes found her here, or thought he did, anyway. He was supposed to take her back to the States, but he drove off a cliff instead.”

“And you’re taking his place?”

“Up to a point,” I said. “I don’t plan on driving off any cliffs.”

Thompson nodded thoughtfully. “Touching, but hardly front page, is it?”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“That it’s touching or that it’s not front page?”

“If it got into print, I might end up going over that cliff, after all. What about this Kleinmann character?”

“Ah, yes! Dr. Hans Kleinmann. He’s attached to the German embassy here. Some sort of state secretary, I think, whatever that means.”

“What’s he got to do with Eddie Grimes?”

“He disappeared a couple of weeks ago. Same night as your detective friend. That’s why Ritter’s here. To get to the bottom of it.” Harry swallowed the last of his brandy, but I could see that he was watching me over the lip of the glass.

“Why would Ritter think this guy’s disappearance had anything to do with Grimes?”

“Haven’t the slightest,” Harry said. “Care to hazard a guess?”

“Not really.”

“He’s probably just fishing—so to speak.” He slid off his chair,
catching his balance on the bar. “You’ll have to let me know how it turns out. Nice talking to you, Jack, but I think I’ll go home now. I feel I’ll be falling over soon and I’d like to be near my bed when it happens.”