124
PARTISAN REVIEW
His eyes, heretofore wide and white, now narrowed to glittering slits.
"Can this be true?"
"I took photographs. I admit it. Of cultural monuments. Of tourist
attractions."
Giinsche: "There were also photographs of the abandoned synagogues
and of our German folk. Also of strategic intersections and an electrical
substation. We have discovered the prints hidden in his luggage. We have
been forced to conclude we may be dealing here with an adventurer, or
more likely a spy."
"You searched my luggage? But that is outrageous
l
By what right was
that done? Who gave such orders? Besides, I took no pictures of syna–
gogues. This is a complete misunderstanding." So speaking, I backed away
from the others, toward the staircase. There was, in the back of my brain ,
a whirring sound, a kind of whine - no, not in my brain , from somewhere
in the building.
Goebbels: "Seize the Jew. He might have a weapon."
"What Jew? Ha-ha. I am a practitioner of judo, not Judaism. Here is
Moto. Ally from Japan!"
Hitler went pale. "A weapon;> We can't take chances. What if they
want to harm Fraulein Mezaray? And put the blame on me. I know these
tricks! Anything to create a scandal. Search him
l "
Giinsche made a motion with his hand. Three of the SS men stepped
forward.
"Stop!" The order, amazingly enough, came from Alexander Granite.
"You forget that I know a show when I see it. This has all been an act, the
screaming, the screeching, the threats. It's all been staged because you want
my business. All right. You can have it. Every Granite property left in
Europe. Give me the pen. The paper. I will sign."
With that the old man limped to the table and pulled out a chair.
Goebbels, his own limp disguised by his built- up shoe, moved quickly to
sit down beside him. He took an ebony pen from its holder and signed in
three places. Then, while the small crowd gathered around, he handed the
instrument to the founder of Granite Films.
* * *
While the Germans were busy watching the nonagenarian put down
his name in triplicate, I managed to dart unnoticed up the stone staircase.
Not surprisingly, perhaps, I could not escape the sensation that I had played
this part before. Not once, a hundred times. Jewel thieves, kidnappers, gam–
blers, assassins: Mr. Moto knew how to foil them all. The trick, of course,
was to remain both calmer and cleverer than any such villain: mental
