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PARTISAN ru:VIEW
There was a clack, a click, then something was pushing on my chest -
not from the inside, but from wi thout. It was the door' The elevator had
stopped! With the last of my strength I stumbled inside. Both doors
closed behind me.
"Magda! Darling! I am dying from a heart attack!"
The
Ii
ttle room was warm and airless. A lamp bulb produced very few
watts in the shade overhead. For a moment the two of us, actor and actress,
hung motionless in space. She stared blankly, invisible behind her dotted
veil. I leaned against the wall, panting, my tongue lolling from my open
mouth. Finally, with an effort, I raised both hands and began to grope at
my breast, ripping the buttons off my camel-hair jacket, tearing open the
silk shirt wi th the monogram,
PL,
on the pocket, and digging into the stuff
of my undershirt, as if I meant to claw through the flesh itself to get at
my thudding heart. But it wasn't my heart I was after. From next to my
skin I peeled away a photo of what had been an Orthodox temple.
"Please, Magda. Take it. Hide it. You will save my life."
But Magda, if indeed it were she, turned her back. She reached for the
slick brass handle of the controls and pulled it towards her. We rose.
The photograph dropped from my fingers. My head drooped on my
neck, as if weighed down by the force of acceleration. We climbed to the
top floor, the Flihrer floor, and halted. For a moment neither one of us
moved. I remained slumped against the wall, panting for breath. She stood,
swaying, her grip on the protruding lever. Then, with a gasp, she lurched
against the handle, and we began to slide down the shaft.
My eyes were fixed on the floor of the cage, where the photo lay face
up in black and white. "Magda," I began . "We have to get out of here.
Let's stop at the first floor, all right? We'll walk right by them. I'm only
asking one thing. A little favor. Take the picture. Put it in your purse. They
won't search you. That would be an insult to Hitler. He trusts you. Maybe
he fears you. You are the one who knows his secrets. Or put it in your
dress. They found the other photos. This is the only one left."
One by one, like the snap of a shutter, the floors slipped by the port–
hole lens. Above us, in the rafters, or on the rooftop, the cable unrolled
with a humming sound from its spool. Magdalena made no response. She
stood, shadowy in the feeble light, pressing against the controls.
"Have they told you why we are here? It's to take you back to
America. Everything has been arranged. We have a kind of a contract.
We'll take a steamer from Vichy France. Won't you turn around? Won't
you look at me? Everyone said you wouldn't come back if I didn't ask you.
Am I so irresistible? You know I missed you, Magda. I sent letters but the
letters came back. Such dark thoughts I had! Old Granite is with me.
You'll save Granite Films. We can make a movie about this whole adven-
