A Small Death in lisbon by Robert Wilson Page A

sir.'
    'Prisoner, turn around and stand at ease.'
    He didn't see who was sitting at the table at first. His watering eyes took in the gross quantities of food before anything. Then he saw Wolff, Hanke, Fischer and Lehrer, two other men he didn't
know and a young woman who was smoking through lipstick already smudged.
    Lehrer was smiling. The Brigadeführers were all amused. Fischer broke first and roared and drummed the floor with his boots. They all laughed, banging the table, even the girl, who didn't know why she was laughing.
    'Is the prisoner permitted to laugh?' asked Hanke.
    They roared again.
    'Prisoner Felsen. Laugh!' shouted Fischer.
    Felsen smiled and started to blink, conjuring mirth from relief. His shoulders began to shake, his stomach pumped and he laughed, he laughed himself helpless, he laughed himself to a retching standstill. He laughed the SS officers silent.
    'The prisoner will stop laughing now,' said Lehrer.
    Felsen's mouth clamped shut. He returned to 'at ease'.
    'There are some clothes for you in there. Change.'
    He went into the kitchens, stripped and got into a dark suit which hung off him. He rejoined the table.
    'Eat,' said Lehrer.
    He laid waste to the table in his immediate vicinity more thoroughly than a retreating army. The officers talked amongst themselves except Lehrer. 'Don't think I'm a bad loser,' he said.
    'I don't think that, sir.'
    'What
do
you think?'
    'I think you are what your name implies ... a teacher, sir.'
    'And what have you learned?'
    'Obedience, sir.'
    'We're giving you this job you don't want for a number of reasons. You can organize things. You are ruthless and aggressive. But you must not be insubordinate, Felsen. In your business you might lose an hour's production because somebody didn't follow your orders. In the business of war it could be a thousand lives or more. There's no place for the maverick. Control is the key. And I am in control,' he said, swilling the brandy in his glass. 'So why don't you want this job?'
    'I don't want to leave Berlin, sir. I have a factory to run.'
    'At least it's not a girl.'
    'I've produced quality goods and I've shown my appreciation.'
    'Don't start on a different question. What's in Berlin for a Swabian
like you apart from your factory? We're not talking about Paris or Rome. It's not a city you can fall in love with. Not like Nuremberg, my city. And Berliners? ...My God, they think the world owes them a living.'
    'Maybe I like their sense of humour.'
    'Yes, well, you've always been a bit dry down in Swabia.'
    'I don't follow you, sir,' said Felsen, touchy.
    'Trampled to death by a pig. What was that?'
    Felsen didn't respond.
    'Do you think I don't know about your father?' said Lehrer.
    'Yes, well, there you have two examples of Swabian humour.'
    'It gave me a problem, Hanke thought you were psychologically unsuitable.'
    'I should have tried harder with him.'
    Lehrer leaned across the table, his face flushed with wine, his breath sour and cigar-streaked.
    'This job is a big opportunity for you ... a big opportunity ... You will thank me for it. I know you will thank me.'
    'Then why don't you tell me about it, sir?'
    'Not yet. Tomorrow. You'll come to Lichterfelde. I'll have you sworn in first.'
    'Into the SS?'
    'Of course,' said Lehrer, until he saw Felsen's frozen face. 'Don't worry, you're going west, not east.'

    They drove slowly north through the fresh snow back to Berlin. That familiar smell had been the Lichterfelde barracks. On the few occasions a car passed in the other direction Felsen could see the shadows of the officers in the car in front, passing the girl between them. Lehrer didn't speak. It stopped snowing. They cruised into Berlin and the first car peeled off to the Tiergarten and Moabit. Lehrer ordered the driver to do a small circuit of the city. Felsen stared out into the dark, the black parks, the flak towers, the lightless houses, the silent Anhalter station.
    'It's the nature of war,' said Lehrer, 'that things