In The Presence Of My Enemies

When lunchtime came, Heinrich hopped a cab up to the Kurfurstendamm. He knew-he had detailed instructions from Lise-what he was supposed to get for Anna. Like everyone else who was breathing and halfway conscious, he'd seen advertisements for the Vicki dolls imported from the United States. They had flaxen hair, vacant expressions, improbable figures, and clothes Mata Hari would have envied. They looked perfectly Aryan. Maybe that was why they were so wildly popular in the Reich. Or maybe not-you never could tell with kids. With three of his own, Heinrich knew that.

At least people weren't fighting hand to hand these days, the way they had been when the dolls first came out. Heinrich had asked Lise if she was sure he wasn't getting something passe for Anna. She'd shaken her head. "I checked with our girls," she'd answered. "They're still popular. With all the different outfits you can get for them, they'll stay that way for years." If the girls said it, it had to be true.

Heinrich did wonder who made clothes for the swarms of Vickis. They weren't that expensive, and they didn't come from the Empire of Japan with its ocean of cheap labor. Did the doll manufacturer know an official who could pull seamstresses out of a prison camp?-or maybe not pull them out of a camp, but make them work inside? They'd sew as if their lives depended on it. Their lives would, too.

He grimaced. You could ask that kind of question about a lot of things you saw every day. Sometimes-usually-not knowing was better. He shook his head. That wasn't right. You needed to know. Heinz Buckliger was dead on target there. But ignorance could be easier for your peace of mind.

Ducking into Ulbricht's toy store banished such gloomy reflections. If you couldn't be happy in Ulbricht's, you were probably dead. Dolls, stuffed animals, brightly colored children's books, football and basketball and archery sets, toy soldiers and sailors and panzers and U-boats and fighter planes (Landser Sepp was the counterpart of Vicki for boys, and came with enough materiel to conquer Belgium), all waited for your money. Loud, cheerful music made you want to smile-and to part with your Reichsmarks.

There. He'd been told to get that one: a New Orleans Vicki, dressed in lace and satin and looking as if she'd just stepped out of Gone with the Wind. (That had been one of Hitler's favorite movies. It still got rereleased every few years. Susanna loved to go to it and make fun of the dubbing.) Heinrich grabbed for the package.

A woman's hand closed on it at the same time as his.

Annoyed, he looked up from the doll to see who else wanted it-only to discover Erika Dorsch, also annoyed, also looking up from the doll for what had to be the same reason. They stared at each other and started to laugh. "For my sister Leonore's girl," Erika said.

"For my goddaughter," Heinrich said. "Is there another one like it in the bin?"

"Let's see." Erika had to dig a little, but she found one. She handed it to him. "Here."

"Oh, good," he said. "Now we won't have to go to court, the way those two women did a few months ago when the craze was at its craziest. The judge should have played Solomon and cut the doll in half, if you ask me."

"Ja." Erika cocked her head to one side, studying him. "If we're not going to court, whereshall we go?"

"I was going to pay for this and head back to the office," Heinrich answered. "It's been busy."

"It can't bethat busy, if dear Willi takes Ilse out so often," Erika said. "And shouldn't you pay him back for the extra work you get stuck with when he does?"

Pay him back how?Heinrich wondered. He was afraid Erika would tell him-or show him. He had to be afraid of so many things. That this should be one of them struck him as most unfair. "It's not so bad," he said.

That didn't satisfy Erika, either. He might have known it wouldn't. "You're too easygoing for your own good," she said. "You let people push you around, do things to you-everybody but me."

"Ha," Heinrich said in a distinctly hollow voice. "Ha, ha. What would you do to me?"

She kissed him, right there in front of the bin of Vicki dolls. She made a good, thorough job of it, too. Behind Heinrich, somebody coughed. His ears felt ready to catch fire. But so did the rest of him, in a different way. The only way he could have kept from kissing her back and tightening his arms around her was to die on the spot.

"There," she said, breaking the kiss as abruptly as she'd started it. "See you later. Enjoy your work." She went off toward a cashier, that New Orleans Vicki still in her hand.

Heinrich stared after her. A man with a white Hitler mustache-probably a grandfather shopping for a grand-daughter-winked at him. "You lucky dog. If Ulbricht's sold dolls like that, I'd buy myself one in a minute," he said, and cackled at his own wit like a laying hen.

"Lucky. Right," Heinrich said dazedly. The old man thought that was pretty funny, too. Still cackling, he went on toward a display of stuffed kittens.