In The Presence Of My Enemies

Here was 20 Burggrafen-Strasse, here was 18…and here, looking very little different from the houses on either side, was 16. With a sour half smile, Heinrich went up the slate walkway, climbed three red-brick steps, and stood in front of a door whose ornate carved floral border spoke of Victorian bourgeois respectability. Wishing he were somewhere, anywhere, else, Heinrich rang the bell.

"It's open," Erika called. "Come on in."

He did. The entry hall was narrow and cramped. It made a dogleg to the left, so he couldn't see any of the rest of the house from the doorway. A polished brass coat-and-hat rack by the door offered a mute hint. Heinrich took it, hanging his black leather greatcoat and high-crowned cap on two of the hooks. Then, with a shrug, he went into the front room-and stopped in his tracks.

He'd seen plenty of seduction scenes in films. He'd never expected to walk into one in real life, but he did now. It was almost too perfect. A pair of champagne flutes sat on a coffee table. Behind it, on a couch, lolled Erika Dorsch. She wore something white and lacy that didn't cover very much of her and didn't cover that very well. There were no perfumes in films, either. This one-Chanel?-was devastating. "Hello, Heinrich," Erika murmured.

If he wasn't going to go forward and do what she obviously wanted him to do, he should have turned on his heel and got out of there as fast as he could. He realized that later. At the moment, captivated if not quite captured, he simply stared. "Where's your sister?" he blurted.

Erika laughed musically. She sat up, which put even more of her on display as the lingerie gave ground. "You were the one who said she'd be here," she answered. "I never did."

Heinrich thought back. She was right. He'd assumed what he wanted to assume. Maybe she'd let him-no, she'd certainly let him-do that, but she hadn't lied. The collar of his uniform shirt felt much too tight. "I'd better go," he muttered-the first half-smart thing he'd said, and it wasn't any better than half-smart.

"Don't be silly. You just got here." Erika patted the couch by her. "Sit down. Make yourself at home. Have something to drink."

He didn't. "This is…" He cast about for a word. He didn't take long to find one. "This is ridiculous. What on earth do you want with me?"

"About what you'd expect," she answered. "Do I have to draw you a picture? I don't think so-you're smart. And you'regemutlich. You're…not bad-looking." He almost laughed. Even she couldn't push it any further than that. Then venom filled her voice as she went on, "And Willi's a two-timing asshole. So why not?"

She leaned forward to pick up one of the flutes. A pink nipple appeared for a moment as the lace shifted. Then it vanished again. Heinrich hadn't added a memory to thethings I'm glad I saw even if I wasn't supposed to file since he was sixteen. He did now.

"Why not?" Erika repeated, this time making it a serious question. "Who'd know? Nobody but us, and I'd get some of my own back. Willi's probably out fucking that little whore right now."

So he was. Heinrich knew that, where Erika only suspected it. But she'd asked him why not, and he thought he owed her an answer. That was also, at best, half-smart. Again, he didn't realize it till later. His thinking, just then, was less sharp than it might have been. He said, "I love my wife. I don't want to do anything to hurt her."

Erika laughed at him. "You sound like a script from the Propaganda Ministry-except I happen to know that every Propaganda Minister from Goebbels on has screwed around on his wife whenever he got the chance. So where does that leave you?"

"Say whatever you want," he answered. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"No? Part of you does." Erika wasn't looking at his face.

Heinrich intended to have a good long talk with that part, too. The trouble was, it talked back. Unhappily, he said, "Find some other way to get even with Willi. Find some way to make him happy, if you can, and for him to make you happy, too. I know the two of you used to be."

Her eyes flashed. "You don't know as much as you think you do."

"Who ever does, when it's somebody else's marriage?" Heinrich said reasonably-he was reasonable most of the time, even when being reasonable wasn't. "But that's how it looked from the outside."

"I don't care how it looked," Erika said. "And I didn't ask you to come over here to tell you stories about my miserable marriage."

"No, you asked me to come over here so you could blow holes in it-and in mine," Heinrich said.

"Mine's already got holes in it," Erika said. Heinrich waited to see if she'd add anything about his. She didn't. Instead, she went on, "I asked you to come over so I could forget about mine for a little while."