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up all his old girlfriends, the ones before the war who'd taught him how not to be a farmboy. Eva had introduced him to all of them and then, after the British declared war, moved in herself. He couldn't remember how that had happened. All he could think of was how Eva had taught him nothing, tried to teach him the mystery of nothing, the intricacies of space between words and lines. She was a great withholder.
    He pieced their affair back to a moment where, in a fit of frustration at her remoteness, he'd accused her of acting the 'mysterious
woman', when all she did was front a brothel as a nightclub. She'd iced over and said she didn't play at being anything. They'd split for a week and he'd gone whoring with nameless girls from the Friedrichstrasse, knowing she'd hear about it. She ignored his reappearance at the club and then wouldn't have him back in her bed until she was sure that he was clean, but ... she had let him back.
    Another car came down Nürnbergerstrasse, the sleet diagonal through the cracks of light. Felsen checked the two blocks of Reichsmarks in his inside pockets, left the window and went down to join it.

    SS-Brigadeführers Hanke, Fischer and Wolff and one of the other candidates, Hans Koch, were sitting in the mess taking drinks served by a waiter with a steel tray. Felsen ordered a brandy and sat amongst them. They were all commenting on the quality of the mess cognac since they'd occupied France.
    And Dutch cigars,' said Felsen, handing round a handful to all the players. 'You realize how they used to keep the best for themselves.'
    'A very Jewish trait,' said Brigadeführer Hanke, 'don't you think?'
    Koch, still as pink-faced as he had been at fourteen, nodded keenly through the smoke of his cigar which Hanke was lighting for him.
    'I didn't know the Jews were involved in the Dutch tobacco industry,' said Felsen.
    'The Jews are everywhere,' said Koch.
    'You don't smoke your own cigars?' asked Brigadeführer Fischer.
    'After dinner,' said Felsen. 'Only cigarettes before. Turkish. Would you like to try one?'
    'I don't smoke cigarettes.'
    Koch looked at his lit cigar and felt foolish. He saw Felsen's cigarette case on the table.
    'May I?' he said, picking it up and opening it. The shop's name was stamped on the inside. 'Samuel Stern, you see, the Jews
are
everywhere.'
    'The Jews have been with us for centuries,' said Felsen.
    'So was Samuel Stern until Kristallnacht,' said Koch, sitting back satisfied, synchronizing a nod with Hanke. 'They weaken us every hour they remain in the Reich.'
    'Weaken us?' said Felsen, thinking this sounded like something verbatim from Julius Streicher's rag,
Der Stürmer.
'They don't weaken
me.
"
    'What are you implying, Herr Felsen?' said Koch, cheeks reddening.
    'I'm not implying anything, Herr Koch. I was merely saying that I have not experienced any weakening of my position, my business, or my social life as a result of the Jews.'
    'It is quite possible you have been...'
    'And as for the Reich, we have overrun most of Europe lately which hardly...'
    '...possible you have been unaware,' finished Koch shouting him down.
    The double doors to the mess thumped open and a tall, heavy man took three strides into the room. Koch shot off his chair. The Brigadeführers all stood up. SS-Gruppenführer Lehrer flicked his wrist at waist height.
    'Heil Hitler
,' he said. 'Bring me a brandy. Vintage.'
    The Brigadeführers and Koch responded with full salutes. Felsen eased himself slowly out of his chair. The mess waiter whispered something to the dark, lowered head of the Gruppenführer.
    'Well, bring me a brandy in the dining room then,' he shouted.
    They went straight into dinner, Lehrer fuming because he'd wanted to stand in front of the fire, warming his arse, with a brandy or two.
    Koch and Felsen sat on either side of Lehrer at the dinner. Over a nasty green soup Hanke asked Felsen about his father. The question Felsen had been waiting for.
    'He was killed by a pig in 1924,'