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asked in public— or in private either, if they had any sense, not even an SS-Sturmbannführer.
    And that, he could see now, was when his relationship with Pili had started to go bad; the time when he had started to wake up before it was light and to volunteer for every case that came along.
    March stood for a few minutes without switching on the lights, looking down at the traffic heading south to Wittenberg-Platz. Then he went into the kitchen and poured himself a large whisky. Monday's Berliner Tageblatt was lying by the sink. He carried it back with him into the sitting room.
    March had a routine for reading the paper. He started at the back, which held the truth. If Leipzig was said to have beaten Cologne 4-0 at football, the chances were it was true: even the Party had yet to devise a means of rewriting the sports results. The sports news was a different matter, COUNTDOWN TO TOKYO OLYMPICS. US. MAY COMPETE FOR FIRST TIME IN 28 YEARS. GERMAN ATHLETES STILL LEAD THE WORLD. Then the advertisements: GERMAN FAMILIES! PLEASURE BECKONS IN GOTENLAND, RIVIERA OF THE REICH! French perfume, Italian silks, Scandinavian furs, Dutch cigars, Belgian coffee, Russian caviar, British televisions—the cornucopia of Empire spilled across the pages. Births, marriages and deaths: TEBBE, Ernst and Ingrid; a son for the Führer. WENZEL, Hans, aged 71; a true National Socialist, sadly missed.
    And the lonely hearts:

    FIFTY years old. Pure Aryan doctor, veteran of the Battle of Moscow, who intends to settle on the land, desires male progeny through marriage with healthy, Aryan, virginal, young, unassuming, thrifty woman, adapted to hard work; broad-hipped, flat-heeled and earringless essential.
    WIDOWER aged sixty once again wishes to have Nordic mate prepared to present him with children so that old family should not die out in male line.
    Arts pages: Zarah Leander, still going strong, in Woman of Odessa , now showing at the Gloria-Palast: the epic story of the resettlement of the South Tyrolese. A piece by the music critic attacking the "pernicious Negroid wailings" of a group of young Englishmen from Liverpool who were playing to packed audiences of German youths in Hamburg, Herbert von Karajan to conduct a special performance of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony— the European anthem—at the Royal Albert Hall in London on the Führer's birthday.
    Editorial on the student antiwar demonstrations in Heidelberg: TRAITORS MUST BE SMASHED BY FORCE! The Tageblatt always took a firm line.
    Obituary: some old Bonze from the Ministry of the Interior. "A lifetime's service to the Reich . . ."
    Reich news: SPRING THAW BRINGS FRESH FIGHTING ON SIBERIAN FRONT!   GERMAN TROOPS SMASH IVAN TERROR GROUPS! In Rovno, capital of the Reichskommissariat Ukraine, five terrorist leaders had been executed for organizing the massacre of a family of German settlers. There was a photograph of the Reich's latest nuclear submarine, the Grossadmiral Dönitz , at its new base in Trondheim.
    World news. In London it had been announced that King Edward and Queen Wallis were to pay a state visit to the Reich in July "further to strengthen the deep bonds of respect and affection between the peoples of Great Britain and the German Reich." In Washington, it was believed that President Kennedy's latest victory in the U.S. primaries had strengthened his chances of winning a second term . . .
    The paper slipped from March's fingers and onto the floor.
    Half an hour later, the telephone rang.
    "So sorry to wake you." Koth was sarcastic. "I had the
    "For God's sake!"
    "What can you tell me about a man named Josef Buhler?"
    That night, March had a dream. He was at the lakeshore again in the rain and there was the body, facedown in the mud. He pulled at the shoulder—pulled hard—but he could not move it. The body was gray-white lead. But when he turned to leave, it grabbed his leg and began pulling him toward the surface of the lake. He scrabbled at the earth, trying to dig his fingers