Self's punishment - By Bernhard Schlink & Walter Popp Page 0,44

sandwich with sardines, onions, and olives. Frau Buchendorff prevented me. She’d had to type something for Firner that morning at the plant, was on her way home through Zollhofstrasse passing the Traber-Pilsstuben, and was quite certain she recognized one of the men from the War Cemetery.

‘I’m in a phone-box. He hasn’t emerged, I don’t think. Could you come over straight away? If he drives off, I’ll follow him. Head back home if I’m not here and I’ll call you later, when I can.’ Her voice cracked.

‘My God, girl, don’t do anything stupid. It’s enough to jot down his license plate number. I’m on my way.’

10

It’s Fred’s birthday

In the stairwell I almost flattened Frau Weiland. Driving off, I nearly took Herr Weiland with me. I drove via the railway station and the Konrad Adenauer Bridge, past blanching pedestrians and reddening traffic lights. When I drew up five minutes later in front of the Traber-Pilsstuben, Frau Buchendorff ’s car was still facing it in the No Stopping zone. No sign of her, though. I got out and went into the pub. One bar, two or three tables, a jukebox and pinball, maybe ten guests and the poprietress. Frau Buchendorff had a glass of Pils in one hand and a meat patty in the other. I placed myself next to her at the bar. ‘Hello there, Judith. You’re back in the neighbourhood, are you?’

‘Hello, Gerhard. Join us for a beer?’

I ordered two meat patties to go with the beer.

The guy on her other side said in a thick Austrian accent, ‘It’s the boss’s mother who makes these meat things.’

Judith introduced him to me. ‘This is Fred. A real Viennese gent. He’s got something to celebrate, he was saying. Fred, this is Gerhard.’

He’d already celebrated thoroughly. Lurching and weaving cautiously like all drunks, he took himself off to the jukebox, propped himself up to select records as though there were nothing amiss, came back and sat down between Judith and myself. ‘The boss, our Silvia, is from Austria too. That’s why I like celebrating my birthday at her pub. And take a look, I’ve got my birthday present.’ He patted Judith’s bottom with the flat of his hand.

‘What do you do for a living, Fred?’

‘Marble and red wine, import and export. And yourself?’

‘I’m in the security business, property and personal security, bouncers, bodyguards, dog trainers, and what-not. I could use a strong guy like you. You’d have to go easy on the alcohol, though.’

‘Well, well, security.’ He set down his glass. ‘There’s nothing more secure than a firm ass. Right, sweetheart?’ He now used the hand that had been holding the glass to grope Frau Buchendorff ’s posterior. Judith’s butt.

She turned round and slapped down hard on Fred’s fingers, looking at him impishly. It hurt and he withdrew his hands, but he wasn’t mad at her.

‘And what are you doing here with your security?’

‘I’m looking for people for a job. There’s money in it, for me, for the people I find, and for the contractor I’m on the lookout for.’

Fred’s face registered interest. Maybe because his hands weren’t permitted to do anything with Judith’s butt for the moment, he tapped my chest with a fleshy index finger. ‘Isn’t that a bit too big for you, gramps?’

I seized his hand, forced it down, twisting his finger in the process, and looking at him innocently all the while. ‘How old are you today, Fred? You’re not the man I’m looking for? Never mind, come on, I’ll get you a drink.’

Fred’s face was contorted with pain. I let go and he hesitated for a moment. Should he lay into me, or drink a beer with me? Then his eyes went to Judith and I knew what was coming.

His ‘Fine, a beer’ was an overture for the punch that caught me on the left side of my ribcage. But I’d already rammed my knee between his legs. He doubled up, cradling his testicles. When he straightened up, my right fist hit him in the middle of his nose. His hands flew up to shield his face, then he lowered them again and stared incredulously at the blood. I reached for his glass and emptied it over his head. ‘Cheers, Fred.’

Judith had stepped to the side, the other clients kept their distance. Only the proprietress joined the battle on the front lines. ‘Clear out, if it’s trouble you want, clear out,’ she said, already jostling me towards the exit.

‘But sweetheart, can’t you see, we’re just having a bit of