Jakob the Liar Read Free Page A

says, “Yes?” moves, and goes on sleeping. Jacob knocks again — how can anyone be that fast asleep? — he knocks louder, the duty officer sits up before being properly awake, rubs his eyes, and asks, “What time is it?”
    “Just past seven-thirty,” says Jacob.
    The duty officer has stopped rubbing his eyes, sees Jacob, rubs his eyes again, doesn’t know whether to be angry or to laugh: it’s quite incredible, no one’s going to believe him. He stands up, takes his belt from the hook, then the jacket, puts them on, buckles his belt. He sits down behind the desk, leans back, stretches both arms wide apart.
    “To what do I owe this honor?”
    Jacob tries to answer, but he can’t, his mouth is too dry: so that’s what the duty officer looks like.
    “No false modesty, now,” says the duty officer. “Out with it! What’s the problem?”
    A bit of saliva has collected in his mouth. This seems to be a friendly fellow; maybe he’s new here, maybe he isn’t even aware of this building’s terrible reputation. For a moment it occurs to Jacob that possibly he miscalculated the distance, maybe Bezanika isn’t that far, maybe barely two hundred miles, or even a good deal less; maybe the man facing him is scared, and the smart thing is to be prepared; there must be a natural explanation for everything. But then he remembers that the report has only just reached the announcer; the duty officer has been asleep and can’t have heard it yet. Then again it might be just as well if he hasn’t heard it. The report mentioned that the Russians had been halted, you Germans have succeeded in stopping the advance, you’ve had a success, but maybe this fellow thinks that the Russians are still advancing. Jacob has been speculating too long; that’s not smart, the duty officer is getting impatient; he’s beginning to frown. “Don’t you speak to Germans?”
    Of course Jacob speaks to Germans, why wouldn’t he speak to Germans, that’s the last impression he wants to give, for God’s sake, we’re all sensible people after all, of course we can speak to each other.
    “The sentry on the tower on the Kurländischer Damm told me to report to you. He said I was out on the street after eight o’clock.”
    The duty officer looks at the clock in front of him on the desk, then pushes back his sleeve and looks at his watch.
    “And that’s all he said?”
    “He also told me I was to ask for a well-deserved punishment.”
    That answer can’t do any harm, Jacob thinks; it sounds obedient, disarmingly honest. Someone who carries his frankness to such an extreme might be entitled to fair treatment, especially when the offense of which he is accused was never committed: any clock can bear witness to that.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Heym, Jacob Heym.”
    The duty officer takes paper and pencil, writes down something, not only the name, goes on writing; he looks at the clock again, it’s getting later and later, he goes on writing, almost half a page, then puts the paper aside. He opens a little box, takes out a cigarette, and gropes in his trouser pocket. Jacob walks to the black leather sofa, bends down, picks up the lighter from the floor, and puts it on the table in front of the duty officer.
    “Thanks.”
    Jacob goes and stands by the door again; a glance at the clock on the desk has shown him that it’s already past 7:45. The duty officer lights his cigarette, takes a puff; his fingers fiddle with the lighter. He flicks it on a few times, then snaps it shut again; the flame is already quite small.
    “Do you live far from here?” he asks. “Less than ten minutes.”
    “Go on home.”
    Should he believe it? How many people had the duty officer said that to without their ever getting out of here? What will he do with his revolver when Jacob turns his back? What’s out there in the corridor? How will the sentry react when he sees that Jacob has eluded his well-deserved punishment? Why should Jacob Heym of all people,