Free The Kingdom of Shadows by K. W. Jeter Page B

the heads of a troop of paunchy, beer-soaked stormtroopers.” The director’s voice warmed to the subject, the words spilling out, as though pushed by a grudging admiration of Goebbels’ self-willed transformation. “Even then . . .” He smiled, a conspirator in the knowledge of the world. “What is that American expression I found so colorful? Ah, yes – even then, our good minister enjoyed a great many – what is the word? – conquests . That’s the saying, isn’t it?”
     
    “Yeah, sure – that’s how you say it.”
     
    Marte watched as Wise nodded in turn. The way the men spoke, so cruelly about such things – that disgusted her. Not the speaking, but the forgetting – as if she were no longer standing there with them, hearing every word. Not for the first time, she wanted to throw her empty glass to the floor, turn and stride away – but she knew she couldn’t. Not yet. Not while the things of which the men spoke, Joseph and all the rest, so mattered to her.
     
    “Are you well?” Von Behren peered with concern at the American. “You’ve gone very pale.”
     
    Wise took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “I’m all right.”
     
    “Some things are not good to think upon, Herr Wise.”
     
    Marte saw a spark of anger flash in the American’s eyes.
     
    “How do you know what I’m thinking about?”
     
    Von Behren smiled. “Oh, I know a great deal about you, Herr Wise. About how you came to be here. And what you came looking for. Or perhaps more properly, who .”
     
    “Really?” It was obvious the American didn’t like people knowing such things. “And why’s that?”
     
    “ Aber natürlich  – you have come to speak with a certain young woman.” The director gestured toward Marte beside him. “And so you have.”
     
    Wise turned and studied the smaller man. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “What’s the deal?”
     
    Von Behren smoothed the point of his beard with his hand. “Let us speak frankly, Herr Wise, as professionals in the business of making films. You hire screenwriters to put down the words for the actors to speak, and I try to get those words, and the images that accompany them, into the camera, to make a little world inside there. But we needn’t flatter ourselves. We know, don’t we, that the face, the one up on the screen, so much bigger than all the little ones watching in the darkness – that’s the only thing that’s real, is it not? And a beautiful woman’s face . . .” He shrugged. “What is more real than that? What has more power?”
     
    “You did it.” The realization broke upon Wise. “You’re the one who sent the print of your film to me.”
     
    “No, not directly. Some things need to be done more subtly than that. One cannot catch certain hares so easily. Let us just say . . . I arranged to have it sent.”
     
    “Why?” Wise regarded the other man. “What do you think you’re going to get out of all this?”
     
    “I never thought; I only hoped. That when you saw my Marte . . .” Von Behren glanced toward her, then brought his gaze back. “You are someone who makes things possible, are you not? Many things . . . for all sorts of people . . .”
     
    That was when she knew. Why the director – the one who had discovered her, made her his protegee – had sent a print of her film so far away. To America, and to Herr David Wise. He had confided in her that such was his intent, but that she was to remain quiet about it, and not let Joseph know. He had bound her to silence, and now she knew why.
     
    She had known as soon as the American had turned his gaze again toward her. This time, their eyes had met, and she had not looked away. For what she saw there was the same as that burning spark she saw in Joseph’s eyes. Desire, that would not rest until it had grasped all that for which it longed.
     
    “ Herr Wise . . .” Marte spoke softly. She tilted her head, so that she looked at him