Power of the Sword - Smith Wilbur (читать книги онлайн регистрации .TXT) 📗
The six troopers came strutting across to the vacant table next to where the four of them were sitting, and ordered tankards of beer from the waitress. The owner of the coffee shop, anxious to avoid trouble, came to their table, and greeted them obsequiously. They talked for a short while.
Then the proprietor took his leave of them by standing at attention and giving the Nazi salute. Immediately the six storm troopers jumped to their feet and returned the salute, cracking the heels of their jackboots together and shouting, Heil Hitler! Mathilda Janine, who had drunk at least one full glass of champagne, let out a shriek of laughter and dissolved into helpless giggles, and the full attention of all the troopers was instantly focused upon her.
Shut up, Matty, David implored, but that only made it Mathilda Janine rolled her eyes and went scarlet in the face with the effort of trying to contain her giggles, but in the end they exploded out of her with a wild snorting whoop and the storm troopers exchanged glances and then moved across in a bunch and stood shoulder to shoulder surrounding their table.
The leader, a hefty middle-aged sergeant, said something and Tara answered in school-girl German.
Ah, said the sergeant in heavily accented English, you are English! My sister is very young and silly. Tara glared at Mathilda Janine who let out another muffled snort through her handkerchief. i They are English, said the sergeant, an explanation of all madness, and would have turned away, but one of the younger troopers had been staring at David.
Now he asked in passable English, You are the runner? You are the winner of the bronze medal. David Abrahams. David looked bashful and nodded.
You are David Abrahams, the Jew runner. The trooper enlarged on the theme, and David's face went pale and set.
The two English-speaking storm troopers explained to the others, the word juden was repeated, and then they all stared at David with hostile faces and fists clenched on their hips as the sergeant asked loudly, Are not the English and Americans ashamed to let the Jews and the negroes win their medals for them? Before they could answer Shasa had risen to his feet, smiling politely.
I say, you chaps are barking up the wrong tree. He isn't a Jew at all, he's a Zulu.
How is this possible? The sergeant looked puzzled.
Zulus are black. Wrong again, old chap. Zulus are born white. They only go black when they've been left out in the sun. We've always kept this one in the shade. You are joking, accused the sergeant.
Of course I am choking! Shasa imitated his pronunciation. 'Wouldn't you be, looking at what I'm looking at? Shasa, for goodness sake sit down, David told him. There is going to be trouble. But Shasa was inebriated with champagne and his own wit and he tapped the sergeant on the chest.
Actually, my dear fellow, if you are looking for Jews, I am the only Jew here. You are both Jews? the sergeant demanded, narrowing his eyes threateningly.
Don't be a clot. I've explained already, he's the Zulu and I'm the Jew. That is a lie, said the sergeant.
By this time the entire clientele of the coffee shop was listening to this exchange with full attention, and for those who did not understand English their companions were translating.
Shasa was encouraged by all this attention, and reckless with champagne. I see I shall have to prove my case to you.
Therefore to convince you that I am privy to all the age-old secrets of Judaism, I will reveal one of our best-kept secrets to you. Have you ever wondered what we do with that little piece the rabbi snips off the end of us? Shut up, Shasa, said David, What is he talking about? Mathilda Janine asked with interest.
Shasa Courtney, don't be disgusting, said Tara.
Bitte? said the storm trooper, looking uneasy, but the other customers of the coffee house were grinning with anticipation. Bawdy hurnour was common currency on the Ku-damm and they were revelling in the unaccustomed discomfiture of the storm troopers.
Very well, I shall tell you. Shasa ignored David and Tara.
We pack them in salt, like kippers, and send them off to Jerusalem. There in the sacred grove on the Mount of Olives on the day of the Passover, the chief rabbi plants them in rows and makes a magic sign over them and a miracle takes place, a miracle! They begin to grow., Shasa made a gesture to describe the growing, Higher and higher, they grow# The storm troopers watched his hand rise with mystified expressions. Then do you know what happens? Shasa asked and the sergeant shook his head involuntarily.
When they have grown into really big thick schmucks, we send them to Berlin where they join the Nazi storm troopers. They gaped at him, not believing what they had heard and Shasa ended his recital, And they teach them to say, he raised his right hand, Heil, what is sprang to attention an that fellow's name again? The sergeant let out a bellow and swung a wild righthanded punch. Shasa ducked, but unsteady with champagne he lost his balance and went down with a crash pulling the tablecloth with him, and the glasses shattered. The champagne bottle rolled across the floor, spurting wine, and two storm troopers jumped on top of Shasa and rained punches on his head and upper body.
David leaped up to go to his assistance, and a storm trooper grabbed his arms from behind. David wrenched his right arm free, swung round and belted a beautiful righthander into the trooper's nose. The man howled and released David to clutch his injured organ, but instantly two other troopers seized David from behind and twisted his arms up behind his back.
Leave him alone! screamed Mathilda Janine and with a flying leap landed on the shoulders of one of the troopers.
She knocked his cap over his eyes and grabbed a double handful of his hair. Leave David, you pig! She tugged at his hair with all her strength and the trooper spun in a circle trying to dislodge her.
Women were screaming, and furniture was shattering. The proprietor stood in the doorway of his kitchen, wringing his hands, his face working pitifully.
Shasa Courtney, Tara yelled furiously. You are behaving like a hooligan. Stop this immediately. Shasa was half buried under a pile of brown uniforms and swinging fists and made no audible reply. The storm troopers had been taken by surprise, but now they rallied swiftly.
Street fighting was their game.
Mathilda was dislodged with a heave of broad brown-shirted shoulders and sent flying into the corner. Three troopers jerked Shasa to his feet, arms twisted up behind his back, and hustled him towards the kitchen door. David received the same treatment, a trooper on each of his arms. The one with the injured nose following close behind, bleeding down his shirt front and cursing bitterly.
The proprietor stood aside hurriedly, and they ran Shasa and David through the kitchens, scattering chefs and serving maids, and out into the alley behind the coffee house, knocking over the garbage cans as Shasa struggled ineffectually.
None of the storm troopers spoke, There was no need to give orders. They were professionals engaged in the sport they loved. Expertly they pinned the two victims to the brick wall of the alley, while a trooper went to work on each of them, switching punches from face to body and back to the face, granting like pigs at the trough in time to the rhythm of their blows.
Mathilda Janine had followed them out and again she tried to rush to David's defence, but a casual shove sent her reeling back, tripping and falling amongst the garbage cans, and the trooper returned to his task.
Tara in the kitchen was shouting angrily at the cafe proprieter call the police, this instant. Do you hear, They are killing two innocent people out there. But the proprietor made a helpless gesture. No use, Fraulein. The police will not come. Shasa doubled over and they let him fall. Then all three of them started in with the boot. The steel-shod jackboots crashed into his belly and back and flanks.
