The Prize (110 page)

Eckart flinched slightly. ‘I do not think we put it as bluntly as that, Carl.’

Krantz would not be turned aside. This was vital. ‘That was your implication, Hans.’

‘Implication, yes. No question. We respect and reward our friends.’

‘I did not ask you why you wanted Stratman in Stockholm. I felt that was not part of our—the implication of our deal.’

‘I think I have told you—we wanted him here, nearby, in a free and neutral climate, away from his captors and bodyguards, where we could talk to him—I could see him as an old friend, merely that, nothing more.’

‘The point I make is that I did not bother you with my ambitions,’ said Krantz. ‘You spoke to me of a position to which I have aspired all my life. Quite reasonably, you asked if, first, I could remain where I was, to throw my influence as a voting judge behind a candidate you desired to be elected. Your wish was my wish, as if a command. I tell you that in sincerity, Hans.’

‘We are proud of your friendship, Carl.’

Krantz nodded. ‘I promised you that I would do what I could do, but even then, I did not foresee the difficulties. Stratman was duly nominated, as I have told you, and that was a beginning. All through the spring and summer, I acquired Stratman’s published papers, and, like Gullberg, translated them with care, and sent them to my voting colleagues with personal notes. I tried, through faculty friends abroad, to learn what details I could of Stratman’s actual discovery, the specific solar conversion and storage method, but I ran into a stone wall. American security deprived me of precious details. What I did obtain were zealous endorsements of the discovery, from those who had been eyewitnesses to its results and values. All of this correspondence I translated, and passed around to the other judges. During the summer, I was instrumental in bringing two physicists, one English, the other Russian—’

‘Yes, we helped clear the way for the Russian to come here.’

‘Did you? Well, I thought it had been too easy. It was wise of you, Hans. He came, and the Englishman, and since they were specialists in solar work, they gave valuable lectures—I saw to it that my colleagues attended—and I saw to it that the speakers gave praise to Stratman, and in both cases, my encouragement was not necessary, for their praise would have been lavish anyway. By then, I think, my fellow judges were properly orientated, Stratman-conscious, and for the first time, he was a serious candidate.’

‘You are a wonder, Carl.’

‘You have only heard half of it, Hans. The most decisive half lay ahead of me in the autumn. My original work had been constructive. To build up Stratman. Now, I shifted my gears. My next work became, necessarily, destructive, to destroy the competition. Believe me, the competition was serious this year. We are in the age of physics, and there is an overabundance of eligible candidates. A series of informal lunches with my fellow judges produced the names of three favourites running ahead of Stratman. I will not bother you with full-length biographies. Suffice it to say, one was that damn Norwegian with his latest findings in the low gravitational field. Another was the Spaniard, the meterologist, the one with the new cloud chamber, who claims to have made the first inroads in weather control. The third was an Australian team that had made advances in high-frequency transport—I must confess, fascinating—an elaborate theory, and some evidence, of building underground cables beneath concrete highways and rails to propel vehicles electrically. There was competition, you can see, and demonstrated, whereas Stratman’s findings, though doubtless more important, were made to seem impractical by loathsome secrecy.’

‘What was your next step, Carl? How did you sabotage the competition?’

Krantz felt uncomfortable. He pretended to devote himself to his driving, eyes on the three-pointed silver star above the grille. ‘I do not think the exact details are pertinent.’

‘They are to me,’ said Eckart. ‘We know your resourcefulness in theory. We want to see it proved.’

‘The Norwegian was easiest to dispose of. I wrote a learned paper—I must show it to you—proving that antigravity, if controlled by Norway, could be harmful to Sweden. It would give our neighbour terrible ascendency in rocket propulsion and what-not. I knew that this would strike at our judges’ nationalistic pride. Moreover, to give them a graceful backing off, I indicated that many of the Norwegian’s experiments had dealt with the value of antigravity fields in medicine as well as physics—you know, relief of heart sufferers—and I indicated that his candidacy should be considered, next year, by the Nobel Medical Committee. I circulated my paper, and I am happy to say that the Norwegian received only two votes. As to the Spaniard, with his weather control, I was able to learn that he was a Falangist, and so I located several exiled Spanish scientists, of unimpeachable repute, and invited them to be my devil’s advocates. Their letters were “volunteered” to the leaders of our committee. Their disparagement of the Falangist’s discovery was most effective, I must say. The Australians were another matter. Their high-frequency invention was well regarded everywhere. Moreover, it was a safe prize, noncontroversial. There was no chance of my getting at them through their work.’

‘What could you do?’

‘I could get at them through themselves,’ said Krantz placidly. ‘I have a man here in Stockholm, a refugee of long standing, who is useful in these matters. He is a Hungarian. He had served one of the Axis powers, in World War II, as a minor espionage agent. He likes to think of himself as a free-lance spy, still, but he is actually a pathetic buffoon. Yet, on several occasions, I have employed him for research and found him valuable. He is literate and bookish. He has good connections among the international press. They feed him titbits in exchange for news trifles. He thinks of himself as another Wilhelm Stieber or Fr
ن
ulein Doktor Schragmüller, but he is actually a librarian, a researcher. I hired him to investigate the Australians.’

‘How could you take such a risk with an irresponsible Hungarian buffoon?’ asked Eckart bitingly.

‘Because he depends on me, Hans,’ said Krantz. ‘He is stateless, and I, and several like me, have intervened on his behalf with lesser government officials, to keep him here. Also, he needs the few kronor we dole out to him now and then. I used him to discover that the Spanish candidate was a Falangist. When it came to the Australians, I used him once more.’

Krantz’s lips curled in self-satisfaction as he negotiated the Mercedes around a curve. When the car was straight again, he continued to speak.

‘The two Australians were homosexuals. We gathered the proof, and when the final voting conference was held last month, I deferred to one of my conservative colleagues—I had shown him the facts and said I thought he might be interested, although I thought it was no issue—and at the critical moment, he burst forth and made it an issue. Professor Max Stratman was elected our Nobel laureate in forty-five minutes.’

Eckart shook his head. ‘Carl, Carl, what is there for me to say? You are a master. I would hate to be a candidate before you.’

‘You would have no problem, Hans. I would favour you.’

‘So that is how it was done?’ mused Eckart.

‘In this case, yes. I would not guarantee it again. The circumstances were exceptional. At any rate, you see the work that went into it.’

‘You will make a scintillating addition to our staff at Humboldt, Carl.’

Krantz took his eyes from the road and looked at his guest. ‘When?’ he asked.

‘Soon, soon,’ said Eckart. ‘Have no doubts. I will see Stratman. You will finish with your Nobel circus. I will return to East Berlin, consult with the board, and you will be confirmed.’

‘Must it wait that long?’

‘How long? It is nothing. Two weeks or three. The formalities and no more. I will phone you, and you will be on your way. Incidentally, you have seen Stratman?’

‘Certainly. I am on the official reception committee. I welcomed him at the train. I attended his press conference. I spent a considerable time with him at the Royal Banquet.’

‘How does he look?’

‘What do you mean? When did you last see him?’

‘The week our Führer died.’

‘He is not a young man any longer—that you know, Hans. Sometimes he appears quite sprightly, other times feeble.’

Eckart fiddled with his monocle. ‘Has he spoken of the past, of Germany?’

Krantz squirmed in his place behind the wheel. ‘Several times. The Americans have brainwashed him with their propaganda and money.’

‘They have? How so?’

‘At the press conference, he defended the secrecy of his discovery as necessary. He said that he was forced to work at the Kaiser Wilhelm to keep his relatives alive. He denied that the Americans kidnapped him. He said that he left Germany voluntarily, because he had worked for one totalitarian state, and he did not wish to remain and work for another.’

‘He said that?’

‘It was in many newspapers the following day.’

‘And in your other conversations, anything else?’

‘At the Royal Banquet, before dinner, there was a trifling exchange. There was conversation about money—what to do with the Nobel money—and Stratman made it clear that he was keeping his prize.’

‘Because he needed the money?’

‘That is my guess. Later, I had a disagreement with Count Jacobsson—you have met him—’

‘Yes.’

‘An officious ass,’ said Krantz. ‘We were arguing Sweden’s neutrality. Jacobsson, as usual, said we were pro-Allies, and I had no stomach for that lie. I told the truth about public sentiment.’

‘How did Stratman react?’

‘He made no comment on that, but when I praised German genius, he disparaged it. Then, right after, the two medical laureates told what they did in the war, and one of them asked Stratman what had happened to him, and he said that he had been held a hostage—that was his word, hostage. Then, there was an incident. Stratman had said he was a hostage, he and his brother—’

‘Yes, Walther Stratman.’

‘—to keep his brother’s wife and daughter alive in a camp. Well, the brother’s daughter, Stratman’s niece, was right there in the room with him, and when someone asked what had happened to her mother, she broke up and ran off. It was needless and embarrassing. Stratman, I must say, remained unruffled.’

Eckart folded his hands in his lap and stared out the windshield. ‘Stockholm,’ he said.

‘We will be in the city in a few minutes.’

Eckart was silent a moment. ‘Then Stratman is here with his niece?’

‘They are always together.’

‘What is she like?’

‘A cold fish. But one never knows. If I were twenty years younger, I would be sorely tempted, even if she is a Jew.’

Eckart smiled. The picture of the crusty gnome beside him being tempted by fleshly desire was too improbable to formulate. ‘Keep your mind on your work, Carl.’

‘My work is done,’ said Krantz.

‘One never knows. I want you to keep in close touch with me.’

‘I expect to, Hans. I must remind you, I made your reservation at the Grand for only two days. It was not easy. The city is crowded. Do you intend to remain longer?’