The Kingdom of Shadows (45 page)

Pavli opened his eyes again. The scene played out to its final frames. The silken fragments, all that was left, caught by the wind through the studio’s crumbling walls, and carried like spider threads out to the night. Dispersing like mist, so that even that last little bit was gone. The camera turned to the empty gown on the stage’s floor, where the woman had stood. Gone now; the night wind fluttered the delicate cloth, then stilled itself . . .

“This some kind of a joke?”

He saw now Wise’s anger-reddened face.

“A joke . . .” Von Behren nodded. “Yes, perhaps it is.”

Pavli watched as
Herr
Wise pried the film canister apart and its two empty sections fell open on the desk.

“Everything is,” said von Behren.

“There’s nothing here.” The American’s gaze was murderous as he looked back up. “You didn’t film anything, did you?”

“
Das stimmt
. That is correct.” The director nodded. “There was no film in the camera. It was . . . unnecessary.”

Pavli still didn’t know if von Behren had been aware, when it happened, of the subterfuge he had committed. Sometimes he thought that the director must have known – how could he not have? – that no one other than the two of them would see his masterpiece’s final scene. And that would be enough.

And perhaps Marte had known as well. He had already thought of that. And that it wouldn’t have mattered to her, either. The scene would be played out, and the movie finished. The camera had witnessed it, and that would be the end. No lights would come up in the theatre, the audience hurrying away into the night…

“Why the hell did you do that?”

Neither said anything.
He should know
, thought Pavli. It was there to see, not in von Behren’s haunted gaze, but in his own, peaceful and silent at last.
I have her now
, Pavli told himself.
Safe from all the world
. Locked in memory, where none could touch her.

“I don’t know,” said von Behren, after the empty moment had passed. “Why do people do anything?”

“Get out of here.” Wise swept the empty metal clattering to the floor. “You’re just in my way now. I need to go find her.”

“You won’t.” Von Behren wadded the duffel bag tighter in his hands. “She’s gone. Where nothing more can happen to her . . .”

“What?”

Pavli spoke. “You don’t need to go looking for her,” he said quietly. “You already have what’s left of her. Go home,
Herr
Wise. You can watch the film you do have of her. The one that was sent to you before the war. And there was another,
nicht wahr?
That you made with her. You can watch those forever. Those were the only real part of her, anyway. All the rest . . .” Pavli shrugged. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Get out.” Wise had gone pale, his voice taut and trembling. “Just get out.”

“Very well.” Von Behren tossed the duffel bag onto the floor. “Please – take care of yourself. Nothing that happened was any fault of yours. Of anyone’s.”

They left the American where he sat in the little room, the empty film canister before him.

Von Behren looked over at the one beside him. “Are you all right, Pavli?”

“Yes. Of course.” He managed to smile. “
Alles in ordnung
. Everything is as it should be.”

“And then what?” Von Behren studied him. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” A shrug. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“Yes . . . you’re right.” He gazed down the street of ruins. “Everyone is gone, sooner or later.”

“No –” Pavli spoke up, his voice no more than a whisper. “
Niemals
–” He shook his head. “Never. They might leave . . . but they are not gone.”

The director stopped and raised a hand to shield his eyes. The sun was so bright that it banished every shadow, at least while the cameras rolled.

END