“It was the left that formed the backbone of the resistance to the German occupation,” said Elli. “And for this reason it was the left that earned the right to govern Greece after the war. But out of respect for his allies, Stalin ordered the KKE to avoid a confrontation with the Greek government in exile, led by Georgios Papandreou. The British, however, encouraged Papandreou to move against the KKE, and even sent tanks and Indian infantry units to support him against the population of Athens, which had supported the left and the KKE. As relations between the Allies deteriorated, Greece became a kind of British protectorate. The king returned to Athens, and the American CIA set about re-equipping and training the Greek army with the aim of destroying Greek communism, which was itself betrayed by Tito, in Yugoslavia.”
The interior of the Rover P4 was all red leather and walnut veneer, quietly ticking clocks and plush thick carpets, like an exclusive English gentleman’s club. Elli Panatoniou looked good seated on the Rover’s red leather. She’d have looked good seated on a heap of worn-out car tires. I tried to keep my nice blue eyes on the twisting road to Ermioni but they kept twisting their way back to her shapely knees, the chiaroscuro edge of her black stocking tops, and the Corinth Canal that was her cleavage. The surreptitious enjoyment of all that makes a good-looking woman good-looking is perhaps the only pleasure remaining to man that is neither illegal nor unhealthy, and it’s a wonder we stayed on the road at all. It didn’t help that her Shalimar perfume was my favorite because it seemed somehow to encapsulate the delightful difference that existed between men and women; the stuff had the effect of making a woman smell like a woman and making a man want to behave like a rampaging gorilla.
“But for Tito, Stalin would have supported the Greek uprising,” she continued. “As it was, the civil war that was fought effectively resulted in the destruction of Greek communism in 1949. Since when, the army, with the direct help and interference of the Americans, has been backing a succession of incompetent anti-communist governments. This latest one led by Mr. Karamanlis is no exception.”
Of course, I wanted her but I was also dumb enough to wonder if this was a good idea while my liberty was under threat from Lieutenant Leventis. Instead of devoting my energies to Miss Panatoniou and the contents of her brassiere I warned myself I needed to focus all of my attention on getting out of Greece and back to Germany. At the same time I nursed a strong suspicion that Elli must be using me for something other than German conversation but so far I’d failed to see for what. In truth I probably didn’t care very much; it’s usually been my experience that if a beautiful woman is trying to take advantage of you, then you might as well relax and enjoy it while you can.
“But make no mistake,” she said in her reasonable German. “This is a country run by the right wing and before very long the army will reveal its true hand. We may look like a democracy but underneath Greece is a very polarized society with a deep divide between the right wing and the left wing. Mark my words, the right will use the excuse of our apparent political anarchy to move against not just the left but Greek democracy as a whole, and we will end up with a military dictatorship.”
Apart from my own suspicions, the main thing wrong with her, given that in every other respect she was perfect, was that she seemed to be a communist. Seemed, because it’s one thing talking that communist shit all the time—and she did—and quite another living under a communist government. Most of her political opinions were rubbish like that, the kind that had been rubbish in the 1930s, but were even more so now that it was generally known that the great leader, Stalin, had murdered so many in the name of brotherly love, and most of these were other communists. Whenever she started talking the left-wing janissary talk about how wonderful Russia was I kept my muzzle shut out of respect for what was going on in the Corinth Canal. But a couple of times I couldn’t resist teasing her with a glimpse of my own political underwear.
“I thought we weren’t going to talk politics.”
“This isn’t politics. This is history.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Don’t you think there is?”
“Not in Germany. Politics is always about history. Marx certainly thought so.”
“True.”
“I’m a Marxist,” I said.
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Sure I am. Over the years I’ve learned there’s no point in having any money or owning property, on account of how people want to take it and give it away to other people; Marxists, mostly. Or did I miss something?”
“But surely the GDR is better than the Federal Republic,” she said. “At least they have ideals. You can’t surely believe that Adenauer’s policy of political amnesty for Nazis was the right one. West Germany is nothing more than a front for American imperialism.”
I could have told her a lot about Russian imperialism but after twenty-five years of the right versus the left in Germany I was tired of the whole damned argument. Instead I tried to move the subject back to her, which was a subject of much greater interest.
“Look here, if the right wing is so powerful in Greece, then how come a lefty like you gets to keep her job in a government ministry?”
“I’m a civil servant, a lawyer, not a politician. And I keep my opinions to myself.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“One of the nicest things about speaking German with you, Christof, is that I’m able to speak freely. Isn’t that sad? I really can’t speak freely in my own language. That’s one of the reasons I agreed to come with you today. I can relax and be myself.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Anyway, I may be a communist but I’m not a revolutionary. And I strongly believe that this new EEC is probably the best chance Greece now has to avoid a right-wing coup d’état. They simply won’t let us join if we’re not a parliamentary democracy.”
It was a complicated world, whichever way you turned, and I was almost glad that all I had to worry about was getting home again.
“You know, you remind me of an old girlfriend of mine in Germany. She’s called Golden Lizzy and she stands on top of the Victory Column in Berlin. She’s got wings, too, and she’s meant to inspire us to do better things. At least that’s the way I always look at her.”
“Are you partial to angels?”
“Only the female ones.”
“Does Lizzy have any other talents?”
“She’s tall.”
“I wish I knew what you thought about things. But you don’t say.”
“I’m trying to work out why a country that produced the Parthenon and the Temple of Hephaestus doesn’t have much in the way of good modern architecture. Most of the public buildings in this country look like gas stations or high-security prisons. Vitruvius would have swallowed his set square.”
“Money, of course. There’s not much money for public building. The civil war left us even worse off than the Nazis. Anything else you’re trying to work out?”
“I’m German, so generally I’m working on something profoundly philosophical.”
“And what is it right now?”
“Lately I’ve been trying to work out why Mickey Mouse wears shorts and why Donald Duck wears a shirt, but no shorts at all. And how is it that Goofy talks and Pluto just barks? It’s a mystery to me.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No. Not at all. And maybe I just prefer to keep my opinions to myself. Anyway, they’re usually wrong. Or offensive. Or both wrong and offensive.”
“Try me. I’m really quite broad-minded.”
I wondered about that.
“You asked for it. Well, when a woman says she wishes she knew what some man is thinking it’s because she can’t understand why he hasn’t made a pass at her.”
Elli laughed. “Is that what I’m thinking?”
“Probably. But I figure you’ll tell me what you’re thinking on that score soon enough. I’m not about to waste either of my two remaining wishes on trying to work it out on my own.”
“What happened to the third wish?”
“You’re here in this car, aren’t you?”
Elli looked out the window and smiled, and we were silent for a couple of minutes while I negotiated a winding stretch of high mountain road.
“Aren’t you just a bit interested to know if I want you to make a pass at me, or not?”
“Not anymore. You just satisfied my curiosity on that one.”
“And?”
“Now I’d like to get back to Mickey and Donald.”
Elli laughed again. “You are the most infuriating man I’ve ever met. Do you know that?”
“Yes. I’m what you lawyers would call incorrigible.”
She put her cool hand on the back of my neck, where it felt good.
“You’re also very nice. Much more human than I would ever have thought possible. You’re really rather a considerate sort of man, I think.”
“My fatal charm. It never fails. Except when I’m relying on it to get me out of a jam such as my whole life since 1945.”
“What did you do during the war, Christof?”
“Not enough. But here’s a useful tip when you’re speaking German in Brussels. Unless you’re talking to Bertolt Brecht or Albert Einstein never ever ask a German what he did during the war. Not everyone appreciates it when they’re told barefaced lies.”