Alone in Berlin Page #3

He won't give up.

It wasn't to be expected anyway.

Someone who takes one and a half

hours to draw that

is persistent.

Tried it myself.

- Oh, really?

- But rest assured,

I always find my man.

We run our

operation hobgoblin...

- Hobgoblin?

- Yes.

- I like that.

- Glad to hear then.

Judging by the distribution,

the man lives

somewhere around

Alexander square.

There were no cards here

at first

but now he doesn't want

to travel so far

and leaves more and more cards

in his own neighborhood.

- Heil Hitler, Standartenfuhrer.

-How many?

- He also includes

the eastern districts

and downtown. Here, look.

- I asked you

a question, Escherich.

How many?

- One hundred and twenty

seven, Standartenfuhrer.

One hundred and twenty nine,

to be exact

with these two

from this morning.

- More than a hundred!

- Yes.

- If more than a hundred cards

were turned in here

doesn't anyone of you wise asses

ever think about how much filth

is still circulating out there?

- With due respect,

let's think about human nature.

No one holds on

to these scribblings

longer than necessary...

-tell me who's been doing this

because I will be asked

and I have to answer.

Now.

- The heroic

battle of Stalingrad.

Someone has to write the truth

with all of these lies..

- What do you think happens

to our cards?

-Why do you want to know?

- I want to know

how people react.

- Some people will

be afraid, probably.

Afraid that someone may have

watched them pick up the card.

Some will maybe put them back.

Some people will turn them in

to policemen, block wardens

but our cards will also be

read by them.

-It's like with a machine.

A little sand in the gears

will not stop the machine..

But if a person throws

a little more sand

and, and more..

The motor begins to stutter

the assembly line stops.

In my mind I see lots of people

throwing sand in the gears.

- You are a romantic,

Otto Quangel.

-I'm a mechanic.

- Yeah, that, too.

-You are the romantic.

At least, you used to be.

-What? I, I used to be?

-Still, I saw you first

not the other way around.

-But you didn't say anything.

- You were dancing

with Peter Reinke

and then you went with him

to the Chestnut tree

you with your crown of flowers

laughing as if he was

incredibly funny.

Reinke with his stupid haircut.

He's bald now

and a member of the party.

- I would have

danced with you, too

but you didn't ask.

- You knew the way

I looked at you.

Anyway, I asked you

two years later.

-Not to dance.

So you'd like a dance?

-No, just..

-Is that him, approximately?

-Yes, pretty much. Uh..

His eyes might be a little bit

further apart. It was dark, uh..

- Thank you. You've done

the Reich a great service.

- Heil Hitler, inspector.

- Fraulein Schaefer.

Have this passed around.

"Pass the information.

Join the free press.

"Fear has taken control of you.

Kill it. Kill Hitler."

It's a man

who is no longer young

who lost his only son

in the French campaign.

Inexperienced at writing,

but intelligent.

The style has visibly changed

during the course of the year.

In recent months, he has used

the title, "free press."

He's working in an

increasingly professional way.

He never leaves fingerprints,

he operates strategically.

He never chooses the same

street twice in a row.

He always changes

between these streetcar lines

seven, nine and 11.

"Each thought against

the national socialists

is like sand

in the criminal war machine."

"Pass on this card.

Free press."

"How many children have to die?"

"Fear is their only weapon.

Free press."

"Help us to put an end

to the criminal war machine."

Zott, again and again

the picture of a machine.

-Papers.

Papers.

- Today is the 22nd.

Today.

- Birthday.

Sometimes I feel the danger

as if it were so physical.

I actually feel it.

- Please, don't frighten me.

-No.

To Hans.

- Hans.

- No, inspector Escherich isn't

in his office. Just a moment.

Operator speaking.

Incoming call from

the Lothringer street section.

Reported arrest of suspect

in the hobgoblin case.

Yes, I'll put you through.

-Anna.

-Oh, hello, Walter.

- Did he run away? Poor girl.

- No.

I just brought him

his lunch box. He left it again.

- Oh, I thought he was ill.

He isn't here.

- Anna, how are you doing?

You look great.

I'm getting married soon!

- Hanging's too good for you!

- Traitor!

- You're a traitor!

You're an enemy to the people!

- Oh!

- What are you doing here?

- Oh, wait.

We said we'd do this together.

Why didn't you go to work?

- Not now.

-Traitor!

- Do you know

what my day was like?

No. You don't think

of that, do you?

Finding you're not at work

and then thinking you're

still inside that building.

You know what that's

like for me?

What is it, Otto?

You want to get caught?

Is that what it is?

- Nothing happened.

- Nothing happened?

Did you see who they arrested?

- A bum.

He probably stole something.

It has nothing to do with us.

- That's the husband

of our postmistress.

What makes you think

it has nothing to do with us?

-They're divorced.

- That doesn't mean anything,

damn it!

I was so afraid for you.

What if it's a, a sign,

if it's a warning?

-It isn't.

Stay calm.

Remember, when Hans died..

You said

your life wasn't worth a thing?

You were right.

That's why we can be free

why we don't have to be afraid.

-But your life

Otto, your life

means something to me now

means, means..

Everything to me now.

- We said we'd do this together.

-Oh..

- We won't stop.

- Aren't you afraid?

- Today I stayed again to watch.

I need to see what happens

when people read it.

-Come.

- My sick certificate

had expired.

That's why

I went to see the doctor.

They send me to a camp

otherwise. Please!

I swear

by the lives of my children.

Please.

- Two sons?

And they're both

soldiers, right?

- Both of them. Yes.

One of them

is even in the Waffen-ss.

- And they're both alive,

I hope?

-Yes. Here.

Our Karl, in Poland.

-Well... That's good news.

- So the man was caught

red-handed. There are witnesses.

And here, the Corpus Delicti.

It's obviously the writing

of our hobgoblin.

Come on, Escherich.

We've got him.

- You know the criminal's

profile as well as I do, Zott.

We're looking for a mechanic

who lost his only son.

And then you drag in

this ridiculous character

a gambler

who doesn't even live

near our target area

with two children

who are very much alive.

- Does that,

does that mean you believe me?

- Yes. You can go.

- Thank you. Thank you.

- Get out.

- God bless you.

Thank you very much.

-Bravo.

- You did what?

You let your hobbygobby go?

- Hobgoblin, Standartenfuhrer.

With due respect

you may be my superior,

but as a member of the ss

you're not necessarily

a criminalist.

I'm a policeman, and I'm

asking you to let me do my job

just as I have learned

from my experience..

-Experience?

I know all about guys like you.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes