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At the mere mention of which, Gavro and Lutvo went to change into their uniforms.
'Utter dummies,' said Julka; while in the kitchen, fine Dabrinka washed wineglasses. My father didn't dare to watch her any more.
'Which brings us back to Wut,' Bijelo Slivnica said.
'I don't at all see how,' said Todor.
'Because the Ustashi need to be sure,' Bijelo said. 'Wut is a German. Germans kill Chetnik-Serbs, and lately, partisans. Partisans kill Chetnik-Serbs, and lately, Germans. The Ustashi will kill whatever the Germans want killed, but they don't want to kill partisans, if they can help it.'
'Why not?' my father asked.
'Because,' said Bijelo, 'the Ustashi will soon enough be killing Germans for the partisans, because in the end the partisans will win.'
'So what?' said Todor.
'So who does just about everyone want to kill?' Bijelo asked.
'Serbs!' said Todor.
And Bijelo Slivnica finally said, 'Then a Serb should kill Gottlob Wut. Because the Ustashi will support the German percentage proclamation and kill one hundred Serbs for the one German, Wut. So the Germans are appeased, and when the Red Army and the partisans team up and drive the Germans from Yugoslavia - there's the Ustashi, having a good reputation for killing Serbs, nasty Chetnik-types. So the partisans are happy to have the Ustashi along. And the Ustashi stay happy; they pick winners. And, of course, they get to settle the score with old Gottlob Wut. Now I ask you,' said Bijelo, 'how's that for thinking?'
'What Serb is ever going to kill Wut?' my father asked.
'You,' said Bijelo, 'only you make it look like the job was done by Zivanna Slobod, who really is a Serb. Then you'll have to kill her too. So the Ustashi and the Germans will round up ninety-nine other Serbs and bump them - to make the forewarned ratio come out right. One hundred to one, see?'
'Bijelo has a touch for making everyone happy,' said Todor.
But my father said, 'I don't think I want to kill Gottlob Wut.'
Julka brought her thighs together. Flap! they said. In the kitchen, Dabrinka broke a wineglass.
'Oh, dear,' said Baba.
And my father said to Bijelo, 'Well, if it happens like you say, the war will get old Wut anyway, won't it? And the Ustashi aren't so very interested in Wut, you said so yourself, anyway.'
The twins came in, in their uniforms, and paraded for everyone.
Bijelo, very calmly, said, 'Look, it would be on a Sunday. See the twins' uniforms? You carry one with you in a paper bag. Wut's having his endless bath, you see. And the lid on the flush box behind the toilet? It's porcelain right? And very, very heavy. So when Zivanna goes to get her pastries from the oven, you drop the flush-box lid on the bathing, unsuspecting Wut. Should submerge him quite handily. And where's Wut's sidearm holster? Hung on the bathroom mirror, isn't it? So you take the gun and shoot Zivanna when she brings back the pastries. Then you put on Gavro's or Lutvo's uniform, and call the German scout command. It's Sunday, remember; the motorcycle unit has the day off. It's spring, remember; they won't be sweating inside their barracks, either. German command takes you for one of Wut's regular drivers - you know their names, so give one. Just watch your irregular verbs. You tell a few tales about the Serbian woman - how you heard of a plot to kill Wut but you arrived too late. There are more than two million Serbs in Slovenia and Croatia. Surely the Ustashi and the Germans can round up ninety-nine in downtown Slovenjgradec. Shoot them all the same day too - I wouldn't be surprised.'
But Vratno said, 'I like Gottlob Wut.'
'Sure,' said Bijelo. 'I like him too.'
'We all like Gottlob Wut,' Todor said. 'But you like your job with us, don't you, Vratno?'
'Of course he does,' said Bijelo. 'Now why don't you try on a uniform, Vratno?'
But my father backed into the kitchen doorway; over his shoulder he could hear the squeak of a dishtowel on glass - the high, nervous sounds of Dabrinka's fast finger work.
'Why don't you try one on, now?' Todor said, and grabbed Lutvo, the nearest twin, and snatched down Lutvo's pants to his ankles, jerked up and dumped poor Lutvo on the floor.
Webfooted Baba prodded her still-uniformed brother Gavro toward the upturned face of the naked Lutvo - where Gavro behaved as a perfect twin and undressed himself. Todor then gathered the uniforms and flung them to my father in the kitchen doorway.
'Pick a uniform,' he said. 'Either one should do.'
My father, backing into the kitchen, heard the gentle Dabrinka break another wineglass, and was turning to lend assistance when Dabrinka's slim wrists skated over his shoulders; her fine, girlish fingers lightly pricked my father's jugular with the needlepoint of the wineglass's splintered stem.
'You try on one of those uniforms, please,' she said in Vratno's blushing ear. Which marked the first and only time there were ever words between them.
