Chapters (50)
- Praise
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Teaser chapter
I nodded, remembering the number tattooed on Engelbertina’s forearm. With the possible exception of Erich Kaufmann, the Jewish lawyer who had given me my first case in Munich, I hadn’t ever met a Jew from one of the Nazi death camps. Most of them were dead, of course. The rest were in Israel or America. And the only reason I knew about the number was because I had read a magazine article about Jewish prisoners being tattooed and, at the time, it had struck me that at least a Jew could wear such a tattoo with a certain amount of pride. My own SS number, tattooed under my arm, had been removed, rather painfully, with the aid of a cigarette lighter. “Is she Jewish?” I asked. I didn’t know if Zehner was a Jewish name. But I could see no other explanation for the blue numbers on her arm.
Gruen nodded. “She was in Auschwitz-Birkenau. That was one of the worst camps. It’s near Kraków, in Poland.”
I felt the eyebrows lift on my forehead. “Does she know? About you and Heinrich? And about me? That we were all in the SS?”
“What do you think?”
“I think if she knew she would be on the first train to the DP camp at Landsberg,” I said. “And then on the next ship for Israel. Why on earth would she stay?” I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m going to like it here after all.”
“Well, you’re in for a surprise,” Gruen said, almost proudly. “She does know. About me and Heinrich, anyway. What’s more, she doesn’t care.”
“Good God, why? I don’t understand that at all.”
“It’s because after the war,” said Gruen, “she became a Roman Catholic. She believes in forgiveness and she believes in the work being done at the laboratory.” He frowned. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Bernie. Her conversion is not without precedent. Jews were the first Christians, you know.” He shook his head in wonder. “For how she’s dealt with what happened to her, I really admire her.”
“Hard not to, I suppose. When you look at her.”
“Besides, all that insanity is behind us.”
“So I was led to believe.”
“Forgive and forget. That’s what Engelbertina says.”
“Funny thing about forgiveness,” I said. “Someone has to look and act like they’re sorry for there to be any chance of real forgiveness.”
“Everyone in Germany is sorry for what happened,” said Gruen. “You believe that, don’t you?”
“Sure we’re sorry,” I said. “We’re sorry we got beat. We’re sorry our cities got bombed to rubble. We’re sorry our country is occupied by the armies of four other countries. We’re sorry our soldiers are accused of war crimes and imprisoned in Landsberg. We’re sorry we lost, Eric. But not for much else. I just don’t see the evidence.”