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Back The One from the Other Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Praise
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. EPILOGUE
  49. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  50. Teaser chapter

I thought of Britta Warzok and how it didn’t make any sense her retaining me if she had any idea that Father Gotovina was part of the Comradeship. Unless she did know all along and I was just too stupid to see through what she had been up to. Which of course I didn’t. The stupid detective. It had a nice ring to it. Like it might just have been true.

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-FIVE

The next day Heinrich Henkell turned up for the weekend and declared he was going straight on to his laboratory. Gruen wasn’t feeling very well and had stayed in bed, so Henkell offered to take me with him.

“Besides,” he added, by way of an extra reason for me to accompany him. “You’ve not really seen anything of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, have you, Bernie?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well then, you must come along and have a look. It would do you good to get out of here for a while.”

We drove slowly down the mountain, which was just as well, since, around a bend, we encountered a small herd of cattle crossing the road that ran parallel to the railway track. A little farther on, Henkell explained just how significant the railway track was in Garmisch-Partenkirchen.

“The railway line provides the clearest division between the two old towns,” he said. “Garmisch, on our left and to the east of the track, is a little more modern. Not least because that’s where the Olympic ski stadium is. Partenkirchen, to the west of the track, feels a lot older. It’s also where most of the Amis are based.”

As we drove onto Bahnhofstrasse and along Zugspitzstrasse, he pointed out the façades of houses that were decorated with what were called “air paintings,” some of them resembling the façades on some of Munich’s elaborate rococo churches. Garmisch-Partenkirchen could not have seemed more Catholic if the pope had owned a ski chalet there. But the town also looked prosperous, and it was easy to see why. There were Americans everywhere, as if the war had only just ended. Most of the vehicles on the roads were Jeeps and U.S. Army trucks and, on every second building, was hanging the Stars and Stripes. It was hard to believe we were in Germany at all.

“My God, look at it,” I exclaimed. “Next thing, they’ll be painting frescoes of Mickey Mouse on the buildings they’ve requisitioned.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” said Henkell. “And you know, they mean well.”

“So did the Holy Inquisition,” I said. “Pull up at that tobacconist’s. I need to get some Luckies.”

“Didn’t I warn you about smoking?” he said, but he pulled up anyway.

“With all this fresh air around?” I said. “Where’s the harm?”