"The other four came back covered in mud. They had searched the blasted plain for over an hour. There was no trace of him. Hoxa became a legend after that, even into the Second World War. They used to say that whenever a Bulgarian unit was pinned down that Captain Hoxa's ghost would--"

"I'm familiar with the ghost stories surrounding Captain Hoxa," Ramsay said, interrupting me.

"What did you do right after you were deactivated?" asked the Egyptian, rubbing at his eyes.

"Well, I was never the same after that."

"What do you mean?"

"You have to understand my father was a church elder of an orthodox sect. I was brought up in a utopian world of Christian values. That world didn't exist for me any longer. I had seen what men created in God's own image could do to one another. It became obvious within a few weeks of my return that my father and I were going to be at odds. It seemed strange, even comical to me that I had ever been so naive as to have lived comfortably, even happily in that lost world my father had brought me into. After several heated arguments, we fell into the habit of not speaking about anything that wasn't directly related to the operation of the farm. That's the point at which I tried to buy my own land, but he died before I could find anything suitable."

"There was something said earlier about you living in exile in Turkey. Tell me about the events that led up to you leaving Bulgaria," the Egyptian ordered.

"I stayed on the land with my wife through the Second World War until the Communists took over and nationalized everything. We were arrested after we refused to surrender our farm. I served a year and a half in prison. She died shortly after she started a similar sentence. I escaped to Turkey the same year I was released and lived in Istanbul until my death."

"What was the name of the prison where you served?"

"It didn't have a name. It had a number, State prison number four."

"When were you interned exactly?"

"December 1946 until June 1948."

"Where was State prison number four located?"

"On the outskirts of Sofia."

"How did you escape to Turkey?"

"I walked."

"What did you do to earn money in Istanbul?"

"I found work in the open air vegetable markets carrying crates."

"What did Vanya die of?"

"I don't know, I was in prison."

Silence.

"She was interred at the same time as you?"

"It was about the same time, within days probably. I can't be sure."

The old man in the center leaned forward deliberately. The other members of the panel deferred their attention to him. "It's late," he said. "Let's stop here and take tomorrow night off. We'll pick it up the night after." The members of the gallery stood up and spoke softly among themselves as soon as the old man leaned back.