‘Maybe.’
‘Sounds like that reporter,’ said Torsten.
Steffan agreed.
‘He probably just wanted to talk to you. Everyone at the funeral has been cleared.’
Saul looked skeptical and Steffan decided to move on bringing the topic back to what he wanted to discuss.
‘I can show you a photograph of him if you like, but I wouldn’t worry about it. Rudi Pascal; however, despite trying to pass himself off as a semi intellectual, is a very dangerous man. You were photographed going into one of his clubs. It is him my colleagues were watching, not you.’
Saul popped another pill.
‘Can I have a mint?’ said Torsten.
‘No,’ said Saul.
Torsten looked hurt.
‘It was mistaken identity. I was visiting Edna Blum and they thought I was Isaac.
‘What did he want?’ said Steffan.
‘Isaac owed him money.’
‘How much?’
‘Three thousand.’
‘Sounds like a good motive to me,’ said Torsten raising his eyebrows.
‘No, he didn’t know that Isaac was dead,’ said Saul.
‘You think so? It’s been all over the papers,’ said Steffan. He let this news sink in. ‘I want you to listen to me, Saul. I catch liars for a living and I am good at it. This man you met has killed people for a lot less than three thousand. So tell me you are going to stop playing detective and leave this to us.’
‘I will,’ said Saul.
‘You need to work on your lying,’ said Steffan.
‘Can you drive me home?’
Steffan snorted a laugh.
‘Why not?’
CHAPTER 19
The photograph of the young SS officer lay on the table. All the adults had gathered around to hear the results of Mira’s work. They had turned on all the lights as if this should give no dark corner for lies and fear to survive but all Saul saw were the cracks in the ceiling.
Despite feeling drained from his own research, when Saul saw the photograph a rush of energy flooded his system and Saul felt like a child hiding his own secret from the world. He studied Manfred Fuchs as seen in the photograph. Fuchs was staring at something, just off camera, his lips giving the vaguest hint of a smile. Saul recognised him at once. He had seen that smile many times except the things he smiled at were not humorous in the least.
The memories attempted a mutiny but Saul managed to keep them in check remembering that for all intents and purposes he did not know this man. That was a lie he would never give up willingly. Fuchs looked good, he thought, better than he remembered him: every bit the cultured German soldier, but then the picture would have been taking before he had arrived at Auschwitz. Auschwitz took its toll on everyone that worked there, not just the victims. It was as if bearing witness to all that death and suffering drained the life force out all in the vicinity even if they believed in the cause.
We were objects to them.
Aside from the photograph there were some photocopied pages from various books. Hannah making her own contribution had laid out a small spread of nibbles for them to eat, but so far only Aaron was indulging.
Mira waited until the pleasantries were out of the way before picking up her notebook. She commanded the audience to silence with a raised finger. They settled like good children eager to hear a bedtime story.
‘Oberscharführer (Sergeant) Manfred Fuchs. Born in Dortmund, March 2nd 1923. Father worked in the mines. Hitler Youth member and signed up as soon as he could. He spent most of his time at various concentration camps. Eyewitnesses say he was fanatical in his work and an outstanding marksman, rising very quickly through the ranks. Transferred to Auschwitz in 1942, where he earned his final promotion to Sergeant in 1944. Performing mainly guard and supervisory duties in the concentration camps and on the evacuation marches, thereby participating in the subjection of POW's and civilian nationals of nations at war with Germany to cruelties and mistreatment. Mishandling and killing of prisoners by various means, including shooting, gassing and administration of lethal injections. Killed defending Berlin 1945,’ she closed her notebook. ‘And that’s where the trail ends. No surviving family members, he never married and never had kids. He’d be sixty-four now, if he’s still alive.’
There was a moment of stunned silence.
‘You found out all that in a day?’ said Hannah.
‘The Nazis liked their records,’ said Mira.
‘What about the film?’ said Saul.
Mira picked up a manila envelope from the table and removed the partial remains of a colour photograph. It showed a middle-aged woman with blonde hair. She seemed to be outside on a windy day and she was captured brushing her hair out of her face. The background was out of focus, but it could have been a café or beer garden.
‘That’s all there was,’ said Mira. ‘Apparently the plastic bag leaked.’
‘Who is that?’ said Hannah.
There was no reply. Saul’s heart sunk. Didn’t he deserve to be lucky this once? Having recently born witness to Isaac’s predilection for women, who was to say he did not sneak pictures of them too? He looked at Mira who seemed to be equally disappointed and then it occurred to him that perhaps she was lying. What if she was holding back? He had not noticed any rip in the bag when he handed it over to her. He was glad he had not trusted them entirely now. If he had to go on alone he would.
‘Maybe he’s had a sex change?’ added Aaron smiling.
Mira punched him in the arm.
‘What? That’s it. We have nothing. She could be anybody from any time in any city,’ Aaron said defending his facetious statement.
‘That’s not it. He is alive. Someone is killing them,’ said Saul.
‘Good. I believe you,’ said Aaron. ‘How do we find a man who’s been dead for forty years?’ demanded Aaron.
Hannah glared at Saul.
CHAPTER 20
The following day had proved to be a game of cat and mouse. Saul had spent the morning trying to avoid all contact with his wife. This was easy enough in the early hours when he left for work but as they worked at the same place as soon as she arrived to open the store the fun started. At least, that was how Timo and Anja saw things.
When Hannah entered the kitchen and Saul found something to do in the shop front or the store cupboard or the walk-in freezer. On several occasions Hannah had tried to talk to Saul and he had not answered her. Hannah, not wanting to have a scene at work had backed down leaving the two employees to speculate as to the cause of the strife. What cause did old people have to be angry at each other? Was Saul cheating on her?
The final straw for Anja came when Hannah asked her to ask Saul to join her in the office. Anja had done as asked only to have Saul tell her to tell Hannah that he was too busy. Anja was immediately transported back to her childhood, where she had often delivered messages between her warring parents and flipped out, refusing to be the go-between and leaving for her lunch break. Hannah, unaware of this, remained in the office waiting for Saul, who never showed up. Finally she busied herself with work and spoke neither to her employees or Saul for the rest of the day. That day regular customers bristled at the polite curtness that greeted their friendly attempts at chitchat.
In the late afternoon Hannah walked into the kitchen and announced to the room:
‘We were supposed to pick up Aisha this afternoon. Are you coming?’
Saul acted like nothing had happened.
‘Of course,’ he said and started to pack away his things.
#
They drove in silence for most of the way pretending to listen to the classical music radio station: Schubert’s fantasy in F minor. Saul let the haunting piano transport him to a place where one could be happy and sad at the same time. He spotted some interesting clouds in the sky and involved himself in their business; their movement in synchrony to the music. It was not until they approached the Kindergarten that
Hannah realised she had a captive audience.
‘Why don’t you tell them you knew this Fuchs?’
‘I didn’t know him. We weren’t friends. I was a number to him that’s all.’
This was truer than most people knew. When they were spoken to the guards never used their names at all. They were addressed either by their number or as was most common, by nothing at all: the instructions being barked at them.
Hannah had correctly identified that look of determination in Saul’s eyes last night. He was not going to let this go.
‘Then let’s just forget about it,’ she said. ‘We have our own problems.’
Saul was enraged: the woman simply did not understand.
‘I’m next! Don’t you understand? We were all Sonderkommando: Mark, Isaac and me. He’s killing us all.’
This thought had not occurred to Hannah before and yet it was so obvious. She stamped on the breaks and brought the car to a dead stop. Saul felt his seat belt cut into him as it restrained his advance into the dashboard and then released him when they were out of danger.
‘We have to go to the police,’ said Hannah.
‘No.’
‘This is madness. Do you want to die?’
‘I’m dead already.’
This worried Hannah more than anything he had said before. Just what was he planning?
‘Then what is it? Revenge? I don’t understand why you won’t call the police.’
Saul leant in threateningly.
‘Trust them? Like we did the last time?’
‘It was different then. I’ll call them myself.’
‘It’s always different! Do you know how many I led to their deaths knowing I couldn’t raise a finger to help? Can you even conceive what that feels like? No, you fucking can’t. I can do something about it this time, don't you see? I don’t have to be so fucking useless. And you dare call the police.’
Hannah, stunned by his vehemence, stared at her husband as if he had truly gone mad. They locked eyes for no more than a few moments before Saul unclipped his seatbelt and stormed out of the car, slamming the door behind him.
‘Saul!’ she called after him.
But he kept walking and the honking car behind her was a reminder that she was blocking traffic. It was her turn to get angry. If he wanted to risk his life, so be it. He deserved all that came his way. It had not been easy to learn his news, to learn that he had kept something from her since the day they had met. He had helped to kill Jews to save his own life. She’d lost most of her extended family to the camps and she wondered if Saul had met any. Hannah swallowed it all away. It was her past too, something she did not even think about much anymore. The fact was that you get on with the business of living no matter what you have been through. In a way, she could understand: you did what you did. But the shame was there nevertheless. And the doubt: Had Saul killed? He was dying and could not accept it. This she could understand but how could she be expected to care for a man who did not care for himself? Sooner or later he would realise she was right or would simply forget about the whole thing as the illness took its course and would be more amenable to reason but up until that point he was on his own. She hit the gas.
‘-bomb us?’
CHAPTER 21
‘Because we’re not that lucky,’ said Saul.
They were both watching the skies as the B-24’s rumbled overhead.
‘British?’
‘American, I think.’
‘But surely they can see what’s happening here? One bomb could end it all.’
‘What makes you think they care?’
‘What’s wrong with you, Saul? They are the allies.’
‘They don’t know what’s happening here.’
‘Sure they do. They can take pictures.’
‘Then they don’t care.’
‘We are unlucky. You would think that after all this our luck would change.’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’
CHAPTER 22
The first thing that Saul remembered was the mossy smell given off by the oak trees. He was in Tiergarten and had no idea how he had gotten there.
He tried to piece it together while watching the leaves sway in the breeze. He had been at work, he was sure of that as he could feel the flour residue on his fingers. He decided he must have wanted to take a walk on this fine day; why else would he be in the park?
Saul started to walk on the lush grass. Being a weekday it was not too busy: a smattering of sunbathers, picnic parties and mothers passing the time with their children. He also noticed some joggers. The craze from America had arrived a few years ago and had found a loyal following in this city.
He loved this park and he was glad they decided to keep it and replant it. He remembered returning to the city and finding the park bare of everything. The Berliners had cut down all the trees for firewood. In the end it all came down to survival. He knew what man was capable of doing in order to preserve his life. Hadn’t he done the same when faced with the choice?
No, in actuality there had been no choice: nobody chose where and when. Even when people believed they were choosing and were in control they were ultimately making choices that had been determined by others. In all the years at the camp only one Sonderkommando that he knew of had killed himself.
David and he had never gotten along and Saul had never known why. He reasoned it was because he was much more liked by his colleagues, but could not be sure; sometimes you just took a dislike to someone. In Auschwitz that could be fatal. David had reported him once to the Kapo and Saul had received a severe beating with a truncheon. The Kapo had simply come up to Saul in front of the others and let loose and did not stop until the older men had begged that Saul was useful: he was the professor.
There was never any confirmation, and Saul never knew what information had been told but Saul knew David had done it and from that day on they stayed out each other’s way, patrolling their own sections of the changing room.
As Saul walked it occurred to him that perhaps he had simply been beaten for no reason at all. In a place where logic and normal social conventions did not exist what reason need there be? None of it made sense.
In any event Saul’s beating split the team: half with Saul and half with David. It wasn’t bad enough that they had to cooperate in the deaths of their fellow man but they also fought their own political battles. Saul and his men plotted revenge. The SS would not mourn one more dead Jew; but in the end it had not been necessary.
One day, David met his mother in the changing room and when she had asked what would become of them, David had found himself unable to continue the lie. He had told his mother that all would be well and to prove it he would go with her: he had stripped off his clothes and joined her in the gas chamber. Later Saul had pried them apart and dragged them to the lift that would take them one floor up to the ovens.
The act had been so profound that it was at once baffling and understandable to the Sonderkommando. Many had met their families and friends in the changing rooms but up until then none had made the choice to join them. It was also not uncommon for stokers to find that they were shovelling their own wives and children into the furnaces and none of them had found it impossible to go on doing the job and surviving. The truth was that they had to survive and however they dressed it up life was life and was worth holding onto and there were a myriad of excuses one could make: to survive to tell the tale and hopefully see the SS punished for their crimes; to make sure the world did not forget; to find a chance of escape; if I die I would simply be replaced; or plain selfishness.
Saul believed that they had all become machines, robots that felt nothing and could therefore carry out the horrendous tasks that were asked of them. The SS were smart about that; they knew that a man could get used to anything and given time new members of the Sonderkommando would become desensitised to the horror. Hence, new members dealt with the de
ad bodies during initiation and only when they too had died inside did the SS deem them fit for other tasks.
But being a robot was no easy thing: those feelings that were bottled; that mind that was truncated were in a constant state of rebellion and hence many robots needed the oil of alcohol to continue and those that did not prayed to their false Gods.
As Saul walked the index and middle finger of his right hand came together. It looked almost like he was holding a –
- cigarette. Young Saul lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs and lift his spirits.
In the park a passerby gave Saul a quizzical look and kept walking. Perhaps pretending to smoke was the new thing?
The young Saul continued his stroll until a whimpering caught his attention. He stopped and stared into the bushes. The sound had definitely come from there.
He took a step towards the bushes and stopped when he heard the sound again: A woman. Why wasn’t she in the changing room or the gas chamber? Had she escaped somehow? It was obvious she was in distress and Saul decided at once to help her.
Edging towards the bushes he made out another sound now: that of a man, grunting, having his way with the woman. Lovers in a place like this? Saul decided to give them a wide berth. They deserved some privacy.
It was her scream that stopped him in his tracks. Saul faced the thrashing bushes unsure of what to do. Unexpectedly, from out of the bushes sprang the young Manfred Fuchs, straightening his grey service uniform and dragging a twelve-year old girl behind him. Saul could see that she had been beaten. Fuchs let her go for long enough to do up his trousers.
‘Now she can die a woman, eh?’
Drawing his pistol with one hand and pulling the girl up by her hair with the other, Fuchs shot her through the head in one fluid motion.
Blood and brains splattered the young Saul.
Saul screamed and screamed and screamed and as he screamed people in the park came running to see a crazy old man having a fit and slapping his face. The onlookers stopped at a safe distance not daring to come forward. The ones with children were the first to turn back having to physically restrain their children from looking at a sight that might scar them; thinking ahead for ways to answer the questions that would surely follow. The others soon followed suit, leaving Saul to rage against his visions.
The White House Page 13
