My brother, Tayte thought as he subconsciously reasserted his grip on the gun. But as much as he wanted to end this story, he was compelled to know what happened, or spend the rest of his life wondering, not that he felt he had a very long life ahead of him at this juncture.
‘What did you do?’ he said through his teeth.
‘I found your brother in an open basket in the passenger foot-well of the jeep your mother was driving. He was wrapped so snugly in so many blankets, I almost missed him. But then he began to cry. If my curiosity to look at Johann’s grandson hadn’t got the better of me, I’m sure I could have driven my knife into that bundle without giving it a second thought, but look I did, and then I knew I couldn’t kill him. Unlike you, he had Johann’s blue eyes, you see. He was a beautiful Aryan boy—my beautiful Aryan boy.’
A sudden onset of dizziness almost overcame Tayte as he realised who Strobel was referring to. The gun suddenly felt so heavy, but he held it up. ‘Rudi?’ he said, his brow set in a deep furrow. He could scarcely believe it, yet if it were true it meant that his brother was still alive, and living right there in Munich. His fraternal twin.
Strobel nodded. ‘I saw that baby boy as my opportunity to repent for what I had done to Johann. I would raise his flesh and blood as though it were my own. I would give his child everything, and in so doing I would sleep all the better for having made amends. And for a time, I did, but it didn’t last.’
‘That’s the most twisted thing I’ve ever heard,’ Tayte said.
‘Would you rather I’d killed him? Believe me, Mr Tayte, if it had been you wrapped in that bundle—if your mother had hidden your brother away first instead of you—I would not have hesitated.’
Tayte fell silent, considering how his life had hung in the balance according to which of her children his mother chose to protect first. He thought back to his visit to the Catholic mission in San Rafael, Sinaloa where she had left him, and he heard Sister Manriquez’s words again as she told him what his mother had said as she handed him over. For the child’s own protection … Tayte knew now how true those words had been.
‘How can I believe you’ll let me go, when you know I’ll tell Rudi everything?’ Tayte said. ‘He’ll know who you really are, and what you did. He’ll hate you for it.’
‘But don’t you see? I want Rudi to know.’
‘Why, so you can mess with his head, too? You want that to be your parting gift to him after you’re dead?’
‘After I’m dead, he’s going to find out sooner or later. I’ve provided well for those who know who I really am, but after I’m gone they will have no one to fear. Eventually someone will talk. I don’t want Rudi to read about it in the newspapers, and who better to tell him than his own brother? It’s because of my love for Rudi that I want you to live, Mr Tayte, so you can be there for him when the time comes. But you must pull that trigger.’
‘So you won’t be around to face the music? You’re a coward!’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Strobel said. ‘It doesn’t change anything.’ With that, he lifted his hands to the gun and held the muzzle between his open palms, steadying Tayte’s aim.
‘I can’t do it,’ Tayte said.
‘Yes you can. You just need a little more encouragement. I’m going to finish telling you about your mother, and then you’re going to pull the trigger and this will all be over.’
Tayte shook his head. He didn’t want to hear about his mother. He could feel his cheek bones throbbing painfully as he fought to hold back the tears welling inside him.
‘Now as I was saying, when I finally caught up with your mother she was in Mexico. I’d followed her along a dusty track in the middle of nowhere and I ran her jeep off the road. Then I walked calmly up to her as she lay tangled in the wreckage, and I slit her throat.’
A sigh trembled from Tayte’s lips, as if the life had just drained from his own body. He pictured the photograph he had of his mother and the first tear broke and fell onto his cheek. He could hold them back no longer. His lips were still trembling as he extended the gun closer to Strobel, and with the muzzle now no more than two inches from Strobel’s face, Tayte watched the old man bow his head towards it, as though he knew he had done enough to make Tayte pull the trigger.
Chapter Forty-Six
Tayte had suddenly lost all concept of where he was and why he was there. Through a thick veil of hatred and tears, all he could see was the gun shaking in his hand and the man who had destroyed generations of his family: his parents, Sarah and Karl, his paternal grandparents, Johann and Ava, and his great-grandparents, Adelina and Gerhard Bauer. And he was responsible for the murder of his uncle, Geoffrey Johnston. Tayte had never felt so much loathing towards anyone in his life, and he’d encountered a few candidates in his time. All of them combined didn’t come close to how he felt about Volker Strobel.
Tayte tried to tell himself that Strobel deserved to die, and that he would be doing the world a favour, but he reminded himself then that his family were not Strobel’s only victims—far from it. The Demon of Dachau had been responsible for the murders of thousands upon thousands of people. He thought about Elijah and Tobias Kaufmann, and their life-long quest to bring Strobel to justice, to face trial for his crimes against humanity, and it was then that the idea of pulling that trigger seemed entirely selfish to Tayte. He withdrew the gun, and a moment later he tossed it away, removing any last temptation he might have had to pull the trigger.
At hearing it clatter to the floor, Strobel looked up again, disappointment written all over his face. ‘So you can’t do it, either,’ he said. ‘Just as your grandfather couldn’t do it when he came after me that night at Dachau.’ Strobel sighed. ‘But I must thank you for the thrill you’ve given me. I haven’t felt that much exhilaration in a long time.’ His expression became suddenly quizzical. ‘But what is it that makes us so different?’ he asked. ‘I would have shot you to save my own life, and without a moment’s hesitation or remorse. But you … Why should you place such value in the life of someone you have every reason to hate? I really can’t understand it.’
‘I think you just answered your own question,’ Tayte said, choking back his emotions. ‘If you understood, you wouldn’t have done the terrible things you’ve done.’
‘Perhaps I would have been more like Johann, eh? You know, you shouldn’t think ill of your grandfather because of who he was or what he represented. I knew him. He was a kind and considerate man. If you had been a young boy growing up in Germany in Johann’s place, don’t think for a moment that you wouldn’t also have been a member of the Hitler Youth. You, too, would have been so proud of your country, and by the time your education and training was complete, you would have gladly fought alongside your Kameraden for the things you had come to believe in.’ Strobel paused and smiled to himself. ‘I, on the other hand, am quite Johann’s opposite. But they say opposites attract, don’t they?’
Tayte wiped his eyes. He really didn’t want to get into a conversation about Strobel’s psyche and the things that made him tick. ‘So what happens now? I suppose you get to shoot me instead, right?’
‘My education centre must still burn tonight,’ Strobel said. ‘By now Max will have seen to it that the place goes up in flames at the slightest spark.’ The prospect seemed to excite Strobel. ‘Perhaps I’ll give the order and we’ll both sit here like this, beneath the image of my beloved Führer, until the flames come for us.’ He laughed. ‘Then we will both be fighting over that bullet, won’t we?’
Tayte was about to answer, but just as he went to speak, his attention was drawn to the door. He heard a thud, followed by a gunshot that reverberated around the corridor outside the room. When the door opened a few seconds later, he expected to see Keller or Fleischer walk in, one perhaps having betrayed the other for reasons he could not yet fathom, but instead it was Rudi Langner who entered, and Tayte now saw him as though for the first time. There stood his own flesh and blood.
‘Ist das wahr?’ he called
. Is it true?
‘Mein Sohn,’ Strobel said under his breath.
Tayte thought Strobel’s expression looked as confused as his own. ‘He’s not your son.’ He watched the old man cower from Rudi as he strode towards them, his enraged face red and glistening with tears. For the first time Tayte thought Strobel looked terrified. Tayte noticed then that Rudi had a gun in his hand. He thought it was Ingrid Keller’s gun. He was just thinking that his day couldn’t get any more complicated when he saw someone he’d thought he would never see again.
‘Jean!’
She followed into the room soon after Rudi, shaking her right hand, as though she had just hit it on something, or someone. Beyond the door, Tayte could see Keller lying on the floor. Jean ran to Tayte as soon as she saw him, and by now Rudi had already arrived at Strobel’s side. Words were exchanged in German, which Tayte couldn’t understand, but he gathered from Rudi’s tone and body language that he was both angry and distraught. A moment later Tayte flinched as Rudi slapped his father across the face. Suddenly Jean was beside him.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked her. ‘How did you find me?’
Jean leaned in and kissed Tayte hard on the lips, as if she, too, thought she might never see him again. ‘I’ll explain later,’ she said. ‘We have to get you out of here.’
She removed a shoe and smashed the heel into the portrait of Adolf Hitler. The glass shattered and she began to cut Tayte free with one of the pieces. In the background, the conversation between Rudi and Strobel was growing more and more aggravated, the gun in Rudi’s hand waving with abandon.
‘Rudi knows who his adoptive father is,’ Jean said. ‘He’s inconsolable.’
‘I’ll bet he is,’ Tayte said, thinking that was only the half of it. ‘He’s my brother. Rudi’s my fraternal twin.’
Jean stopped cutting away at the tape for a moment and just stared at him, motionless and clearly dumbfounded. Then she continued working the piece of glass. ‘Well you’d better hold off telling him for now,’ she said. ‘He’s too wound up. I don’t think he can take any more surprises today.’
As soon as Tayte’s arms and chest were free, Jean went to work on the tape around his legs. ‘I could smell some kind of fuel when we came in,’ she said. ‘It’s what led us down here.’
‘Strobel plans to turn the place into his own cremation oven.’
Their attention was drawn to Rudi then as he aimed the gun at Strobel.
Strobel’s hand shot out in front of him. ‘Mein Sohn, bitte!’
‘Sie sind nicht mein Vater! Ich kenne Sie nicht!’ Rudi replied, and Tayte could see in his eyes that he was going to pull the trigger. He saw that Strobel knew it, too.
‘Don’t do it, Rudi!’ Tayte called, but his words didn’t seem to reach him.
All Tayte could think at that moment was that Strobel had to face his accusers—justice had to be served. And for Rudi’s sake, Tayte couldn’t sit there and witness another innocent life, his brother’s life, being destroyed because of Strobel. As Rudi stepped closer, his gun arm stiffened with determination, and before Tayte’s bonds were fully cut, he leapt out of his seat, taking the wheelchair with him. There was a clatter and the gun went off as both men fell to the floor, and it was then Tayte knew he’d been shot.
The pain in Tayte’s side from the bullet that had just hit him was surprisingly mild at first, but it soon intensified. He thought perhaps he was merely having a psychosomatic reaction to the stress he’d been under since going to see the man whom he’d thought was his grandfather, Johann Langner, but the sight of his own blood seeping through his shirt as Jean knelt beside him and lifted his suit jacket away told him the trauma was very real.
Jean grabbed his hand and placed it over the wound. ‘Keep it there,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it hurts, but you need to put pressure on it to slow the bleeding.’ She shook her head at him. ‘What were you thinking? You could have been killed.’
‘Sorry,’ Tayte offered. He winced. ‘I’ll think twice before I do it again, believe me.’ He lay still as Jean cut the rest of him free from the wheelchair. As he looked up, he saw Rudi, who was already on his feet.
‘It’s me who’s sorry,’ Rudi said. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to—’
‘It’s okay,’ Tayte cut in, smiling, despite the circumstances, at the man he now saw as his brother. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.’
Tayte hoped he was right. He saw Volker Strobel again then, now ashen faced as he peered down from his wheelchair. Tayte thought it ironic that he’d just taken a bullet for this man, not that he expected any gratitude for it. From the look on Strobel’s face, Tayte thought his actions, and the fact that he’d just saved the old man’s life, had only served to annoy him, which was fine with Tayte.
He extended his free hand to Rudi. ‘Here, help me up, will you?’
Tayte wanted to tell Rudi he believed he was his brother right there and then. He wanted to tell him so much, but now was not the time. He gripped Rudi’s hand as he reached out to him, and despite the pain he was in, Tayte was still smiling at Rudi as he was helped to his feet, his hand still pressed firmly to his wound. Tayte wanted to give Rudi a hug, but he was barely standing when the whole room seemed to shudder and everyone’s attention was drawn to the door, which had just been slammed shut.
‘Keller!’ Tayte said.
Jean sprinted to the door and tried to open it. ‘It’s locked. I can smell smoke!’ She began to thump the door.
Strobel was smiling again now. ‘That’s my girl,’ he said. To Rudi, he added. ‘She must have thought you’d shot me, or perhaps this is her way of fulfilling my wish to die.’
He began to laugh at the situation, but Rudi soon silenced him. He stepped up to the old man’s wheelchair and pulled him out and up over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Then he carried him to the door. When he reached it he began to kick it, but the door was solid.
‘The gun,’ Tayte said to Jean, pointing at the wall beneath one of the paintings, to the gun Rudi had been holding. ‘Maybe you can shoot the lock through. Be careful, the safety’s off.’
Jean retrieved the gun and helped Tayte to the door, where Rudi was still trying with all his strength to break it down.
‘Stand back,’ Tayte said. He could smell the smoke fumes now, too. He only hoped the fire hadn’t yet taken hold of the building. Even if it hadn’t he knew they didn’t have long.
‘I’ve never fired a gun before,’ Jean said.
‘It’s easy. My adoptive father took me to a shooting range a few times when I was a boy. Just aim for the lock at an angle in case the bullet ricochets and squeeze the trigger.’
Jean held the pistol with both hands to steady her aim. A second later she fired, and she jumped at the sound it made, which was deafening in such a closed space.
Rudi approached the door again and gave it another kick. There was a cracking sound this time as the splintered wood began to give. ‘Again!’ he said, stepping back.
Jean fired at the lock again, and the next time Rudi kicked the door, it swung wide open. Smoke billowed into the room, followed by a wave of heat that told Tayte the flames were already out of control.
‘Quickly!’ Rudi said as he carried Strobel out. ‘Stay low. Cover your mouth.’
They were all coughing by the time they reached the end of the corridor, where the Nazi flags that lined the walls were all either burning or had already burnt out, presumably having been set alight by Keller as she left. Tayte was grateful they were in the basement where the foundation walls were made of stone, but that soon changed. Some of the walls further on were clad with wood and the staircase out of the basement was also wooden. Everything that could burn had begun to, including a small section of the stairs, which they had to pass through quickly so as not to set their clothes alight.
When they emerged onto the ground floor, heading for the main entrance hall where Tayte and Jean had previously bought their admission tickets, it was clear to see t
hat Max Fleischer had been busy with his preparations for the inferno that was now well under way. The first floor had already collapsed in places and the heat was suddenly suffocating. They ran on as hot ash and burning debris began to fall around them. As they reached the main entrance hall, Tayte saw a familiar face. It was Tobias Kaufmann, standing just outside the entrance. He was with several officers of the Munich police, with Detectives Brandt and Eckstein among them.
‘Thank God you’re okay,’ Kaufmann said to Tayte as soon as he stepped outside. To Jean he added, ‘I came as soon as you called.’
It was almost dark out, the immediate area made brighter by the flames that were now raging through the building. As everyone moved away, coughing and spluttering as they made for the safety of the open car park, Tayte thought to check his watch, forgetting for a moment that he no longer had it. It was just an old digital watch, but it had been a gift from his adoptive parents that he’d had so long it pained him to think he would never see it again. He supposed by now that it was burning inside the building along with the rest of his things: his phone and his wallet. And while he was glad he hadn’t had his briefcase with him, he knew none of these things compared to the loss of all those fine paintings.
A siren began to wail in the distance, drawing closer.
‘That should be the ambulance,’ Kaufmann said, eyeing Tayte’s wound. ‘And by the look of you, not a moment too soon.’
Tayte still had his hand pressed over the area that was bleeding. ‘It hurts like hell, but I don’t think it’s too serious,’ he said. ‘I don’t imagine I’d be standing here if it was.’
He saw Ingrid Keller again then. She was in handcuffs, as dour faced as ever as she was helped into the back of a police car. And good riddance, Tayte thought.
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