The Hunt

Gebhart said one word under his breath, a whisper, barely breathed: “Toten

“He wants me to kill the spy?”

Gebhart looked down and nodded.

“Avrum reasons that the only chance Germany has is if America, England and France go to war with Hitler. If England and France declare war on Germany do you think America will follow?”

“I don’t know,” Keegan said. “I seriously doubt it.”

“Why? They are your allies.”

“I don’t know whether you can understand this, Werner, but I have a hard time getting emotional over the plight of one hundred thousand people. Or even fifty people, for that matter. It shocks me but it doesn’t touch me personally. But when it became one-to-one, when it was somebody I knew, somebody I loved, when it was Jenny, then finally I understood. I think most Americans are like that. Until it hits home, until people they know start dying, they will stay away from war.”

“Do you believe this story Fish told?” Gebhart asked.

“Do you?”

“I told you, Ire, I was there,” he said nodding. “And I will tell you, this man did not lie or make it up, I assure you of that. What he said he said out of pure terror and pain.”

“If you and Avrum are convinced, then I believe it.”

“And will you pursue him?”

“Yes,” Keegan said without hesitation. He stared at the German sitting across the table from him and saw great sadness in his young face.

“And kill him?” Gebhart asked.

It was not an easy question to answer. For all these years Keegan had been frustrated, filled with anger because he was powerless to help Jenny. He could do nothing. He owed one to Wolffson, now Wolffson had called in the marker and he could do something about that. The thought of it excited him. If the security of the country was at stake, that alone was reason to track down the agent known as 27. If he were doing it purely out of need for revenge that was all right, too. And if tracking this dangerous superspy gave his own existence a new purpose, all the better.

“Yes, if it’s possible I’ll kill him.”

“Vengeance is mine,” Gebhart replied. “The Lord said that.”

“You have to get even before you get well,” Keegan snapped back. “Ned Beerbohm said that.”

Gebhart looked confused by the remark.

“I cannot give up the things I have been taught. It even troubles me to give you a message which might cause violence.”

“Let me tell you something, Werner, I used to have this recurring dream. In the dream I would find Vierhaus tied up in different places here in New York. I would be carrying a cage full of hungry rats and I would spread cheese all over him and then I’d let the hungry rats loose on him and watch them literally gnaw him to death. I had that dream a lot for a while and whenever I had it, I’d wake up all sweaty and out of breath. Then as time went on, I had it less and less and finally it went away and I started dreaming about Jenny. Nice dreams at first but then they went sour, too. The Nazis had her and there was this great pane of glass between us and I couldn’t break that glass. And what they were doing to her was even worse than what I did to Vierhaus. Pretty soon I started having the rat dream again. It was like waves in the ocean. For five years it’s been either one or the other. When I start to get complacent, the rat dream comes back. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I have mixed feelings about all this. I’ve never killed anyone, except in the war. I have no compulsion to kill anyone, not even this Siebenundzwanzig, so other factors enter into it. I respect your religious beliefs, Werner, but you have to respect the way I feel.”

Keegan stood up and motioned Gebhart to follow him.

“Come here, I want to show you something.”

He led Gebhart through the apartment and pulled open one of the French doors. They went out on the balcony. The cold air stirred them both. Keegan turned up the collar of his jacket. His steamy breath was whisked away by the wind. He felt a sudden rush of relief. Now finally, he was shed of the fear of not knowing. Now that part of it was over. But with the relief came a great burden of guilt and there was nothing he could do about that. He would have to learn to live with it.

He pointed to the street below.

“I grew up down there,” Keegan said with obvious pride. “That was my front yard, that street right below you. I went to what you call upper school, we call it high school, right up the street about four blocks. A very hard place, Werner. Down there, if some guy does something to you, you do back to him only twice as bad. The reason is simple: he won’t bother you anymore, he’ll go pick on somebody else. You might call that an eye for an eye or two eyes for an eye or whatever you want to call it, Werner. I call it survival. And if you want to survive down there, you learn three things real fast. You never squeal on a pal. You never go back on your word. And you always pay your markers—your debts. I suppose that’s the closest thing to a religion I’ve got. So I’ll tell you right now, I’m going to find this Twenty-seven. I don’t know how, I don’t even know where to begin, but I’ll find him and when I do. . . then I’ll decide.”

But in his heart, Keegan knew that if he found 27 he would most certainly kill him. Not because he was a threat to the U.S. or because he was a Nazi superspy. Keegan would kill him because he owed Avrum. And Jenny. And, in the end, because he owed it to himself.

Keegan was surprised at how fast he got from the cashier to the manicurist to the owner of the shop, who was also the barber, and finally to the man himself. He recognized the high-pitched, hoarse, voice immediately.

“Who you say this is again?”