grand staircase ended abruptly just before it reached the first floor. A gaping hole in the wall behind it had been boarded up.
“This place is a mess,” Keegan said.
“Some Kraut general was using it for a command post,” the corporal said. “A squadron of P-51s really kicked the shi .
excuse me, sir, kicked the crap out of the place.”
“You can say
“Yes, sir.”
“What happened to the general?”
“I hear they scraped him off the wall. We found the old man hiding down in the wine cellar. He was a sight.”
They walked almost to the end of the hall. The corporal nodded toward a door.
“In there, sir.”
“Thanks. Congratulations, Corporal.”
“What for, sir?”
“Winning the war, kid,” he said, and entered the room.
It had once been a library, although one wall had been blown away. Remnants of books littered the room. Soaring bookshelves dominated two other walls while the fourth wall was an enormous stained glass window which somehow had escaped the bombardment. A rolling ladder provided access to the upper bookshelves.
An army cot squatted in a corner of the room with an olive drab army blanket thrown carelessly across it. The only other thing in the room was a large, hand-carved oak desk. Like the window behind it, it was unscathed.
The old man sat hunched over behind the desk, a stack of books to one side, another opened in front of him. He was taking notes on a pad of army paper. His disheveled hair was as thin as mist and pure white. His eyes were dark hollows in a sallow face. He needed a shave. A hand-made shawl was thrown over his rounded shoulders.
He looked up through faded eyes as Keegan and his aide crossed the room, kicking book leaves out of the way. They stood in front of the desk. The bearded man was in the shadows.
“Professor Wilhelm Vierhaus?”
The old man looked up.
‘Ja?”
“You are under arrest, Professor.”
“I have been under arrest for over a week, Major.”
“No, you’ve been detained. As of today you would probably have been free to go, since you are officially a civilian and the war is over. But I have a warrant here for your arrest. The specific charge is murder in the first degree.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Murder, Professor. You are a civilian and you are charged with murdering a civilian.”
“Who?”
‘Specifically, Jenny Gould.”
“Jenny He shook his head, trying to remember.
“Her brother was Avrum Wolffson.”
Vierhaus looked up with shock. His eyes narrowed.
“The Black Lily?”
“That’s right. You sent his sister to Dachau and she was murdered there.”
“And you are charging me with that?” he said, almost sneering.
“That’s right. Not only charging you, Vierhaus, but I intend to see that you are prosecuted and hanged.”
“I did not kill anybody!”
“You sent her to Dachau to die.”
“And who are your witnesses, sir?”
“Her brother for one. Perhaps it’s time you met. You’ve been trying to kill him for twelve years. Av?”
The bearded man stepped from the shadows into the light streaming in the window.
“Professor, this is Avrum Wolffson.”
Vierhaus reacted with a combination of emotions: surprise, hatred, curiosity. Fear.
“Jenny Gould was his sister. She was arrested and ultimately murdered in an attempt by you to get her to turn him in.”
Vierhaus turned his attention back to Keegan.
