Voices of the dead

No way. He was going to end it right now. He ran down the hall to the stairs, saw Hess at the bottom and went after him. Raced through the living room and dining room, caught him in the kitchen, Hess moving past the island counter halfway to the door. “Take another step you’re dead.” Harry aimed down the gun sight, arms extended, two hands on the Colt. “Put it down, and do it slow.”

Hess stopped, glanced over his shoulder. “You think I am a fool? I put the gun down you will kill me.”

Harry had been thinking about this moment, but didn’t see it happening this way. He wanted Hess looking at him when he pulled the trigger. “All right,” Harry said. “We’ll both do it. Put them down at the same time. But I’m telling you, make a move it’s all over.” He lowered the Colt, resting it on the countertop. Hess reached back and laid his semiautomatic on the black granite, turned, facing him.

“I have been wondering, who is this Harry Levin? And finally it occurred to me. You must have been the boy hiding in the woods. How did you get off the truck? The prisoners were counted as they got on, and then again when they arrived. But somehow they missed you.”

“I’ve been thinking about you‚ too,” Harry said. “I remember you shooting my father, showing your men how to kill Jews.”

“I should have paid more attention to you.”

“Then passing out bottles of schnapps to celebrate,” Harry said.

“It was not to celebrate but to relax the men. I underestimated how they would react. To my surprise many of them broke down. Some were deeply shaken. They needed relief.”

“You killed six hundred people,” Harry said, “you were worried about relaxing your men?”

“I was following orders,” Hess said.

“Whose orders were you following after the war?”

He didn’t answer.

“I saw your souvenir collection. You’re still at it, huh? Can’t stop yourself.”

“You think the world is going to miss a few more Jews?” Hess said. “Killing your daughter was a bonus, Harry. What can I say? I was just lucky.”

“I am‚ too,” Harry said, picking up the Colt.

Hess went for his gun, and Harry fired. Hit him in the upper chest, just left of center, the velocity blowing the Nazi backward off his feet, gun flying. Harry walked across the kitchen, stood over him, Hess looking up, eyes open. “Help me.”

“You’re not going to make it,” Harry said.

39

“We have to call the police,” Joyce said, staring at Hess on the kitchen floor, blood pooling under him.

“You want to be involved in the killing of a Nazi war criminal?” Harry said. “Bring all that attention to yourself? Have the nuts come out of the woodwork, looking for you?”

Joyce said, “We don’t have a choice. We are involved.”

Cordell at the kitchen table said, “Harry, what you sayin’?”

“Get rid of the body. Bury him.”

Joyce frowned. “You’re not serious?”

“You have a better idea?”

“Harry, somebody has to have heard the gunshots and called the police,” Joyce said.

“If the police were coming, they’d be here by now.”

“What about the door upstairs?” Joyce said. “And the bullet hole in the armoire? How’re we going to explain that?”

“You picked up one of those terracotta planters on the balcony,” Cordell said, “broke the glass by accident.”

Harry glanced at him. “That’s not bad.” He paused. “I wouldn’t worry about the bullet hole. Who’s going to notice it?”

“Got another one, Harry,” Cordell said. “What about the security dude?”

Harry’d found him dead in the bushes behind the south wall. “Somebody shot him. We didn’t hear it. We don’t know what happened. We don’t have to explain anything.”

“And Hess’ rental car,” Joyce said.

Harry’d found it parked on the neighbor’s property to the south. “We don’t know anything about that, either. Name on the rental agreement is Gerd Klaus.” It was also the name on his passport and international driver’s license. “You know someone named Gerd Klaus? I don’t. Nobody knows he’s really Hess except us. All the police have is a rental car. Without a body there’s nothing to connect us.” Harry had searched him and found a ring of keys and a room key to the Breakers Hotel.

Joyce said, “What if he told somebody what he was going to do, and they come after us?”

“Why would he?” Harry said. “If you were going to kill someone, would you talk about it? For Hess it was personal. He was taking care of the last connections to his past.” He looked at his watch. It was 4:53. “We don’t have a lot of time. Somebody is going to come looking for the security guard, and then the police are going to be involved.” He glanced at Cordell. “What do you say?”

“Otherwise you be lookin’ over your shoulder,” Cordell said, eyes on Joyce.

“I don’t like it, Harry,” Joyce said. “I feel like a criminal. But I agree with you. I wouldn’t bury him, though. The ground’s too soft. He could wash out during a heavy rain. I’d dump him in the ocean, let the tide take him out to the sharks.”

“What about this?” Cordell said, picking Hess’ gun up off the floor.