‘Thank you, Christoph,’ he said. To Tayte he added, ‘The time goes by so quickly, don’t you think? Even at my age, the long life I’ve led now seems little more than a blur to me. I’m afraid we don’t have very long to finish my story.’
‘Is there long enough?’ Tayte asked, hope evident in his tone. He really did not want Langner to leave his account there. It wasn’t a story Tayte felt could keep for another day, especially as he and Jean were booked on a flight back to London that evening.
‘Oh, I think we might have just enough time,’ Langner said. ‘Now where were we?’
Tayte sat forward. ‘You’d gone into the concentration camp at Dachau, looking for Strobel,’ he said. ‘You found him and forced him into his own accommodation at gunpoint. I’m keen to know what happened next.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Langner said. He nodded to himself, as though recalling the details that followed.
Tayte thought he was about to continue, but instead, he paused and fixed his eye on him.
‘Are you absolutely sure you want to know what happened next?’
Tayte scrunched his brow. ‘Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Perhaps because this is a past you might not wish to be connected with. Wouldn’t you rather walk out of here now, go on with your life and forget about it?’
Tayte had come too far to throw in the towel now. He was in all the way.
‘There’s still time,’ Langner continued. ‘But if I go on, I’m afraid it will be too late for you to reject who you are.’
‘I want to know who I am,’ Tayte said, determined. ‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted to know. Please, go on.’
‘Very well, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Chapter Forty-Two
Dachau. 26 April 1945.
The light from the street lamp across the road outside Volker Strobel’s accommodation at Dachau concentration camp shone a pale glow into the room, casting long shadows over the few items of furniture that occupied it.
‘Draw the curtains,’ Johann ordered.
By his estimation the guards would be passing the house again soon and he couldn’t risk being seen, especially now that he’d made it this far. As Volker went to the window, Johann went to the table lamp he’d seen on entering the room. When Volker drew the curtains, Johann switched the lamp on.
‘Now sit down.’
Johann flicked his Luger at one of the armchairs by the fireplace. It had been lit, in all likelihood by the woman he had seen leaving the house earlier, but at this late hour it was now reduced to glowing embers.
‘Are we alone?’ Johann asked. ‘Where’s Trudi?’
‘We are perfectly alone, Johann,’ Volker said, lowering himself into the armchair. ‘Such beauty as Trudi possesses cannot exist in a place like this. Besides, Trudi would not live here any more than I would allow her to, but she visits often enough.’
Johann remained standing. ‘You don’t deserve her, or any woman for that matter.’
‘Ah, so we come down to it. I cannot say I haven’t been expecting you. I knew you must have discovered what had happened with the Bauer family when you called the camp this morning. You’ve done well to get this far.’
‘It was easy,’ Johann said. ‘Although I had expected you here sooner. I’ve been waiting a long time for you to return.’
Volker scoffed. ‘Haven’t you heard? The enemy is at our door. There is much work to be done at Dachau.’
‘Yes, the Devil’s work,’ Johann said, imagining the kind of work Volker was referring to. Ava’s mother had told him that the camp at Flossenbürg was to be evacuated the day after her release. The SS-Totenkopfverb?nde—the Death’s Head Units—were trying to cover up the atrocious things they had done in their concentration camps—things that people such as Volker Strobel would surely be made accountable for. ‘You must be more than a little concerned about what will happen to you when the enemy arrives,’ Johann added.
Volker laughed to himself, and although it was with a degree of sardonicism, it sickened Johann to think that the man before him could draw even the slightest amusement from any of this.
‘Look at us, Johann,’ Volker said. ‘What happened to you and me, eh?’
‘Do not compare us, Volker. I still know myself, but you! You’ve become a monster. A demon!’
‘Then shoot me,’ Volker said, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair. ‘Shoot me and send me back to hell, where I belong.’