‘Oh, come now, Mr Tayte. Your grandfather was a Nazi. It’s in your blood, too.’
Tayte had feared as much since he’d first heard that his parents had gone to see the Kaufmanns in connection with Volker Strobel, looking for connections to Karl’s father.
You can’t choose your ancestors, JT, he reminded himself, although he imagined there had been all kinds of Nazis and he was sure they were not all like Volker Strobel. From what he’d heard about Johann Langner, Tayte liked to think he was perhaps a good man at heart, and under different circumstances who knows how his life would have turned out. But these were feelings Tayte would come to terms with in his own time, if he had any time left.
The door was wedged open and one after the other, Strobel and then Tayte were wheeled through into another room. Tayte was no longer surprised by what he saw. He was in a shrine of sorts, that much was apparent as soon as his eyes fell on the larger than life portrait of Adolf Hitler, which was lit up on the far wall. A single candle glowed before it as a remembrance offering. Tayte noticed then that there were portraits of other key Nazi Party officials lit up all around the room, which were interspersed with fine art paintings and golden symbols of the Third Reich. The ceiling was adorned with a large Nazi banner, the central swastika hanging directly over a polished brass swastika set into the stone floor beneath it.
‘These are the paintings I’m forced to keep in my private collection,’ Strobel said, waving a hand around the room. ‘Of course, I used some of them to help get my business started, and as an act of goodwill I repatriated a few with the families of their former owners. It put me in good stead with the community as my business grew.’
‘Stolen war treasures?’ Tayte said with disdain.
He got no answer. None was needed. The two wheelchairs were pushed further into the room, and when they came to a stop Tayte found himself directly beneath the portrait of Adolf Hitler. The wheelchairs were then turned in so that Tayte and Strobel were facing one another. They were so close that their knees were almost touching, and Tayte couldn’t imagine what the old man wanted him to do.
‘Now to the business at hand,’ Strobel said, his tone deathly serious. ‘Instead of me killing you, I want you to kill me.’
‘What?’ Tayte’s face was suddenly creased with disbelief.
‘You’ve caught me at a good time, Mr Tayte. I’m making you part of my exit plan. My life for yours. That’s the deal.’
Tayte shook his head, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. He stared at Strobel, wide eyed. ‘You’re crazy!’
‘Yes,’ Strobel said, almost laughing. ‘I’m sure I am. But I’m also very tired. I’m in constant pain, and I’m told by my doctors that it will only get worse before the end. In short, I’ve had enough.’
‘Well, can’t you kill yourself?’ Tayte said. ‘Or get your daughter to do it with one of her needles? Why me?’
‘A father cannot expect his own daughter to kill him, Mr Tayte, and Max here is like a son to me. I can’t ask him to do it. I’ve thought about suicide—a cyanide capsule and a bullet to my brain in the manner of my Führer—but I can’t do it, either. For now at least, my beautiful Aryan son, Rudi, knows nothing of who I really am, so I can’t ask him. Besides, the more I’ve thought about it, the more appropriate I believe it would be for Johann’s grandson to do it. I’ve never got over killing my friend. Of all the things I’ve done, his is the only face that continues to haunt me. It will be a kind of justice for him if you can do this one thing he could not.’
Strobel gave a nod, and this time Fleischer stepped beside Tayte and cut his right arm free. Then he tossed a pistol into his lap.
‘It’s the Luger that belonged to your grandfather.’
Tayte just stared at it, thinking he must still be unconscious, caught in a bizarre nightmare from which he couldn’t wake up.
‘Leave us now,’ Strobel said. To Fleischer, he added, ‘You know what to do, Max.’
Fleischer nodded and strode off towards the door.
‘You, too, Ingrid,’ Strobel said. ‘I don’t want any harm to come to you should Mr Tayte get any wild ideas of his own. Stay outside the door until you hear the shot.’ To Tayte, he added. ‘There is only one bullet in the chamber. Use it wisely.’
Tayte was surprised to see that Ingrid Keller had tears in her eyes as she leaned in and kissed her father goodbye. He imagined she believed it was for the last time. A moment later she followed Fleischer out of the room.