The hunt had begun.
6
«Let me understand you, Mr. Holcroft,» said the aging attaché, leaning back in his chair. «You say you wish to locate a family that you won’t identify. You tell me this family immigrated to Brazil sometime in the forties and, according to the most recent information, dropped from sight several years ago. Is this correct?»
Noel saw the bemused expression on the attaché’s face and understood. It was a foolish game perhaps, but Holcroft did not know any other one to play. He was not going to name the Von Tiebolts before he reached Brazil; he was not going to give anyone the chance to complicate further a search that had enough disadvantages at the start. He smiled pleasantly.
«I didn’t quite say that. I asked how such a family might be found, given those circumstances. I didn’t say I was the one looking.»
«Then it’s a hypothetical question? Are you a journalist?»
Holcroft considered the medium-level diplomat’s question. How simple it would be to say yes; what a convenient explanation for the questions he would ask later. On the other hand, he’d be flying to Rio de Janeiro in a few days. There were immigration cards to be filled out, and a visa, perhaps; he did not know. A false answer now might become a problem later.
«No, an architect.»
The attaché’s eyes betrayed his surprise. «Then you’ll visit Brasília, of course. It is a masterpiece.»
«I’d like to very much.»
«You speak Portuguese?»
«A bit of Spanish. I’ve worked in Mexico. And in Costa Rica.»
«But we’re straying,» said the attaché, leaning forward in his chair. «I asked you if you were a journalist, and you hesitated. You were tempted to say you were because it was expedient. Frankly, that tells me you are, indeed, the one looking for this family that has dropped from sight. Now, why not tell me the rest?»
If he was going to consider lying in his search through this unfamiliar forest, thought Noel, he’d better learn to analyze his minor answers first. Lesson one: preparation.
«There isn’t that much to tell,» he said awkwardly. «I’m taking a trip to your country and I promised a friend I’d look up these people he knew a long time ago.» It was a variation on the truth and not a bad one, thought Holcroft. Perhaps that was why he was able to offer it convincingly. Lesson two: Base the lie in an aspect of truth.
«Yet your … friend has tried to locate them and was unable to do so.»
«He tried from thousands of miles away. It’s not the same.»
«I daresay it isn’t. So, because of this distance, and your friend’s concern that there could be complications, shall we say, you’d prefer not to identify the family by name.»
«That’s it.»
«No, it isn’t. It would be far too simple a matter for an attorney to cable a confidential inquiry-of-record to a reciprocating law firm in Rio de Janeiro. It’s done all the time. The family your friend wants to find is nowhere in evidence, so your friend wants you to trace them.» The attaché smiled and shrugged, as if he had delivered a basic lecture in arithmetic.
Noel watched the Brazilian with growing irritation. Lesson three: Don’t be led into a trap by pat conclusions casually stated. «You know something?» he said. «You’re a very disagreeable fellow.»
«I’m sorry you think so,» replied the attaché sincerely. «I want to be of help. That’s my function here. I’ve spoken to you this way for a reason. You are not the first man, God knows, nor will you be the last, to look for people who came to my country ‘sometime in the forties.’ I’m sure I don’t have to amplify that statement. The vast majority of those people were Germans, many bringing to Brazil great sums of money transferred by compromised neutrals. What I’m trying to say is simply put: Be careful. Such people as you speak of do not disappear without cause.»
«What do you mean?»
«They have to, Mr. Holcroft. Had to. The Nuremberg Tribunals and the Israeli hunters aside, many possessed funds—in some cases, fortunes—that were stolen from conquered peoples, from their institutions, often from their governments. Those funds could be reclaimed.»
Noel tensed the muscles of his stomach. There was a connection—abstract, even misleading, under the circumstances, but it was there. The Von Tiebolts were part of a theft so massive and complex it was beyond accounting procedures. But it could not be the reason they had vanished. Lesson four: Be prepared for unexpected coincidences, no matter how strained; be ready to conceal reactions.
«I don’t think the family could be involved in anything like that,» he said.
«But, of course, you’re not sure, since you know so little.»
«Let’s say I’m sure. Now, all I want to know is how I go about finding them—or finding out what happened to them.»
«I mentioned attorneys.»
«No attorneys. I’m an architect, remember? Lawyers are natural enemies; they take up most of our time.» Holcroft smiled. «Whatever a lawyer can do, I can do faster by myself. I do speak Spanish. I’ll get by in Portuguese.»
«I see.» The attaché paused while he reached for a box of thin cigars on his desk. He opened it and held it out for Holcroft, who shook his head. «Are you sure? It’s Havana.»
«I’m sure. I’m also pressed for time.»
«Yes, I know.» The attaché reached for a silver table lighter on the desk, snapped it, and inhaled deeply; the tip of the cigar glowed. He raised his eyes abruptly to Noel. «I can’t convince you to tell me the name of this family?»
«Oh, for Christ’s sake …» Holcroft got up. He’d had enough; he’d find other sources.
«Please,» said the Brazilian, «sit down, please. Just a minute or two longer. The time’s not wasted, I assure you.»
Noel saw the urgency in the attaché’s eyes. He sat down. «What is it?»
«La comunidad alemana. I use the Spanish you speak so well.»
«The German community? There’s a German community in Rio—is that what you mean?»
«Yes, but it’s not solely geographical. There’s an outlying district—the German barrio, if you will—but that is not what I refer to. I’m speaking of what we call la otra cara de los alemanes. Can you understand that?»
«The ‘other face’ … what’s underneath, below the German surface.»
«Precisely. ‘The underside,’ you might say. What makes them what they are; what makes them do what they do. It’s important that you understand.»
«I think I do. I think you explained it. Most were Nazis getting out of the Nuremberg net, bringing in money that wasn’t theirs; hiding, concealing identities. Naturally, such people would tend to stick together.»
«Naturally,» the Brazilian said. «But you’d think after so many years there’d be greater assimilation.»
«Why? You work here in New York. Go down to the Lower East Side, or Mulberry Street or up to the Bronx. Enclaves of Italians, Poles, Jews. They’ve been here for decades. You’re talking about twenty-five, thirty years. That’s not much.»
«There are similarities, of course, but it’s not the same, believe me. The people you speak of in New York associate openly; they wear their heritages on their sleeves. It is not like that in Brazil. The German community pretends to be assimilated, but it is not. In commerce, yes, but in very little else. There is a pervading sense of fear and anger. Too many have been hunted for too long; a thousand identities are concealed daily from everyone but themselves. They have their own hierarchy. Three or four families control the community; their huge Germanic estates dot our countryside. Of course, they call them Swiss or Bavarian.» Once more the attaché paused. «Do you begin to grasp what I’m saying? The consul general will not say it; my government will not permit it. But I am far down the ladder. It is left to me. Do you understand?»