In the far corner of the room sat an emaciated man in a wheelchair. He was between a floor lamp and a short table, the light over his left shoulder, a book in his lap. His hair was white and thin, combed carefully over his head. Holcroft guessed he was well into his seventies. In spite of his gaunt appearance, the face was strong, the eyes behind the steel-rimmed spectacles alert. He was dressed in a cardigan sweater buttoned to the throat, and a pair of corduroy trousers.
«Good evening, Herr Oberst,» said Helden. «I hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long.»
«Good evening, Helden,» replied the old man, putting the book to one side. «You’re here and obviously safe. That’s all that matters.»
Noel watched, mesmerized, as the gaunt figure put his hands on the arms of the wheelchair and rose slowly. He was extremely tall, over six feet two or three. He continued speaking in an accent obviously German and just as obviously aristocratic.
«You’re the young man who telephoned Miss Tennyson,» he said, not asking a question. «I’m known simply as Oberst—colonel—which was not my rank, but I’m afraid it will have to do.»
«This is Noel Holcroft. He is an American, and he is the man.» Helden took a step to her left, revealing the gun in her hand. «He is here against his will. He did not want to talk with you.»
«How do you do, Mr. Holcroft?» The colonel nodded, offering no hand. «May I ask why you’re reluctant to speak to an old man?»
«I don’t know who you are,» replied Noel as calmly as he could. «Further, the matters I’ve discussed with Miss … Tennyson … are confidential.»
«Does she agree?»
«Ask her.» Holcroft held his breath. In seconds he would know how convincing he had been.
«They are,» said Helden, «if they are true. I think they are true.»
«I see. But you must be convinced, and I am the devil’s advocate without a brief.» The old man lowered himself back into the wheelchair.
«What does that mean?» asked Noel.
«You won’t discuss these confidential matters, yet I must ask questions, the answers to which could allay our anxieties. You see, Mr. Holcroft, you have no reason to be afraid of me. On the contrary, we may have a great deal to fear from you.»
«Why? I don’t know you; you don’t know me. Whatever it is you’re involved with has nothing to do with me.»
«We must all be convinced of that,» said the old man. «Over the telephone you spoke to Helden of urgency, of a great deal of money, of concerns that go back more than thirty years.»
«I’m sorry she told you that,» interrupted Noel. «Even that’s too much.»
«She said very little else,» continued the colonel. «Only that you saw her sister, and that you’re interested in her brother.»
«I’ll say it again. It’s confidential.»
«And finally,» said the old man, as if Holcroft had not spoken, «that you wished to meet secretly. At least, you implied as much.»
«For my own reasons,» said Noel. «They’re none of your business.»
«Aren’t they?»
«No.»
«Let me summarize briefly, then.» The colonel pressed the fingers of his hands together, his eyes on Holcroft. «There’s urgency, a great sum of money, matters traced back three decades, interest in the offspring of a ranking member of the Third Reich’s High Command, and—most important, perhaps—a clandestine meeting. Doesn’t all this suggest something?»
Noel refused to be drawn into speculation. «I have no idea what it suggests to you.»
«Then I’ll be specific. A trap.»
«A trap?»
«Who are you, Mr. Holcroft? A disciple of ODESSA? Or a soldier of the Rache, perhaps?»
«The ODESSA?… or the … what?» asked Holcroft.
«The Rache,» replied the old man sharply, pronouncing the word with phonetic emphasis.
«The ‘Rah-kuh’?…» Noel returned the cripple’s penetrating stare. «I don’t know what you’re talking about.»
Oberst glanced at Helden, then pulled his eyes back to Holcroft. «You’ve heard of neither?»
«I’ve heard of the ODESSA. I don’t know anything about the … ‘Rah-kuh’… or whatever you call it.»
«Recruiters and killers. Yet both recruit. Both kill. The ODESSA and the Rache. The pursuers of children.»
«Pursuers of children?» Noel shook his head. «You’ll have to be clearer, because I haven’t the vaguest idea what you’re saying.»
Again, the old man looked at Helden. What passed between them Holcroft could not decipher, but Oberst turned back to him, the hard eyes boring in as if studying a practiced liar, watching for signs of deception—or recognition. «I’ll put it plainly to you,» he said. «Are you one of those who seek out the children of Nazis? Who pursue them wherever they can be found, killing them for revenge—for crimes they never committed—making examples of the innocent? Or forcing them to join you. Threatening them with documents portraying their parents as monsters, promising to expose them as offspring of psychopaths and murderers if they refuse to be recruited—destroying what lives they have for the insanity of your cause? These are the people who seek the children, Mr. Holcroft. Are you one of them?»
Noel closed his eyes in relief. «I can’t tell you how wrong you are. I won’t tell you any more than that, but you’re so wrong it’s incredible.»
«We have to be sure.»
«You can be. I’m not involved in things like that. I’ve never heard of those kind of things before. People like that are sick.»
«Yes, they’re sick,» agreed Oberst. «Don’t mistake me. The Wiesenthals of this world search out the real monsters, the unpunished criminals who still laugh at Nürnberg, and we can’t object; that’s another war. But the persecution of the children must stop.»
Noel turned to Helden. «Is this what you’re running from? After all these years, they’re still after you?»
The old man answered. «Acts of violence take place every day. Everywhere.»
«Then why doesn’t anyone know about it?» demanded Holcroft. «Why aren’t there stories in the newspapers? Why are these things kept quiet?»
«Would … ‘anyone,’ as you put it, really care?» asked the colonel. «For the children of Nazis?»
«For God’s sake, they were kids.» Again Noel looked at Helden. «Is what I saw tonight part of this? You have to protect each other? Is it so widespread?»
«We’re called the ‘children of hell,’» said the Von Tiebolt daughter simply. «Damned for what we are and damned for what we’re not.»
«I don’t understand it,» protested Holcroft.
«It’s not vital that you do.» The old soldier once again got up slowly, trying, thought Noel, to rise to his former imposing height. «It’s only important that we be convinced you are from neither army. Are you satisfied, Helden?»
«Yes.»
«There’s nothing more you wish me to know?»
The woman shook her head. «I’m satisfied,» she repeated.
«Then so am I.» The colonel extended his hand to Noel. «Thank you for coming. As Helden will explain, my existence is not widely known; nor do we want it to be. We would appreciate your confidence.»
Holcroft took the hand, surprised at the old man’s firm grip. «If I can count on yours.»
«You have my word.»
«Then you have mine,» Noel said.
They drove in silence, headlights knifing the darkness. Holcroft was behind the wheel, Helden in the front seat, beside him, directing him by nodding wearily, pointing to the turns. There was no screaming now; there were no harsh commands barked at the last second. Helden seemed as exhausted from the events of the night as was he. But the night was not over; they had to talk.