THE GREEN KING (part 22)
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The Photographer
from Salzburg
Klimrod moved
away from the cabinet, took two steps towards the door.
‘October 2,
1943. At Belzec. The Obersturmbannfuhrer assembled us at Belzec.’
‘This one,’
said Klimrod, taking another step towards the door.
He’s lying, of
course, thought Tarras, more and more disconcerted. Accepting the rest of the
story as true and Tarras believed it – it was inconceivable that the boy, who
had such in fantastic memory, could forget the name of a man with whom he had
lived for twenty months, from October 1943 to May 1945. He’s lying and he knows
I know. And he doesn’t care. Nor does he seem to feel any shame or hatred. But
maybe he’s in a state of shock….’.
The last
explanation was the least convincing to Tarras. He didn’t believe it.
Thruthfully, during this first visit with Reb Michael Klimrod, a visit that
didn’t last more than twenty minutes, Tarras suspected that there was in this
emaciated boy, who barely had enough strength to stand, a great aptitude for
dominating any given situation. A superiority – that was the world that came to
his mind. Just as he could feel, physically, the over whelming weight of
intelligence behind Klimrod’s pale, deep eyes.
The boy took
another step towards the door. His profile had cruel beauty to it. So the last
question asked by Tarras were meant mainly to prolong the interview.
‘And who
whipped you and burned you with cigarettes?’.
‘You know the
answer.’
‘The same
officer, for twenty months?’.
Silence.
Another step towards the door.
TO BE CONTINUED
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I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
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