THE GREEN KING (part 44)
----------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------
The Photographer
from Salzburg
He had
travelled from Vienna to Linz, hanging on to one of those open, almost
completely demolished cars that the Austrian railroad had managed to put back
on the tracks on the certain lines. He arrived in Linz on June 30 and covered
the distance to Alkhoven by foot and by military Jeep. The military willingly
picked up civilian hitchhikers.
He never
specially told anyone whether he actually went inside Hartheim castle. Neither
Tarras nor Settiniaz dared to ask him the question.
Reb Michael
Klimrod was the first man – besides, of course, those who had worked there – to
discover the true functions of Hartheim castle, which were only officially
revealed in 1961, quite by change, and on Simon Wiesenthal’s initiative.
He arrived in
Salzburg the evening of July 2 or the morning of July 3. More than two-thirds
of the distance from Mauthausen he had done on foot, sleeping little, with the
sole exception of his stop at Doppler’s, in Payerbanch, eating less yet, and
again with the exception of Doppler, without taking strength from any friendly
presence. He was plunged in a desperate and dramatic solitude, driven by a
unique obsession; to find out where and how his father had died.
The
photographer from Salzburg was named Lothar.
‘He is not
here,’ said women with the grey hair cut very short. He lives here but he
doesn’t work here. You can go to his laboratory.’
She consented
to give him the address – in a covered passage just behind the bell tower.
‘Do you know
where it is?.’
‘I’ll find it,’
said Reb.
He left, trying
to hide his limp. Crossing the square of the old marked, he saw the ambulance
for the second time.
The first time,
it had been on the other side of the Salzach, when he emerged from the Linz
road. He had noticed the vehicle parked at the entrance to the Staats Bridge,
facing him. There two men in the front seat, motionless, with that blank look
of subordinates waiting for the order that will make them move again. The
ambulance was painted khaki, with a red cross on a white blackground. There was
nothing unusual about it, at first glance.
TO BE CONTINUED
____________________________________
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar