eaten up with Nazi guilt. He wasn’t born until well after the Holocaust, but he’s still pouring its ashes over his head.”
Kate looked at Nicko. “What’s
your
feeling?”
“The same as always in such situations. It’s never good to leave any loose ends.”
“No, Nicko.”
“It’s the only way to be absolutely sure.”
Kate’s face was set. “I said no. I’ve already killed two people I didn’t really want to kill. With Klaus, I’m sure enough.”
Chapter 4
I N R OME , K LAUS L OGEFELD was in his apartment on the Via Sistina, studying a sheet of contact prints with a large magnifying glass. He was going over
the pictures for the third time, trying to decide which would be best to enlarge. With a fully equipped darkroom in the apartment,
he had done all the developing and printing himself during the late afternoon. The blowups would be next.
Klaus had used the latest in silent, high-tech cameras for the all-important shoot. Actually, he had used two cameras: one
loaded with infrared film for shooting in the dark, the other holding film suitable for low-level artificial light. Both cameras
were fitted with telephoto lenses. Because of the restrictive shooting conditions, he had been anxious about the possible
results, particularly since clarity and detail were vital and there were no second chances. Judging from the contact prints,
the enlargements would be giving him everything he needed.
He reviewed the pictures in their proper sequence, starting with the first shots of Kate waiting in the midnight dark of the
wood, then catching her as she stood up and headed toward the house, pulling on her mask. He had pictures of her breaking
into the house through the basement window, but no more of her until she was upstairs in the Walterses’ bedroom, turning on
a lamp and waiting for them to waken.
At this point Klaus hit the switch on a small audiocassette, and the sound of Kate’s and the Walterses’ voices gavesudden life to the pictures. Then there was the business of Peter Walters opening the safe, and his wife shooting at Kate,
and all hell breaking loose as Kate finished them both from flat out on the floor.
That is some little lady, thought Klaus Logefeld, as he wondered how many shooters could have succeeded with that kind of
speed and accuracy.
And there were the photographs of Kate removing the pictures of her parents from the safe, which was something for him to
think about because she had never mentioned the pictures on the phone and even pretended not to know he had lied. Why?
Then came the especially important photos of Kate with her mask off, but still in the bedroom with the two bodies, and the
pictures of her wandering about the house and looking at all the Walters family photographs and paintings, and the total devastation
on her face as she looked.
Sorry, Kate, he thought, because he had never had anything but good feelings about Kate Dinneson and took no pleasure in having
to use and deceive her like this. He had not been born devious. He believed himself to be essentially honest and straightforward
by nature. It had taken a long, hard process of conditioning to change him.
The process had begun in the dark of a Berlin movie theater when he was just twelve years old. It was the day Klaus saw a
documentary showing the end of the Third Reich through the eyes of an advancing American tank battalion. The battalion’s lead
units were the first to confront the evidence of what Corps Intelligence had designated only as Objective 3. Entrance had
required no fighting. The SS guards had left the camp several hours before. Just the dead, the dying, and the walking skeletons
greeted the Americans.
At the end, the guards had evidently butchered an extra few thousand as a farewell gesture, but had not taken time to dispose
of the bodies. The Germans were an efficient people, noted the narrator, and the killing had, typically, gone well. But body
Kate looked at Nicko. “What’s
your
feeling?”
“The same as always in such situations. It’s never good to leave any loose ends.”
“No, Nicko.”
“It’s the only way to be absolutely sure.”
Kate’s face was set. “I said no. I’ve already killed two people I didn’t really want to kill. With Klaus, I’m sure enough.”
Chapter 4
I N R OME , K LAUS L OGEFELD was in his apartment on the Via Sistina, studying a sheet of contact prints with a large magnifying glass. He was going over
the pictures for the third time, trying to decide which would be best to enlarge. With a fully equipped darkroom in the apartment,
he had done all the developing and printing himself during the late afternoon. The blowups would be next.
Klaus had used the latest in silent, high-tech cameras for the all-important shoot. Actually, he had used two cameras: one
loaded with infrared film for shooting in the dark, the other holding film suitable for low-level artificial light. Both cameras
were fitted with telephoto lenses. Because of the restrictive shooting conditions, he had been anxious about the possible
results, particularly since clarity and detail were vital and there were no second chances. Judging from the contact prints,
the enlargements would be giving him everything he needed.
He reviewed the pictures in their proper sequence, starting with the first shots of Kate waiting in the midnight dark of the
wood, then catching her as she stood up and headed toward the house, pulling on her mask. He had pictures of her breaking
into the house through the basement window, but no more of her until she was upstairs in the Walterses’ bedroom, turning on
a lamp and waiting for them to waken.
At this point Klaus hit the switch on a small audiocassette, and the sound of Kate’s and the Walterses’ voices gavesudden life to the pictures. Then there was the business of Peter Walters opening the safe, and his wife shooting at Kate,
and all hell breaking loose as Kate finished them both from flat out on the floor.
That is some little lady, thought Klaus Logefeld, as he wondered how many shooters could have succeeded with that kind of
speed and accuracy.
And there were the photographs of Kate removing the pictures of her parents from the safe, which was something for him to
think about because she had never mentioned the pictures on the phone and even pretended not to know he had lied. Why?
Then came the especially important photos of Kate with her mask off, but still in the bedroom with the two bodies, and the
pictures of her wandering about the house and looking at all the Walters family photographs and paintings, and the total devastation
on her face as she looked.
Sorry, Kate, he thought, because he had never had anything but good feelings about Kate Dinneson and took no pleasure in having
to use and deceive her like this. He had not been born devious. He believed himself to be essentially honest and straightforward
by nature. It had taken a long, hard process of conditioning to change him.
The process had begun in the dark of a Berlin movie theater when he was just twelve years old. It was the day Klaus saw a
documentary showing the end of the Third Reich through the eyes of an advancing American tank battalion. The battalion’s lead
units were the first to confront the evidence of what Corps Intelligence had designated only as Objective 3. Entrance had
required no fighting. The SS guards had left the camp several hours before. Just the dead, the dying, and the walking skeletons
greeted the Americans.
At the end, the guards had evidently butchered an extra few thousand as a farewell gesture, but had not taken time to dispose
of the bodies. The Germans were an efficient people, noted the narrator, and the killing had, typically, gone well. But body
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