Ring of Lies by Roni Dunevich Page B

his organs were out of place.
    Alex went back out into the hall and tried to regain his composure, but he was struck by a wave of repulsion at the abhorrent German character of everything around him, the icy tone of the harsh language ringing in his ears.
    â€œThose-Germans-may-they-rot-in-hell,” his mother called them, as if that were their full name, first and last. Would it help to splash some German water on his face?
    The floor of Justus’s luxurious bathroom was tiled in black and white marble. The room spun around him, the contrastingsquares on the floor making him dizzy. He leaned on the gleaming double sink to steady himself. He had to get a grip. He was covered in cold sweat.
    The cold water on his face felt bracing. He stood there, leaning on the sink, and waited.
    Then he went into the master bedroom. Two large dark wardrobes stood opposite each other at the far end of the room. The one on the right was empty. In the wardrobe on the left he found Justus’s clothes arranged precisely. He felt in the pockets and cuffs, shook the shoes out, undid the neatly rolled-up socks, and rooted around in the drawers.
    On the top shelf he found a pair of skinny jeans, two red thongs, and a box of sanitary napkins. Holding the jeans up in front of him, he looked in the mirror. The owner was about five inches shorter than he was. The box of napkins was eleven units short. The start of a routine.
    He found Jane in the living room. She’d just returned from the cellar.
    â€œIt’s so sad,” she said. “The boxes downstairs were once a living, breathing woman.”
    Alex walked to the thin bronze figure of the Walking Man . The sculpture was deceptive. The man was leaning forward as if he was about to start moving, but his feet were welded in place.
    â€œHe had a girlfriend,” he said.
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œSlim, about six feet. Short visits.”
    â€œThere’s nothing wrong with that.”
    â€œDo you have any idea who she was?”
    â€œNo,” she lied.
    After hours of fruitless work, the search team took a break, spreading a black tarp on the floor of the pantry in front of a large cupboard.
    Ancona handed out sandwiches. The pungent odor of plastic mixed with the smell of roast beef and mustard. They were all crammed into the small room, which filled with sounds of chewing. In their white nylon coveralls they looked like a hungry octopus.
    Alex went back to the living room, to the view of the forest. At the far edge of the lawn, under the bare trees, he spotted a rabbit with long ears staring at a linden. Something startled it and it took off, hopping agilely between the bars of the fence and disappearing into the dark forest.
    â€œAlex,” Ancona called from the study.
    Alex was beside him in an instant.
    The sight of an open safe always gets the blood flowing. Alex knelt down and examined the contents. Four thick bundles of five-hundred-euro notes.
    â€œHow much?” he asked.
    â€œA hundred thousand,” Ancona declared.
    There was also a Sig Sauer pistol gleaming with oil, and a BMW fob from which a key with circular indentations was hanging.
    â€œWhat’s it for?” Ancona asked a short man with a double chin beside him, handing him the key.
    The man scrutinized its shape and size. “A large bank vault,” he stated finally in an unexpectedly high-pitched voice.
    At the bottom of the safe was an olive-wood box. Alex opened it to find a medal resting in a depression in the red velvet lining. On the medal, beside a small image of a tree, was an inscriptionin Hebrew and German: “In gratitude from the people of Israel.” It was accompanied by a document laminated in yellowing plastic: “On this day, 10 October 1963, a tree was planted at your request in the Garden of the Righteous Among the Nations on the Mount of Remembrance in Jerusalem, in honor of Herr Gunter Erlichmann, who risked his life to save thousands of Jews