فصل 95

joana

We stood staring at each other.

“Tell me what you want to know,” said Florian.

“Are you really carrying something for Gauleiter Koch?”

“No. I’m carrying things for myself,” he said. “A piece of art.”

“You stole art?”

“No. The Nazis stole art.”

Was he telling me that he had taken art from the Nazis? “Stop being so cryptic.”

He sighed, then spoke in a whisper. “I’m a restoration artist, Joana. I repair and restore works of art. Initially, that’s why I wasn’t drafted. I worked at a museum in K?nigsberg. I preserved and packaged art for the museum director and his contacts. But then I learned that they were using me.”

“So you stole some art to get back at them?”

“Not just ‘some art.’ A priceless piece.” He paused. “Let’s just say that I’ve taken a piece that will leave a puzzle incomplete.”

None of it made sense. And either way, I didn’t want to be implicated.

“Do you love your country? Do you love your family?” he asked.

“Of course,” I told him.

“So do I. I have a younger sister out there somewhere. I’m all she has left. I think of her every day. My father made maps. He worked for the men who tried to assassinate Hitler. So the Nazis killed my father and sent a bill to our house. Three hundred reichsmarks for his execution. Do you understand? The Nazis wanted me to pay them for murdering my father. How would you feel if Stalin demanded payment for killing someone you love?”

“Stop.”

“Well, you’re acting so virtuous. You’re harboring a Polish girl and her baby in the maternity ward.”

“Lower your voice. That’s different and you know it. She’s a victim. I need to help her,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter. If they find out that you falsified the identity of a Pole and brought her on board, taking a space for a German, you’re done. We’re both up to our necks. But I won’t turn you in. Poet’s not going to turn us in. I’m not a spy, Joana. I’m not working for anyone. I’m working for myself, for my family, and others like mine. If anyone discovers the truth, I’ll tell them that I forged the letter and that you knew nothing about it.”

“What if they don’t believe you?” I asked.

“I’ll show them. I’ll take out your letter and my notebook. I’ll show them how I practiced forging your signature.”

“What letter?”

He paused, then pulled in a breath. “The note you left in the kitchen at the manor house. I took it.”

“You took my note?”

I had worried so intensely about that piece of paper, that they would find my name in that house. Florian had it the whole time.

“I took the note because I was trying to protect you,” he whispered.

“Well, protect yourself. That soldier told me that he’s wired Koch about you.”

The door opened and Alfred’s pale face appeared. “Pardon the interruption. Would you mind if I left my post to use the facilities?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’m leaving.”