“What do you mean?”
“You’re replacing me.”
Fannie had to catch her breath. She knew what this meant.
“Just remember,” Rodrigo warned. “Always be on time. Do exactly what he asks. And never speak to him unless he speaks to you.”
She nodded. And in November, she officially took over.
As The Financier’s private projectionist.
Four Confrontations
The more you confront the truth, the more upset you are likely to become. But if you believe that old expression that truth can set you free, then am I not what you secretly yearn for?
Our four characters, in the calendar year 1980, finally confronted the truths that had long shadowed them.
What they did next sets the stage for the end of our story.
Sebastian confronted his tormentor.
Having seen Udo Graf again, he could think of nothing else. The pictures he had taken came back clear and sharp, and when compared to an old photograph the Hunter had acquired, the match was obvious. Despite the years, theSchutzhaftlagerführerhad not changed much.
But the Hunter had been right. Seeing the devil and capturing him were two different things. Despite numerous calls to American politicians, no one seemed ready to believe that a high-ranking Nazi had found sanctuary in the United States. Sebastian returned to Vienna empty-handed.
He spent months building his case, researching everything he could find on Graf through paperwork the Hunter had collected. He traveled several times back to New York, meeting with various Jewish groups, who were equally stunned to think that former SS officers could be hiding in their country.How did they get here? Who is harboring them?
Finally, in early 1980, Sebastian met with a woman whose brother-in-law was a U.S. senator and happened to be Jewish. That senator agreed to meet with Sebastian in his office near the Capitol.
Sebastian was encouraged. If he could convince a high-ranking American politician to pursue Graf, surely the U.S. government could find him.
The night before his meeting, in a hotel room in Washington, D.C., Sebastian finished eating a chicken sandwich from room service. Then, once again, he dialed the number he had for Fannie in California. He had tried it many times, but no one had answered. This time, after several rings, she picked up.
“It’s me,” Sebastian said.
Fannie seemed surprised. “Where are you? You sound very close.”
“I’m in Washington, D.C.”
“Why?”
“Graf. From Auschwitz. I’m making progress.”
He heard her sigh.
“We’re going to find him, Fannie, I swear it.”
“I hope you do, Sebastian.”
“We will.”
“But please.”
“What?”
“Be careful.”
When she said things like this, it made him feel like she still loved him, even though they had signed divorce papers five years earlier. His tone softened.