Page 20 of Hell to Pay
We started out straight away—at least once the remains of breakfasthad been consumed, mostly by Ben and Ashleigh. Five minutes after they’d started in on it, there was nothing but crumbs left, as if a plague of locusts had descended. I’d forgotten how much young people can eat, maybe because when I’d been young, there’d been so littletoeat.
Alix said, “I can’t find a phone number or a specific address, but the Dresden museums are run by something called theStaatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden—why are German words so long?—and the only address seems to be the main entrance of the palace. Same place we were yesterday.”
“The State Art Collections,” I said. “That’s what it means.”
“I could look more for a phone number,” Ashleigh said, bright as always. She was clearly trying to be helpful so we’d continue to let her come along.
“No,” Alix said, “it’s too easy to say ‘No’ on the phone, and then where are you?”
“I agree,” Sebastian said. “We go in there and ask for the offices, is what we do. Simple.”
I said, “Let’s prepare, then. If we get anywhere at all, they’ll have many questions. We need to be able to answer them.”
Back across the street, eventually, and the long trek around the palace walls to the front. I looked longingly at theHofkirche—how comforting it would be to sit in the family pew again and look at the pipes of the organ, so beautifully ornamented with gold!Later,I told myself, and walked up the steps and through the palace doors once more.
“Sebastian should ask,” I said, when we joined the queue at the information desk. “People respond more to men.”
“Oma,”Alix said with a sigh.
“Sigh all you like,” I said. “This is Germany, and I can’t believe it’s changed that much. One person only must talk—we must be very polite, very orderly—and for this part, it should be Sebastian.” I didn’t add, “Because he is definitely more polite and orderly than you.” Order, after all, is not the most important quality in the world.
How difficult it was, though, not to jump in once the dialogue began! How I wanted to explain, to insist, and from the tension in Alix’s form as she nearly quivered beside me, I wasn’t the only one.
Sebastian, to his credit, stayed absolutely calm.
“No,” he was saying now, “our query can’t be answered online, unfortunately. We really do need to see the curator.” Always best to ask for a specific person, or who knows who they’ll fob you off on? So far, I approved of his tactics.
“If you could explain, please, what this is regarding,” the middle-aged woman said, a familiar obstinacy having settled over her face. Nobody did “officialdom” as well as Germany. Even in their killing, they’d kept meticulous records.
Sebastian hesitated, possibly for dramatic effect, leaned alittle closer, lowered his voice, and said, “We know of an artifact that was hidden here, in the palace, during the Second World War. We’d like to help find it again.” He didn’t add, “and take it away,” which was wise.
“The palace sustained major damage,” the woman said, “and was rebuilt. Nothing can have remained hidden.”
“Don’t you want to be sure, though?” Sebastian asked. “I can tell how much you care for the place.”
“Of course. It’s a national treasure.” Her voice was still stiff.
“Absolutely,” Sebastian said. “So how about letting us speak to the curator? If they’re not interested, they can tell us. Who is it, by the way? Man or woman? I don’t want to keep saying ‘they.’ And what’s your own name, if I may ask? I’m Sebastian Robillard.” He put out a hand, because he’d noticed after two days here that Germans shook hands at every possible occasion.
She took his hand, which was progress. “The curator is Frau Doktor Annemaria Bauer,” she said. “A very eminent scholar. I am Frau Schmidt.”
“Great,” Sebastian said. “That’s great to know. Thank you, Frau Schmidt. I really do think the curator will be interested.” There was quite a queue forming behind us by now, as you can imagine. Sebastian smiled winningly—he has golden eyes framed by dark lashes, and those creases beside his mouth that are a man’s dimples, and all of it is most effective. “Please,” he said. “My wife’s grandmother”—we were entering the ‘lying’ portion of the afternoon, as he and Alix weren’t married yet—“has come all the way from California for this, you see. She’s ninety-four years old and very frail, as you can probably tell. This is the first time she’s returned to Dresden since she evacuated after the bombing, and this is what she’s come for, to help the authorities find this artifact. It’s her dying wish, so I could really use your help.”
Alix snorted a bit, and I elbowed her in the side, then remembered to look frail. Judging by my reflection in that dress shop, that’s not nearly as difficult a task as I’d imagined.
“I don’t see how this can be,” the woman said, “but I’ll telephone. If you’d like to have a seat over there and wait, please.”
I sank down gratefully on the sort of black padded bench beloved of art museums everywhere and said, “Pity I didn’t bring a cane.”
“What?” Alix looked alarmed. “You always say you refuse to use a cane, that it just weakens you more. Iknewwe overdid it yesterday.”
I sighed. “No. I meant that if I had a cane, I’d look older and more frail.”
“Oh,” Alix said. Her mouth opened, then closed again.
Ben said, “I don’t think that’s exactly a problem.”
“Oh?” I asked. “Didn’t you hear Sebastian, then?”
