A Death in Vienna

here?”
    “I just want you to see some things.”
    “There’s nothing to see here, Allon. Just a Polish memorial.”
    “Precisely.” Gabriel jerked at his elbow. “Come on, Radek. Faster. You have to walk faster. We haven’t got much time. It will be morning soon.”
    A moment later, they stopped again before a trackless rail line, the old spur that had carried the transports from Treblinka station into the camp itself. The ties were recreated in stone and frosted over by new snow. They followed the tracks into the camp and stopped at the place where the platform had been. It too was represented in stone.
    “Do you remember it, Radek?”
    He stood silently, his jaw slack, his breathing ragged.
    “Come on, Radek. We know who you are, we know what you did. You’re not going to escape this time. There’s no use playing games or trying to deny any of it. There isn’t time, not if you want to save your son.”
    Radek’s head swiveled slowly around. His mouth became a tight line and his gaze very hard.
    “You would harm my son?”
    “Actually, you would do it for us. All we would have to do is tell the world who his father is, and it would destroy him. That’s why you planted that bomb in Eli Lavon’s office—to protect Peter. No one could touch you, not in a place like Austria. The window had closed for you a long time ago. You were safe. The only person who could pay a price for your crimes is your son. That’s why you tried to kill Eli Lavon. That’s why you murdered Max Klein.”
    He turned away from Gabriel and peered into the darkness.
    “What is it that you want? What do you want to know?”
    “Tell me about it, Radek. I’ve read about it, I can see the memorial, but I can’t picture how it could really work. How was it possible to turn a trainload of people into smoke in only forty-five minutes? Forty-five minutes, door to door, isn’t that what the SS staff used to boast about here? They could turn a Jew into smoke in forty-five minutes. Twelve thousand Jews a day. Eight hundred thousand in all.”
    Radek emitted a mirthless chuckle, an interrogator who did not believe the statement of his prisoner. Gabriel felt as though a stone had been laid over his heart.
    “Eight hundred thousand? Where did you get a number like that?”
    “That’s the official estimate from the Polish government.”
    “And you expect a bunch of subhumans like the Poles to be able to know what happened here in these woods?” His voice seemed suddenly different, more youthful and commanding. “Please, Allon, if we are going to have this discussion, let us deal with facts, and not Polish idiocy. Eight hundred thousand?” He shook his head and actually smiled. “No, it wasn’t eight hundred thousand. The actual number was much higher than that.”
    A GUST OFsudden wind stirred the treetops. To Gabriel it sounded like the rushing of whitewater. Radek held out his hand and asked for the flashlight. Gabriel hesitated.
    “You don’t think I’m going to attack you with it, do you?”
    “I know some of the things you’ve done.”
    “That was a long time ago.”
    Gabriel handed him the flashlight. Radek pointed the beam to the left, illuminating a stand of evergreens.
    “They called this area the lower camp. The SS quarters were right over there. The perimeter fence ran behind them. In front, there was a paved road with shrubbery and flowers in spring and summer. You might find this hard to believe, but it was really very pleasant. There weren’t so many trees, of course. We planted the trees after razing the camp. They were just saplings then. Now, they’re fully mature, quite beautiful.”
    “How many SS?”
    “Usually around forty. Jewish girls cleaned for them, but they had Poles to do the cooking, three local girls who came from the surrounding villages.”
    “And the Ukrainians?”
    “They were quartered on the opposite side of the road, in five barracks. Stangl’s house was in between, at the intersection of two roads. He had a lovely garden. It was designed for him by a man from Vienna.”
    “But the arrivals never saw that part of the camp?”
    “No, no, each part of the camp was carefully concealed from the other by fences interlaced with pine branches. When they arrived at the camp, they saw what appeared to be an ordinary country rail station, complete with a false timetable for departing trains. There were no departures from Treblinka, of course. Only empty trains left this