The Rembrandt Affair

single sheet of paper he accepted in the sitting room of a suite at the Ambassade Hotel. He examined it for several moments in the half-light before placing it on the coffee table and peering curiously at Gabriel and Chiara over his gold half-moon reading glasses.
    “I thought you two were hiding out from Shamron in the deepest corner of Cornwall. How in the world did you get this?”
    “Is it real?” asked Gabriel.
    “Absolutely. But where did it come from?”
    Gabriel gave Lavon an account of the investigation thus far, beginning with Julian Isherwood’s unannounced appearance on the cliffs of Lizard Point and ending with the story of Lena Herzfeld. Lavon listened intently, his brown eyes darting back and forth between Gabriel and Chiara. At the conclusion, he studied the document again and shook his head slowly.
    “What’s wrong, Eli?”
    “I’ve spent years searching for something like this. Leave it to you to stumble on it by accident.”
    “Something like what, Eli?”
    “Proof of his guilt. Oh, I found scraps of corroborating evidence scattered across the graveyards of Europe, but nothing as damning as this.”
    “You recognize the name?”
    “Kurt Voss?” Lavon nodded his head slowly. “You might say that SS-Hauptsturmführer Kurt Voss and I are old friends.”
    “And the signature?”
    “To me, it’s as recognizable as Rembrandt’s.” Lavon glanced down at the document. “Whether you ever manage to find Julian’s painting, you’ve already made a major discovery. And it needs to be preserved.”
    “I’d be more than happy to entrust it to your capable hands, Eli.”
    “I assume there’s a price involved.”
    “A small one,” said Gabriel.
    “What’s that?”
    “Tell me about Voss.”
    “It would be my distinct displeasure. But order us some coffee, Gabriel. I’m a bit like Shamron. I can’t tell a story without coffee.”

25
    AMSTERDAM
    E li Lavon began with the basic facts of Kurt Voss’s appalling biography.
    Born into an upper-class trading family in Köln on October 23, 1906, Voss was sent to the capital for schooling, graduating from the University of Berlin in 1932 with degrees in law and history. In February 1933, within weeks of Hitler’s rise to power, he joined the Nazi Party and was assigned to the Sicherheitsdienst, or SD, the security and intelligence service of the SS. For the next several years, he worked at headquarters in Berlin compiling dossiers on enemies of the Party, both real and imagined. Ambitious in all things, Voss courted Frieda Schuler, the daughter of a prominent Gestapo officer, and the two were soon wed at a country estate outside Berlin. Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler was in attendance, as was SD chief Reinhard Heydrich, who serenaded the happy couple on the violin. Eighteen months later, Frieda gave birth to a son. Hitler himself sent a note of congratulations.
    Voss soon grew bored with his work at SD headquarters and made it clear to his powerful backers he was interested in a more challenging assignment. His opportunity came in March 1938, when German forces rolled unchallenged into Austria. By August, Voss was in Vienna, assigned to the Zentralstelle für jüdische Auswanderung, the Central Office for Jewish Emigration. The bureau was led by a ruthless young SS officer who would change the course of Voss’s life.
    “Adolf Eichmann,” said Gabriel.
    Lavon nodded his head slowly. Eichmann …
    The Zentralstelle was headquartered in an ornate Viennese palace appropriated from the Rothschild family. Eichmann’s orders were to cleanse Austria of its large and influential Jewish population through a mechanized program of rapid coerced flight. On any given day, the splendid old rooms and wide halls were overflowing with Jews clamoring to escape the wave of virulent anti-Semitic violence sweeping the country. Eichmann and his team were more than willing to show them the door, provided they first pay a steep toll.
    “It was a giant fleecing operation. Jews entered at one end with money and possessions and came out the other with nothing but their lives. The Nazis would later refer to the process as the ‘Vienna model,’ and it was regarded as one of Eichmann’s finest accomplishments. In truth, Voss deserved much of the credit, if you can call it that. He was never far from Eichmann’s side. They used to prowl the corridors of the palace in their black SS uniforms like a pair of young gods. But there was one difference. Eichmann