Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 20

Ziegler got in the back of the staff car with Jacob Sternberg, Bayer driving. “Take us to Aaron Peeters’ home.”

“Turn right,” Sternberg said, “and two blocks down, turn left.”

Peeters’ apartment was not far from Claudette Maes. It was a charming street, flower beds by the curb and in window boxes. But in the distance, two houses lay in ruins, victims of German air raids, bombs likely meant for the port.

As they got out of the car, Ziegler turned toward the main road. “This seems familiar.”

“The exchange is only a block away,” Sternberg said, pointing. “The thieves got in through a back entrance in the garden.”

Ziegler looked up the street, trying to visualize the route the blonde woman had taken. He turned to Sternberg. “Let’s see what Mr. Peeters has to say.”

“I assure you he had nothing to do with the missing diamonds,” Sternberg said, drawn and pale. “He knows I planned to give them to the Germans.”

“We would have taken them anyway,” Ziegler said curtly. “With no special treatment.”

“Is this Herr Peeters’ address?” Bayer asked as they approached the building.

“Yes,” Sternberg said, looking like his world was ending. “He’s on the first floor,”

The building was a few centuries old but well maintained, with a sweeping arch that led to the entrance. They entered, finding a tiled vestibule, and Sternberg took them to an apartment that faced the road.

“Mr. Peeters,” Sternberg called as he knocked on the door.

It was opened a moment later by an elderly woman, slender, her white hair showing streaks of gray. “Mr. Sternberg,” she said, her eyes wide when she saw the soldiers.

“Move,” a soldier directed, pushing her out of the way.

“Aaron,” the woman called, frightened. “Jacob Sternberg is here with German soldiers.”

An older man came from a bedroom, slightly stooped, wearing a white shirt and red tie with a brown sleeveless sweater. Thick glasses with black rims were perched on his nose, his hair short and white.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused.

“Aaron, the exchange has been robbed,” Sternberg explained. “The industrial diamonds we had saved for the Germans were stolen.”

“That’s terrible,” Peeters groaned, as if he understood the consequences. “When did this happen?”

“During the night,” Sternberg replied. “When the Germans took the city.”

Peeters blinked several times. “I know nothing about this.”

“Were you the last to leave the exchange?” Sternberg asked.

The old man thought for a moment, but then nodded. “Yes, I was.”

“Was the vault closed?” Ziegler asked, not introducing himself.

“It was,” Peeters replied. “I check it every night before I go.”

“Why are you here?” Mrs. Peeters asked, her voice trembling. “My husband has done nothing wrong.”

Ziegler ignored her and fixed his gaze on her husband. “Did you lock the doors?”

“Yes, of course,” Peeters said. “Why would I not lock the doors? I always do.”

“Nothing unusual happened?” Ziegler asked.

Peeters thought for a moment and slowly shook his head. “No, not that I can recall. I locked the doors and walked home.”

“Did you come straight home?” Ziegler asked.

“No, he stopped to get me hamantash,” Mrs. Peeters said. “At the bakery on the corner.”

,“Cookies,” Sternberg clarified to the Germans’ confused looks.

Ziegler studied the older couple, trembling with pale faces. They knew nothing. He changed tactics. “You live close to the exchange,” he said, his focus now on information.

“Yes, we do,” Peeters nodded.

“Did you notice anything unusual that night, around eleven?” Ziegler asked.

Peeters glanced at his wife. “We were frightened. German soldiers were coming.”

“Many of our neighbors had already left,” Mrs. Peeters said. “We’re one of the few who stayed.”

Ziegler watched them closely, searching for signs of deception. “Did you see anyone suspicious, a civilian, maybe someone who didn’t belong.”

Peeters thought for a moment. “No, not that I remember.”

“The young lady,” Mrs. Peeters reminded him.

“What young lady?” Ziegler asked,

“Yes, we did see a young woman,” Peeters said, as if he had just remembered. “We went out on the front stoop because of all the shouting, and she was running down the street.”

“What did she look like?” Ziegler asked.

“She was young, blonde,” Peeters said. “She got in a car.”

“The soldiers fired at her when she drove away,” Mrs. Peeters added.

Ziegler glanced at Bayer standing by the door. “Did she have anything with her?”

“Yes, a canvass bag and a smaller satchel,” Mrs. Peeters said.

Ziegler turned to Sternberg. “Perhaps an Allied spy does exist. That would be very good for you.”

Sternberg sighed audibly and glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Peeters. “No one at the bank would steal diamonds. I would bet my life on it.”

Ziegler looked at Bayer and chuckled. “You are betting your life on it, Herr Sternberg. You just don’t realize it.”

Sternberg briefly closed his eyes, as if trying to will the nightmare away.

“What type of car did she drive?” Ziegler asked.

“It was green, I think,” Peeters said. “A dark green.”

Ziegler rolled his eyes. “What model car?” he asked loudly.

“It was a Minerva, I’m sure of that,” Peeters stammered. “A few years old, maybe a ’35 or ’36.”

“Did you see the license plate?” Ziegler asked.

Peeters slowly shook his head. “No, I didn’t. But it was damaged, the automobile.”

“How was it damaged?” Ziegler asked. “By bullets?”

“The back fender on the passenger’s side was dented and scraped, and the back taillight was missing. And whatever damage the bullets did.”