Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 11

Jacob Sternberg closed his eyes, his entire body trembling. “It could have been anyone!” he cried, Ziegler’s pistol against his temple. “Please, don’t! I saved the diamonds for you—to protect my family and friends.”

Ziegler snickered. “You’re a fool.”

“I swear,” Sternberg said. “Please, Major.”

“Was the vault open?”

“No, it couldn’t have been.”

“The dead man got in,” Ziegler said. “He had an accomplice. Someone knew the combination.”

“My employees would not do this,” Sternberg insisted, beads of sweat on his forehead.

Ziegler ground the pistol against his skull. “Give me the names of everyone who knows the combination. If you don’t, I will shoot you. And I’ll find out anyway.”

“No, don’t!’ Sternberg begged. “Please, I have a family.”

“Then talk. How many have keys to the building and know the combination?”

“Five, including me,” he stammered.

“Are any women?”

“Two women and two men.”

Ziegler smiled as Sternberg shook beside him. “When did you last see them?”

“I saw two of them yesterday,” Sternberg said, his breath in labored gasps. “The others left the city a few days ago.”

“Is either of those you saw yesterday a woman?”

“Yes, Claudette Maes.”

“What does she look like?”

“She’s young, maybe thirty. Blonde hair.”

“Our culprit, I’m sure,” Ziegler said. “But I want all their names and addresses.”

Sternberg closed his eyes, as if he couldn’t cope. “I have them in my office.”

Ziegler kept the barrel against Sternberg’s temple. He turned as Bayer approached, coming from the utility closet.

“I may have found something, sir,” Bayer said.

“What is it?” Ziegler asked, lowering his pistol as Sternberg sighed with relief.

“A business card from a Paris antique shop,” Bayer replied. “But it has writing on the back.”

Ziegler took the card and studied it. “What is Godefriduskaai 99, Pier #3” he asked Sternberg.

“It’s a road along the docks,” Sternberg said, his face pale, as if he was about to vomit. “Pier #3 is one of the wharfs.”

Ziegler put the card in his shirt pocket. “We’re going to Herr Sternberg’s office,” he said to Bayer. “He has names and addresses for me.”

Ziegler led Sternberg up the stairs, jabbing him with his pistol. They returned to the second floor and went to an office at the end of the hall, larger than where the dead body was found. Pleated leather chairs sat in front of a walnut desk, the walls adorned with framed scenes of Antwerp. A family photograph on the desk showed Sternberg, his wife and extended family: children, spouses, grandchildren.

“Stand in front of the desk,” Ziegler directed.

Sternberg stopped, facing the desk.

Ziegler was just to his right, still pointing the g*n. “Get me the names, addresses and phone numbers of those who know the combination, starting with the two still in Antwerp.”

“May I open my desk drawer to get them?”

“Yes,” Ziegler said as he picked up the photograph. “Is this your family?”

“Yes, Major.”

“Do I need their addresses, too, or are you going to cooperate?”

“I will cooperate, Major, I swear.”

Ziegler studied the merchant. “How do I know that you didn’t steal the diamonds?”

“I swear I did not, sir. I arrived shortly before you did.”

“Get me the information.”

“Yes, Major,” Sternberg said. He went behind his desk, sat in the leather chair, and opened the top drawer. He opened a notebook and wrote the information on a piece of paper.

Ziegler studied the family photograph. For a brief instant he thought of his own family, a wife, and two sons in the German army, both somewhere in Norway.

Sternberg handed him the paper.

Ziegler looked at five names and addresses. The locations meant nothing to him. “I want your children’s addresses, too.”

Sternberg collapsed in the chair, his breathing rapid, knowing Ziegler held his life in his hand. “Please, have mercy,” he begged. “My address is the last listed. This has nothing to do with my children.”

“Not yet,” Ziegler muttered. “But it might.”

“Any fault for the theft is mine,” Sternberg said, his lips quivering.

Ziegler looked at the paper. “Where are these locations?”

“The employees live nearby. My home is a few kilometers outside of the city.”

“Hopefully we won’t have to go to your home,” Ziegler said. “It will be very unpleasant if we do.”

Sternberg glared at Ziegler, as if finding courage he didn’t know he had. “I assure you, Major, that none of my employees were involved in the theft.”

“I’ll make that determination,” Ziegler said. He studied Steinberg trembling. “I want you to come with me.”

“But Major, I have no further information,” Sternberg pleaded.

“Don’t make me kill you, Herr Sternberg. It’s far easier if you just do as I say.”

“But Major—"

Ziegler pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the room, the bullet narrowly missing Sternberg, embedding in the wall behind him.

“Ah!” Sternberg screamed, breaking down in tears.

Bayer hurried in the door. “Is everything all right, Major?”

“Yes, it is now,” Ziegler replied. “Herr Sternberg has decided to accompany us to his employees’ homes. I think one of them assisted the Allied spy in stealing the diamonds.”

Sternberg was broken. He sunk in his seat, eyes clenched closed, weeping.

“Come along, Mr. Sternberg,” Ziegler said. “I want to start with the woman.”

Sternberg rose from the chair, took a hat from a rack, and put it on his head. He sniffled as his sobbing subsided and wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Aaron Peeters lives closest. Less than two blocks away.”

Ziegler was intrigued. “Tell me about Mr. Peeters,” he said as they walked from the office. “Perhaps he was involved, too.”

“He’s spent his whole life in diamonds,” Sternberg said.

“How long has he worked here?”

“Fifty years?”

Ziegler was surprised. “How long have you owned the establishment?”

Sternberg shrugged. “It’s been in my family for generations.”

Ziegler considered the description of the dead man’s accomplice. “I’m not interested in Mr. Peeters—at least not right now. Who’s worked here the least?”

“Claudette Maes.”

“Is she the woman you described—the blonde?”

“Yes, it is. She’s been here almost six months.”

Ziegler was convinced he’d found his culprit. He waved his g*n at Sternberg. “Are you going to cooperate, Herr Sternberg?”

Sternberg’s face was pale, his body still shaking. “Yes, sir, I swear I will cooperate.”

“Can I put this g*n away?”

He nodded. “I won’t cause any trouble. I promise.”

They went down the steps toward the entrance. Jacob Sternberg’s expression showed his whole world collapsing.

Ziegler put his pistol in the holster. “You’re very lucky, Herr Sternberg. I’ve decided not to hurt you. At least not yet.”