Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 14

Sergeant Bayer drove to the home of Claudette Maes, a three-story apartment building constructed a hundred years before. Two soldiers on a motorcycle with a sidecar followed them. The street was lined with trees, only a few parked cars—many refugees had yet to return. A woman pushed a baby carriage down the pavement, hurrying away as they approached, as an older man watched them curiously from his stoop, enjoying his pipe.

Bayer parked the car and opened the door for Ziegler and Sternberg. As the motorcycle approached, Ziegler called to one of the soldiers. “Go around back and guard the fire escape.”

As the soldier went behind the building, Sternberg led them up the walkway. “She lives on the second floor.”

“Let’s hope she’s our culprit, Herr Sternberg,” Ziegler said. “The sooner the diamonds are recovered, the easier it will be for you.”

Sternberg didn’t reply, his hand trembling as he reached for the door. They paused at the entrance while the soldier checked the hallway. A central staircase led to upper floors, the wooden stairs worn in the center from thousands of shoes that had walked upon them.

The soldier came back down the corridor. “Nothing unusual, sir.”

“Take us to her apartment,” Ziegler said to Sternberg.

The soldier climbed the stairs first, his machine g*n at the ready. A landing on the second floor opened into a hallway, apartment doors on both sides. The soldier scanned the corridor and nodded to Ziegler.

Sternberg turned to the right, went to the second door, and knocked. “Claudette,” he called. “It’s Jacob.”

A moment passed with no reply. “Knock again,” Ziegler ordered.

Sternberg knocked harder. “Claudette, please, it’s very important.”

Ziegler was impatient. “Missen Maes, this is Major Ziegler of the Gestapo. Please don’t waste my time.”

It was quiet, the door still closed. “I don’t think she’s home,” Sternberg said nervously.

Ziegler motioned to the soldier. “Break it down.”

The soldier kicked the door, his boot centered just below the handle, near the jamb. The wood split and the door swung open. He lowered his machine g*n and entered the flat.

The room was dark, the curtains closed. The soldier stood with g*n ready, moving in a circle. They all followed, stepping into a parlor, a kitchen to the left, a bedroom and bath to the right. A cat darted across the floor.

“Come here, kitty,” Ziegler said. He picked up the cat and held it, gently petting him. “I have a fondness for animals, Herr Sternberg,” he said, turning to the diamond dealer. “But I despise people.”

Sternberg’s eyes widened, as if suspecting his fate was predetermined.

“Describe Maes,” Ziegler said. His gaze wandered the room while he held the cat.

Sternberg shrugged. “She’s average, nothing distinct about her. Blonde hair, dark eyes, maybe thirty. She’s loyal, accomplished, very good with diamonds and our clients.”

“Missen Maes,” Ziegler called. “You had best come out. I can make it very difficult for you.”

The flat was quiet. Ziegler turned on the light. “When is the last time you saw her?”

“Yesterday,” Sternberg said. “She left the bank when I did.”

They could see most of the apartment—all except the bedroom and bath.

“I’ll check the kitchen,” Bayer said, pistol drawn.

Ziegler motioned for the soldier to check the bedroom. He stayed a step behind him. The bed was made, the room nicely kept. A closet was off to one side, the door closed. Ziegler pointed toward it.

The soldier stepped forward. He glanced behind a bureau, then stopped at the closet. Standing off to the side, he opened the door, pointing his g*n inside.

Clothes hung on the rod, boxes were stacked on the floor, a shelf above. No space for anyone to hide. The soldier turned away and stood beside the bed. He looked at Ziegler and pointed downward. He knelt, sticking his g*n under the bed.

A second later, he stood. “No one.”

Ziegler pointed to the bath.

The soldier stepped from the bedroom and quietly entered. The door was open, a closed shower curtain across from it. Beside the sink, a glass, toothbrush, and bar of soap sat under a mirrored medicine cabinet. He crept toward the shower. Pushing his machine g*n forward, he whisked the curtain to the side. No one was there.

Ziegler left the bath and walked into the kitchen. “Check the fire escape,” he said to Bayer.

The sergeant went to a window at the rear of the kitchen and moved the drapes aside. Sunlight streamed in. He lifted the lower sash and stuck his head out, looking in all directions.

“Nothing,” he said.