and the back door opened. Youkelstein maneuvered his old bones into the car—no reason to put off the inevitable showdown. A hand reached out to help him—it belonged to an old friend.
“Hello, Ben,” said the man he’d known for so many years as Aligor Sterling.
Chapter 62
They drove past the hordes of people outside the gates of the estate with help of the police escort. The gates opened and they pulled up to the grand front entrance.
Youkelstein and Aligor exchanged no words as they were whisked into the mansion.
“It’s such a beautiful day, Otto,” Youkelstein broke the silence. “I’m surprised you didn’t choose to walk instead of ride … in your chair.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ben.”
“I saw you leaving from your visit to Eva Braun’s luxury cell, very much on your feet. And she only had one visitor in the log last night, who happened to sign in under the name Otto. It’s a name that would be hard to trace, but one I’m quite familiar with.”
Aligor didn’t flinch. He just smiled. “And they say I’m the great spy.”
Youkelstein wasn’t as good at keeping his emotions in check. He always wore his fiery passion on his sleeve, and seeing his onetime kindred spirit here—up close—he felt a fire burn in the back of his throat. “I don’t understand. You were there with me at Terezin! I saw you beaten by the Nazis until you spit up blood.”
“I was in so many places and called so many names. I was once Petey O’Neill from Ireland, and then of Brooklyn. I was Agent Peter Jansen in the British SIS. And I’ve been known as Aligor Sterling since 1944.”
Youkelstein would have thrown up, but he was certain he had no insides left.
“I won’t rehash the story of the brilliant escape-pod designed by the Führer, codenamed Apostles. I’m sure you’ve gotten your fill of that the last few days. And your instincts were correct to believe in Ellen.”
Aligor wheeled into a large office and the door shut behind them. He took a seat behind a large mahogany desk.
Youkelstein sat across from him. He looked right through his old friend, and out a large window behind the desk. It displayed a great view of the enormous front lawn, which led to the sturdy gates. Behind those gates was an unsuspecting world they were preying on.
“I was suicidal after Esther’s murder and you saved me. You healed my soul.”
Aligor smiled. “I saved your life in much more tangible ways than that, Ben. You see, my boss was the Reichsführer-SS Himmler. And as usual, he was only concerned with saving his own ass. So for PR purposes he worked a deal with Switzerland to release a number of Jews from concentration camps in December of 1944. Of course, he also got a nice sum in one of his Swiss bank accounts for his efforts. Himmler never did anything for free—even save himself. You weren’t originally on that list, Ben, but I made sure you ended up being released.”
Youkelstein wasn’t feeling very grateful. “So everything has been a lie?”
“It became quite obvious that the war would end badly for Germany. So we were forced to put the Apostle plan into motion, and the Führer honored me by offering me a large role in launching the operation. My American cover was that of a young Jewish doctor from a wealthy family in Prague, who had been incarcerated by the Nazis. I’ve always been a firm believer in research—so I did time at Terezin preparing for my upcoming role.”
Youkelstein wanted to stab him in his sardonic smile. Kill him in cold blood, just like the Nazis did to Esther. But it wouldn’t help. Aligor was just a piece of the machine, and he had to stop the machine from rolling uncontrollably down the hill.
The room began to spin. The book-cased walls were whizzing by like he was looking out the window of a moving subway car. But it stopped just as quickly. Something had caught Youkelstein’s eye, and the world froze. Like a hypnotic sleepwalker, he struggled to rise to his feet and shuffled to the large painting that hung on the sidewall of the office.
Aligor noticed the source of his attention, and glowingly stated, “It’s the 1959 wedding of my ‘sister’ Erika and Joseph Kingston.”
And to show off their macabre humor, the wedding photo was shot to the exact look of Da Vinci’s painting of The Last Supper.
“It was the last time all of the original Apostles