"Lenz's widow?" Ben asked, sitting upright. "Yes, Jurgen Lenz mentioned his mother had retired there."
"You spoke with Jurgen Lenz?"
"Yes. You know him, I gather?"
"Ah, this is a complicated story, Jurgen Lenz. I must admit to you, at first I found it extremely difficult to accept money from this man. Of course, without contributions we would have to close down. In this country, where they have always protected the Nazis, even protect them to this day, I get no donations. Not a cent! Here they haven't prosecuted a single Nazi case in over twenty years! Here I was for years Public Enemy Number One. They used to spit at me on the street. And Lenz, well, from Lenz this so clearly seemed to be guilt money. But then I met the man, and I quickly changed my mind. He's sincerely committed to doing good. For example, he's the sole underwriter of the progeria foundation in Vienna. No doubt he wants to undo his father's work. We mustn't hold against him his father's crimes."
Sonnenfeld's words resounded. His father's crimes. How bizarre that Lenz and I should be in a similar situation.
"The prophet Jeremiah, you know, he tells us, "They shall say no more, the fathers have eaten a sour grape, and the children's teeth are set on edge." And Ezekiel says, "The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father." It is very clear."
Ben was silent. "You say Strasser may be alive."
"Or he may be dead," Sonnenfeld replied quickly. "Who knows about these old men? I've never been able to make certain."
"You must have a file on him."
"Don't speak to me of such things. Are you in the grip of the fantasy that you will find this creature and he will tell you what you want, like some genie?" Sonnenfeld sounded evasive. "For years I have been dogged with young fanatics seeking vengeance, to slake some sense of disquiet with the blood of a certified villain. It is a puerile pursuit, which ends badly for everyone. You had persuaded me you were not one of them. But Argentina is another country, and surely the wretch is dead."
The young woman who had answered the door when Ben arrived now reappeared, and a murmured conversation ensued. "An important telephone call which I must take," Sonnenfeld said apologetically, and he withdrew to a back room.
Ben looked around him, at the huge slate-colored filing cabinets. Sonnenfeld had been distinctly evasive when the subject came to Strasser's current whereabouts. Was he holding out on him? And if so, why?
From Sonnenfeld's manner, he inferred that the telephone call was expected to be a long one. Perhaps long enough to allow a quick search of the files. Impulsively, Ben moved to an immense, five-drawer filing cabinet marked R-S. The drawers were locked but the key was on top of the cabinet: not exactly high security, Ben noted. He opened the bottom drawer, found it densely packed with yellowed file folders and crumbling papers. Stefans. Sterngeld. Streitfeld.
strasser. The name penned in brown faded ink. He plucked it out, and then had a sudden thought. He went to the K-M file. There was a thick file for Gerhard Lenz, but that wasn't the one he was interested in. It was the thin file next to it the file for his widow that he wanted.
This one was tightly wedged in. He heard footsteps: Sonnenfeld was returning, more quickly than Ben had expected! He tugged on the folder, worried it from side to side until it was slowly released from the others. Taking the trench coat he'd draped on an adjoining chair, he quickly shoved the yellowed folders under it and returned to his seat just as Sonnenfeld entered.
"It's a dangerous thing to disturb the peace of old men," Sonnenfeld announced as he rejoined him. "Maybe you think they're toothless, wizened creatures. Indeed they are. But they have a powerful support network, even now. Especially in South America, where they have extensive loyalists. Thugs, like the Kamaradenwerk. They are protected the way wild animals protect their enfeebled elders. They kill whenever they must they never hesitate."
"In Buenos Aires?"
"There more than anywhere else. Nowhere are they so powerful." He looked weary. "This is why you must never go there and ask about the old Germans."
Sonnenfeld got up unsteadily, and Ben rose, too. "Even today, you see, I must have a security guard at all times. It is not much, but it is what we can afford to pay for."