Searching for Wallenberg by Alan Lelchuk

Author:Alan Lelchuk
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-942134-15-2
Publisher: Mandel Vilar Press
Published: 2015-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

On the Malév Airline morning flight to Stockholm he read through his notes, which he had worked on all through the evening and next day, after his tea with Dora, the skeptical daughter. The Zsuzsanna tale was an extraordinary one, no doubt—worthy of an Isaac B. Singer story, filled with miraculous faith and fairytale myth. Meticulously, Manny had written down everything about the meetings, from sepia photographs to sensational claims, not knowing what was important and what was dross; at home he would have much to digest. And at the tea Dora was once again sizing him up, to see whether he was remaining honest and trustworthy. (With her short skirt and pretty smile, was there also a seductive subtext?) In turn, Manny asked the small dark-haired beauty to check up on her mother, and see if she was truly serious in writing a memoir, and if so, to help her gather her “materials.” Dora smiled, her thick lips and shining eyes mobile— mocking him or her mother? Or both? (“Yes, Mum does have a small desk locked up in the country cottage,” she acknowledged, “and it’s remained a secret even from me.”) At the end he left with her his copy of William James, saying, “This may interest Mom.” Now, riding smoothly above the white clouds, he felt satisfied, having come through a challenge, and now heading back to Sweden to check out his mole in the bank.

Back in his B and B in Stockholm, he wrote an e-mail note to Peter, and when he heard nothing by the next morning, he walked over to the Enskilda and asked for him. A gray-haired gentleman emerged from the barred-off area, escorted Manny to a private chair, and asked what was his business with “this Peter?” Manny explained it was a personal matter. And what was his last name? Manny was taken aback and tried to recall a name. The young banker nodded politely, and rejoined that there had been “a Peter” who had been transferred to another branch, beyond the city, and that if Manny wished to leave a note for him, he would send it on. Helpless, Manny scribbled a note and departed.

Gathering his thoughts, he walked around the town, past the tidy shops and the seaside yachts, took a coffee, and spent an hour and a half in a pocket-sized museum of Swedish interior designs, observing a new robotic vacuum cleaner and new automatic coffee machine and flat wall-mounted stereo, and assorted other elegant inventions dating back to the 1950s. After, he walked back to the street of the bank just near the five o’clock close, and waited across the street alongside a busy cheese shop. Soon, the employees began filing out steadily; no sign of him. After a half hour of standing there in the fine June weather, he moved off, found out the listed time of the next morning’s opening, and meandered about again. He took a dinner in a small restaurant, observing the well-dressed patrons and thought about what it might mean if no Peter turned up.

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