The Locket by Mike Evans

Author:Mike Evans
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Time Worthy Books
Published: 2012-11-08T00:00:00+00:00

The walk to the boardinghouse took only a few minutes. I arrived at the corner just before dark and checked the address on the paper. A soldier stood nearby with a rifle slung over his shoulder. I would later learn they manned all the corners in the city, at least during those early days after the Nazis occupied our country, but seeing him that evening with the rifle and all his gear left me unsettled. He looked in my direction and when I lingered longer than he expected, he started toward me. I was frightened at first, then I thought of the other soldier’s reaction moments earlier when he’d seen Adolf ’s signature on the paper. No one would bother me. Not that night, anyway. Instead of cowering and waiting for the guard to accost me, I turned away from him, pushed open the door to the boardinghouse, and went inside.

The door opened to a short hallway with a coatrack. A staircase lay just ahead, and to the right a door led into the front room. I glanced inside and saw a sofa along the wall beneath a window that looked out on the street. End tables stood to either side with lamps on both. Chairs were arranged at right angles to the sofa. Paintings covered the walls. As I admired the furnishings, a woman appeared beside me. She wore a teal green suit with flat black shoes. Her gray hair was pulled up in a bun.

She stared at me with cold gray eyes that seemed to bore right through me. Her name was Hilda Gedek and right from the start I did not like her.

“May I help you?” she asked in a tone that made the question sound like a threat.

“I was told you have a room for me.” I handed her the document. “Adolf Eichmann sent me.”

She seemed unfazed by the mention of his name and kept her eyes focused on the document, which she quickly scanned. “You have identification papers?” she asked without looking up.

“Yes.” I handed her the identity card. She studied it a moment, then stepped aside.

A phone sat on a table at the end of the hallway by the stairs. She picked it up and clicked the button on the cradle several times. I heard her talking to someone but her back was to me, which prevented me from hearing what she said. The conversation lasted longer than I expected but after two or three minutes she hung up the phone and returned to me. “Very well,” she handed me the identity card. “I will show you to your room.”

She led the way upstairs to the second floor, then turned and brought me to a room in the corner on the backside of the house. The room was dusty but not as dirty as the apartment in the ghetto. Plaster on the walls was cracked, as was the ceiling. In the corner, a section near the window was broken away, exposing wooden lathing beneath. To the left was a single bed with a blanket folded neatly at one end.

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