"Adam, what—” Vilmos began.
"I’ll explain everything later," I said, and hastened away before he could ask any more questions.
After a single stop, I walked over to the ditch where a fifteen-year-old boy had been stabbed in the throat. There, standing on the lip of the ditch and kneading his hands, was Ludwig.
He stopped fiddling when he saw me, drew his hands apart, and rubbed them dry on his trousers. He pulled back his shoulders and tilted his chin up, but he couldn’t hide his nervousness. He crackled with it. When I stopped before him, I could see his forehead and upper lip were damp. The odor of sour, anxious sweat wafted off him, easy to pick out even over the stench of the nearby latrines.
"Listen,” he said. “Don’t tell Aliz, okay? I’ll make it worth your while. Here." His hand dipped into one of his pockets and came out holding a half pack of chocolate, which he held out to me. I wanted it, so I took it. It was as simple as that. “And I’ll get you your medicine. I promise.”
That was a lie. I could tell by the way his eyes went on a trip before returning to mine. He would string me along until he found a way to get rid of me, just as he’d gotten rid of Franz. There was no moral boundary he wouldn’t cross to have Aliz.
"There’s something else I want," I said.
"Anything. You name it, I’ll get it for you.”
"I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”
"I thought you already knew."
"I want to hear you say it. I want to understand."
He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and rolled it between his teeth. His hand went to his cheek, and he rubbed it like he was trying to remove a stain that wouldn’t come off.
"I saw her first," he began at last. “Aliz. The day she came to work in Kanada, I saw her and knew immediately that she and I belonged together. I’d never felt anything like that. Never. She was mine."
"But she fell in love with Franz instead of you."
His mouth twisted. The thought of Aliz with Franz, with anyone but himself, cut deep.
"The bastard knew how much I wanted her, and he didn’t care. He still went for her, and she fell for his charms." He gritted his teeth. "I saw her first.”
"Couldn’t you let it go? Be happy for them?"
"No. But I made Franz believe that I was. I pretended to be okay with it."
"And at the same time, you decided to get rid of him.”
He nodded.
"Why not just kill him and be done with it?"
“Because I'd never killed anyone in my life. And because what he’d done to me was the ultimate betrayal. Death was too good for him. So I decided to make his biggest fear come true.”
“The Lageralteste" I said.
"Yes, the Lageralteste. We’d heard warnings about his affinity for pretty teenage boys. Franz was terrified. He became quite adept at hiding his face whenever the Lageralteste or one of his underlings was around. And he never bribed them with any of the stuff we found in Kanada. I took care of all that."
"Why did you have the Lageralteste come to Kanada to see Franz? Why not arrange for it here in camp?"
"I wanted her to see him."
"Aliz?"
"Yes. I wanted her to see the Lageralteste, how big and frightening he was. I wanted her to know that Franz was gone forever. I wanted her to harbor absolutely no hope that he would ever return. I wanted her to need comforting, consoling, and I planned on giving it to her."
Sour bile rose in my throat. It hurt when I swallowed it down. What Ludwig had done was completely unnecessary. He had hurt Aliz for no reason. Which made me think that he had wanted to hurt her; to punish her for loving someone else. This wasn’t love that he felt for her, but a perverted possessiveness, akin to that felt by the Lageralteste toward Franz.
"You should have seen Franz," Ludwig said, a small sinister smile playing on his lips, "how he turned white the second the Lageralteste entered that warehouse. I thought he might faint. I don’t blame him. The Lageralteste looked at him like he wanted to devour him whole. I admit that I felt a twinge of remorse at that moment. But it passed when I remembered that Franz had stolen Aliz from me."
"He didn’t steal her. They fell in love."
"He bewitched her with his good looks. So I made sure he paid for those good looks." Ludwig’s eyes blazed. "I saw her first. He should have respected that."
I drew in a breath, conscious of time running out and still needing to know everything.
"Was it true what you told me, about Franz not wanting to see you?"
"Yes. I don't know why he said it. I was disappointed. I enjoyed visiting him every day and seeing him suffer.”
"Did he ask you to pass on any messages to Aliz?"
"I thought he might, and of course I wouldn’t have done it, but the only thing he wanted me to tell her was that she should forget him. I was astonished, and delighted. It meant I didn’t have to lie to her."
You lied to her every day, I thought, when you pretended to still be Franz’s friend. But of course, Franz and Aliz weren’t the only victims here.
"Did you know what would happen to Bruno, Franz’s predecessor? That he would be killed to make room for Franz?"
At first Ludwig didn't answer. Then he gave a quick, almost furtive nod. He had persuaded himself that Franz had been deserving of his fate, but he couldn’t do the same in Bruno's case. Bruno had simply been in the way, so he’d had to die.
"So that’s it," Ludwig said. “Now you know everything. So just keep your mouth shut, and I'll make it worth your while."
"That's not everything," I said. "You still haven’t told me why you killed him.”
Ludwig frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”
"How did you get Franz to meet you here? Why did you take the murder weapon with you?”
"You think I killed Franz? Whatever gave you that stupid idea?"
"Did you kill him because you realized Aliz still loved him? And would always love him as long as he lived?"
"She loves me."
"No, she doesn't. She just tells you she does so you’ll bring her food. She loves Franz.”
"You’re lying."
"Not only does she not love you, Ludwig, she hates you. Want to know why? Because she knows what you did to Franz. I told her."
For two seconds, Ludwig stood utterly frozen. Then his face contorted and he let out a bellow. His hand went into his other pocket, and I caught a glint of steel in his grip. Then he charged me. Still roaring, he whipped the short blade at my face, but he clearly didn’t know what he was doing, and I easily sidestepped his attack and buried my fist in his kidney.
My muscles had dwindled in the camp, but my fury lent me strength. Ludwig cried out as the punch connected, and the knife dropped from his grasp. He fell to his knees, one hand clasped to his side. He looked at me with unalloyed hatred. But then his expression turned to dread.
"I thought I made it clear that he was mine,” came the menacing voice from behind.
"I had no choice," I said, turning to the Lageralteste. "He came at me with a knife."
The Lageralteste wasn’t alone. Mathias and Otto were also present. They stood a little behind their boss.
"A knife, eh? That thing? Is that what he used to kill Franz?"
It was a switchblade with a brown handle and a blade about as long as my forefinger.
"I didn’t kill Franz,” Ludwig said. “I swear it.”
The Lageralteste sneered. “You hear that, fellas? He swears it.”
He took a step toward Ludwig, who scrambled back on his ass.