Chapter 11
I TURNED MY OPENMOUTHED STARE ON JIM. HE WAS standing, one hand on the back of the chair. His face wore its thoughtful expression-lips tight, eyebrows emphatic.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
Jim took his time about answering. He walked to the window and stood looking out, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Didn’t you hear what he said?”
“I don’t understand German, if that’s what it was. It sounded pretty incoherent.”
“It was. I only caught a couple of words. Something about returning from the dead.”
“He and Kore must be members of the same weird religion,” I said.
“Kore’s obsession is with the ancient past,” Jim said slowly. “This guy has a more recent incident in mind.”
“What do you mean?”
Jim came back to the bed and stood there looking down at me. “I’m told I bear quite a resemblance to my late uncle.”
I suppose I had been expecting something of the sort. The evidence had been there all along; I just had not wanted to recognize it.
“So we were right after all,” I said.
“I don’t know about that. As I recall, we avoided coming to a conclusion. But it can’t be avoided any longer. Your Jürgen is the man who was in Crete during the war. The man who killed my uncle.”
“It was duty!”
The voice echoed in the high-ceilinged chamber. I started. I hadn’t heard them approach, but there they stood, both of them. Kore had both hands clasped tightly around the man’s arm. He was still pale, but it was not he who had spoken.
Kore went on passionately.
“He did what he must do. It was war, it was his duty-”
“I remember reading about the case,” Jim interrupted. His eyes were fixed on the older man’s face. “My mother corresponded with various people after the war-she kept the letters. There was some talk of a trial. But the military authorities decided-”
“It was his duty,” Kore said again.
“More or less,” Jim said quietly. “My uncle was out of uniform. You”-he nodded at Jürgen-“you were a captain at the time. You made colonel before the war ended. A real hot-shot officer, weren’t you? I’ve forgotten your name…”
“Keller.” The word was clipped.
“That’s right, I remember now,” Jim said.
“You told me you never thought about it,” I said. “You told me-”
Keller stepped forward, shaking Kore’s hands from his arm.
“You look just as he did, over thirty years ago,” he said, staring at Jim. “He was then twenty-eight years of age. Can you wonder that when I saw your face… I know it well. I have seen it everynight for over thirty years.”
“Why?” Jim asked. His voice was cool, his body relaxed; only his hands, gripping the back of the chair in a hold that whitened his knuckles, betrayed the underlying strain. “Why should he haunt your sleep if you were only doing your duty?”
“Because I knew him,” Keller said. He was moving slowly forward, one step at a time, like a horrible parody of a wedding march. “I knew his work. We had met at Oxford before the war. He was a fine scholar. He had a splendid career ahead of him.”
“And you killed him,” Jim said.
“And I killed him.” Keller continued to move forward until he stood face to face with Jim. They were almost the same height-tall men, both of them. “And now,” Keller went on, “he has come back. No, no, don’t look at me as if I were mad; I am not mad, I know who you are. But I believe in Nemesis-retribution. There is still a debt to be paid. It is fitting that you should be the one to collect it. When I saw you, I knew the time had come.”
His voice got louder and more excited as he spoke. When he raised his clenched fists, I thought he was going to attack Jim. The movement broke the paralysis that had held the rest of us motionless. Jim jumped back; Kore, who had been standing stock-still, her hands pressed to her mouth, cried out and ran toward Keller. She flung her arms around him.
“No, Jürgen, no. It is time for your medicine. Come with me.”
Keller stood quietly. “Time for medicine,” he repeated like a child.
“Yes. Come, come now with Kore.” She tugged at him. He went docilely. Neither of them looked at us as they went out, her arms around him.
Jim came out from behind the bedpost. “Wow,” he said.
“Sit down,” I gasped, reaching for him. “No, here on the bed. Don’t go away.”
“I won’t. Quite a scene, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, don’t pretend to be so cool. You’re sweating. I thought he was going to go for your throat.”
“No,” Jim said thoughtfully. “He wasn’t going to do that.”
“What was he doing, then?”
“Something worse.” Jim mopped his wet forehead with his sleeve. “I had the feeling he was going to kneel. Bare his neck to the knife, if you know what I mean.”
“God.”
“Yeah.”
“I feel kind of sorry for him,” I said.
“My God, do you think I’m inhuman? So do I. The man is off his rocker. There must have been some mental instability to begin with, or this wouldn’t have hit him so hard. There are people who have worse crimes on their consciences and who sleep quite well at night.”
“Jim, you told me you didn’t know anything about the case.”
“No, I did not. I told you I wanted to forget about it. I do. My mother…well, you could say she never got over it. He was her big brother; she idolized him. She’s okay now, I mean she doesn’t go around trailing black veils or anything; but she still has the file of the correspondence about his death. I read it when I was-oh, in my teens. I was looking for a hero about that time, and he was pretty impressive. I suppose that’s what got me interested in archaeology to begin with, but honestly, Sandy, I’m not-I mean, I haven’t thought about the man for years. I used his name, sure, when I applied to Chris for this job. Maybe that wasn’t strictly kosher, but it’s a rough field, there’s a lot of competition…”
“I don’t see why you should feel bad about it,” I said.
“I don’t. I mean, I’m doing a good job. Chris wouldn’t have hired me if I hadn’t been qualified, no matter who my uncle was.”
I decided a change of subject was in order. His finicky conscience was obviously bothering him, no matter how ever he might deny it. And it seemed to me we had more important things to talk about.
“Does Sir Christopher know that Keller is here, I wonder?”
“I hadn’t thought about that. I wonder too.”
“Not to mention Frederick,” I said. “Jim, this is too much, all of them converging on this place.”
“There’s something behind it,” Jim agreed. “I’m pretty sure your father does know about Keller. Chris is another matter. He might not.”
“Well, I sure as hell would ask him if I were you.”
Jim nodded thoughtfully. Then a look of impatience crossed his face and the nod turned into a shake of negation.
“No, damn it. I’m not going to get all involved in some long-dead tragedy. I’m here to do a job, and that’s all that concerns me.”
“You don’t think the tragedy concerns us? Jim, I tell you, these people aren’t here by accident. Something is going on, and I want to know what it is.”
“You’re hopelessly inquisitive,” Jim said remotely.
“It’s all very well to forget the past,” I argued. “But if the past is still affecting people’s lives-our lives-”
“How can it, if we don’t let it?”
“You don’t want to question your precious boss,” I said. “Afraid you’ll lose your job?”
Jim flushed angrily. “I refuse to poke my nose into other people’s business.”
We’d have had a nice, air-clearing fight, right then, if Kore had not returned. She marched up to Jim.
“You have upset him,” she said belligerently. “He has not been so upset for years.”
“I upset him? Oh, well, hell. All right. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t see any need for you to apologize,” I said. It was all right for me to yell at Jim, but when someone else attacked him I was on his side.