The following day the phone rang at early hours of the morning, but Vincent was far too tired to fully wake up and see who was calling. Half an hour went by and the phone rang again.
"Hello?" Said Vincent, his voice raspy from having a sore throat.
"Mr. Baroni, my name is Miguel. I'm the dispatcher for International Movers. I'm calling you about the piece of furniture you hired us to pick up from San Carlos de Bariloche." Said the man over the phone.
"Yes, of course. How are you?" Asked Vincent, surprised by the call.
"Well, my men say they are at the location you provided but no one seems to be at the house. They rang the doorbell a few times and a neighbor told them that no one lives there anymore."
"But that's impossible, I was there two days ago. I spoke with the owner of the house and she knew you were coming." Said Vincent confused by Miguel's account.
"Well, I spoke to the neighbor on the phone and according to him another moving company showed up and took everything yesterday. The gate is now chained to a lock." Replied Miguel, also confused by the situation.
"I don't know what to say." Replied Vincent, worried that Ms. Reichenbach swindled him and took the trunk with her.
"I'll try to sort this out as soon as I can. In the meantime, please accept the payment for having gone there in vain." Offered Vincent to Miguel.
"That won't be necessary Mr. Baroni, our company policy covers these kinds of circumstances. I was simply calling to inform you. Have a good day." Said Miguel before he hung up.
Vincent was worried all of a sudden, wondering if he had been duped, but as much as he wanted to find out what happened with Ms. Reichenbach, he had woken up with a chill and a series of aches. It felt like the flu and something else that insisted he stay home and rest. He tried searching on the web the symptoms he felt and with little effort soon found a recipe for a hot ginger spiked tea someone on a health forum recommended he drink.
A short while later he felt immediately better after drinking two cups of that stuff. However, he was definitely in no shape to go outside, even though it wasn't much of an option due to bad weather and a forecast of incessant rain. Instead, he puttered around the house trying to figure out where his grandfather's personal belongings would be; perhaps a letter of instructions or even where his will would be kept. He sat on a chair and thought for a while, going over all the available options even though subconsciously he already knew where it could be.
The floor safe in the shop was the only place secure enough to store anything of value, but was useless without the combination to the lock. Unsure and uneasy about having to snoop on his grandfather's personal belongings, he began searching in the office, and possibly the desk; which housed several large drawers and therefore he thought, something of interest should be found there.
He had not been in that place in such a long time that as soon as he flicked on the light switch, his eyes noticed a change of the surroundings, only to realize he had simply forgotten how cramped and small that room actually was. Most shelves appeared in disarray and certainly not the way his grandfather would organize them. His head quickly scanning the room, soon noticed a crow bar on top of the desk, prompting him to check the other side, only to find that the lock was forced open and little pieces of broken metal and oak were all strewn on the floor.
Although the idea of a break-in was the first thing he considered, it was quickly ruled out once he noticed that the glass cabinet with all the valuable war junk was essentially intact. He pulled on the main drawer anyways, only half way at first, revealing typical office supplies, an envelope with all sorts of useless receipts, a ball of rubber bands, enough ammunition for an army of staplers and dozens of pencils of different size. Even though the contents did not reveal much else, Vincent kept with his search by opening the rest of the drawers, unexpectedly encountering some resistance with the last one on the right side. He yanked at it a few more times without any success, cursing under his breath, frustrated with himself.
In an attempt to remain calm, he circled the room a couple of times before stopping in front of a series of framed black and white photographs arranged on an adjacent wall. One of them depicted a group of men dismantling a jeep, which gave him the necessary spark to get on his knees and crawl underneath the desk to inspect how the locking mechanism worked. To his surprise, the wood underneath felt moist, an indication that it was rotting from within, probably due to the controlled humidity levels used to preserve the valuables in the room.
He used the same crowbar and brute force. The drawer burst open on the first attempt but was stuck, with only a third of it exposed. Vincent peered inside of it, triggering a fit of anger as soon as he saw the contents and something which he didn't expect; a sealed stack of A5 printer paper and nothing else. Frustrated at the haphazard mess he'd made; he channeled his anger by kicking the drawer shut. To his surprise, the violent impact produced a rattling noise that came from inside.
He leaned down once again, pulled open the drawer and found a silver skeleton key wedged on the side. Its unique design being a perfect fit to the lock he'd seen before on that tall glass cabinet. As soon as he twisted the key and heard a series of clicks, Vincent realized for the first time that he had never actually seen what it looked like inside.
Once open and in full view, three additional drawers hid underneath. Although the first and second drawers only contained more of the same items kept behind the glass; pamphlets, stamps and war propaganda neatly arranged by size, the third drawer had a photo album and other miscellaneous items that did not reveal much at first glance.
Vincent took the album to study its contents and sat comfortably on an old leather reclining chair next to the desk. The first few pages contained military records and correspondence, hand written in such a manner that only a doctor could understand.
As he flipped through, several sepia photographs appeared embedded within pages, almost hidden from view. One in particular from all the others stood out, it had soldiers standing next to high-ranking officers similar to those he often saw in the vintage LIFE magazines they had at the shop. It was not so much the men in the photograph but rather a medal on one of those uniforms. He thought of it with his eyes closed, confident he had seen it before, but struggled to concentrate due to another threatening headache, forcing him to stop.
As a way to regain some clarity and be able to process his thoughts, Vincent went back to the house in search of ibuprofen and another cup of that miraculous beverage. He waited impatiently staring at the microwave while it boiled his tea, when he suddenly noticed a reflection on the glass door, his backpack sitting on a nearby stool. His eyes grew wider in awe, his arms stretching as he almost leapt for it, removing all of its contents in a frantic; three books, two smaller boxes and the case containing the gun.
He chose to open the smaller boxes first. The first one was blue and it contained seven different war medals from different nationalities. Three seemed to be American, two appeared British and the rest were French. Vincent could only imagine they were trophies of another kind, possibly someone's confirmed kills. The second box, a fading grey and noticeably heavier than the last contained only one item that was wrapped in red silk. Struggling to contain the excitement built by the intrigue of the event, Vincent unwrapped the cloth and soon realized the badge he now held in his hand was none other than the Knight's Cross; a high-ranking Nazi medallion, indistinguishable due to its unique black color, a golden swastika in the center and a protruding but also fading "1939" that was exactly as the one he'd seen on that photograph!
Bewildered by his discovery, Vincent took everything back to the shop driven by instincts he recognized as key towards deciphering the mystery before his eyes. One by one, he first inspected the two thick photo albums that stood out among everything else. The first one, labeled "Frühling 1938", was a large collection of family gatherings and different people ranging in all ages but none that Vincent recognized even in the slightest. The second book, the one Vincent initially noticed when he first opened the trunk at Ms. Reichenbach's house, was a little thinner than the first. A gut feeling told Vincent this had to be it and opened the cover revealing a title page with only the year "1944".
Although the first few pages were completely blank, the bottom pages had corners of photos sticking out from the sides like improvised bookmarks, alerting the reader where it might have left off. Taking the hint, he pulled open those pages first, almost fainting when his eyes locked on the image in front of him. A continuation of the original photograph he had seen in the book found in the cabinet, where several high-ranking Nazi officers, gathered around a dinner table and smiled at the camera directly in front of them.
The man with the Knight's Cross was none other than Reichenbach himself, an SS officer and the obvious owner of all the items he now held. Nonetheless and despite the overwhelming evidence, Vincent remained in disbelief as to how his grandfather could be in possession of a copy of the same photograph.
He sorted through dozens of photos and just as he was close to giving up, his eyes locked on a familiar face, a man in a separate photograph with striking similarities he could no longer ignore. Although the person did look rather young, the symmetry of his eyes and the shape of the nose were a perfect match, revealing a doppelganger of Lorenzo Baroni himself.
Visibly shaken, Vincent took a step back, his heart rate increased as his eyes grew wider when he flipped the back of the photograph in search of more clues and found written in the same cursive font as the previous correspondence, "Herr Eichmann in Õsterreich, 1945".
He jumped to his feet and ran towards the computer room, typing the words he'd seen on all those photographs, desperate to translate them and find out what they meant and possibly help contradict his own suspicions. Within fractions of a second, a series of words in German appeared, followed by images of Lt Col. Otto Adolf Eichmann and news clippings from when he was apprehended for war crimes by Mossad agents in May of 1960 in Buenos Aires, Argentina, less than 15km from where Vincent and his grandfather lived. His heart sank in disbelief. He read the entire news article twice and little by little small things, memories, family details and every bit of his upbringing began to form a narrative that made sense, only now that his eyes acquired a new kind of sight.
If the man in the photograph wearing the Knight's Cross was Reichenbach, what could the connection to Adolf Eichmann or Lorenzo be? Were some of the thoughts that Vincent tried so hard to comprehend.
At some point his insides grumbled for much needed sustenance, although he knew he couldn't stop, and by now was ravenous for the truth. Determined to find something else that might give him more to grab onto, he went back to the first books found in the cabinet, where he'd seen a series of documents that appeared tucked between sections, its pages glued to one another with intention. Using a pencil he found nearby, pried open those pages and a single folded piece fell out. It was a note containing no names but rather a series of numbers, abbreviations and random letters grouped in pairs.
A second search on the web for known acronyms immediately identified the letters as blood groups. "A, B, AB, O" and so on, giving Vincent a clue from which to latch on. Trying another approach, he searched for information related to the words "SS and Blood Types", instantly giving him a series of results, which upon inspection almost caused him to fall backwards from his chair.
According to a site that specialized in Nazi history, it revealed that SS officers of the Third Reich had their blood groups tattooed on their body as a means of identifying high-ranking officers in the event of death.
Unsure of his next move, Vincent sat motionless in front of the screen and pondered about everything that he had discovered along the way, understanding just how deep this mystery turned out to be. Carefully inspecting the previous document once again, he went over every bit for anything worth observing and that's when he noticed an important detail. A series of digits similar to a phone number, yet separated by a dash in between appeared on a column next to each of the blood groups. He introduced each series of numbers and hit "enter", allowing the search engine to do its thing, except nothing came of it other than several results involving area codes.
A second attempt was made, except this time he used a JPEG generator that produced images instead of text. After a couple of clicks, the search engine quickly came up with a series of military dog tags, giving Vincent the necessary vindication of the intuition, he felt.
No longer able to ignore his bodily functions, he got up to go pee, accidentally knocking down the stack of books he had on the desk. The impact released yet another piece of paper folded in half. The document was titled "Immigrazione", coincidentally in a language oddly familiar to him. With a quick glance he managed to spot his grandfather's last name along with two others he did not recognize but assumed it applied to the other SS officers who also appeared to be involved.
A spark of ingenuity alerted him on the possibility that these men were using numbers as identification instead of their real names. What Vincent had found without realizing at first, were falsified immigration records that suggested the three Nazis had used Italy as a ratline and out of Nazi Germany a few months prior to the end of the war.
The phone at the office suddenly rang, startling Vincent and catching him unprepared. A flashing light on the receiver indicating the caller was on the second line, meaning someone was calling the house instead.
"Hello?"
"Vinny! It's me! I'm outside, can you please open the door?" Said Camila, excited to have caught him by surprise.
"Ohm, you are here, outside? Yeah, just hold on a bit." Said Vincent somewhat annoyed at the interruption but suddenly relieved to know it was her.
"Vinny!" Was all Camila could say as she flung herself and hugged him.
"I rang the bell several times and knew you were home when I saw the kitchen light on. Did you not hear me?" Asked Camila, her arms still wrapped around him.
I'm sorry I didn't hear you; I was at the shop."
"I didn't have time to tell you earlier but…." Said Vincent, his demeanor changing as he spoke, pausing in between but was soon interrupted when she noticed his lower lip tremble a bit.
"Shh! I know!" Was all she managed to verbally convey.
"My sister spoke with Julio and that is how we found out. When she told me, well I couldn't believe it either!" Said Camila while she gently caressed Vincent's face and could see massive tears welling up, vying to break the water tension built in his eyes.
Vincent looked at her and tried his best to hold it together but struggled with himself, allowing those tears to stream down his face, triggering a wave of emotions he could no longer contain.
Camila had never seen another grown man aside from her father cry like that. The way in which Vincent sobbed had an equal effect on her. Despite his confident demeanor, his pain felt deeper still, a notion that suggested he was a lot more fragile than he appeared.
"As soon as my sister told me, I left the photo shoot and came straight here. I just wanted to see you."
"I'm sorry you went through this alone." Said Camila, trying to comfort him, acting her toughest and suppressing her own emotions in return.
Vincent kissed her and smiled for the first time in a while. Her presence meant he would no longer have to feel like he did a few hours ago. She led him to the kitchen and looked after him by making fresh tea and serving some pastries she'd bought along the way. They sat by a window overlooking the backyard and ate quietly for a while.
"What were you up to before I came?" Asked Camila, both her hands cradling the mug so she could warm up.
"Before you came by, I was in the process of looking for my grandfather's will. His body is currently at the morgue waiting to be transferred to a funeral home." Said Vincent as he sipped his beverage while thinking how to best share some of the findings he discovered along the way.
"You remember that trunk full of antiques that I wanted to give him as a gift?"
"Yes of course. I was still sort of uneasy by that." Said Camila, frowning ever so slightly, revealing a dimple in the corner of her mouth he hadn't noticed before.
"Well, in that case, it's safe to say that you are going to get very uncomfortable once again." Said Vincent rather quietly.
He tried explaining but hesitated, his lips struggled to move, unable to produce the right words, or a structure of sentences that would tip toe around the subject, minimizing the shock it may produce on her.
"First off, the truth is never simple. I now know because I just found out myself."
Camila looked puzzled. She crossed her arms in search of security, leaning closer with her entire body interested in preparation of what he was about to say.
"A few hours before you arrived, I was looking through my grandfather's most prized possessions after I found a photograph of him in an envelope I took from that trunk." Said Vincent before finishing his cup, allowing Camila to process what he had said.
Her reaction was priceless. She took a sip and then coughed, almost spraying tea all over the window next to them.
"Wha…what?!!" Was Camila's initial response.
"What do you mean you found a photo of your grandfather in that trunk? That makes no sense!" Said Camila with a raised tone, doubting for an instant, thinking Vincent could be pranking her.
"Listen, I am as perturbed as you are but it doesn't stop there. He is also somehow connected to all that crap that belonged to the SS officer, known as Reichenbach." Said Vincent trying to collect his thoughts while thinking how much he should even disclose.
"I know it sounds insane but you should see it for yourself. Please follow me into the shop, that's where most of the stuff is anyways." Said Vincent while taking Camila by her hand and leading her back to the shop next door.
Camila gasped when she saw all the stuff on top of the desk and realized by the way in which bits of wood and metal decorated the office floor that what Vincent had told her was actually true.
He picked up the photo album, opening it to where the photo in question had been, displaying its contents for Camila to see. Her eyebrows widened the moment she noticed the uncanny resemblance in the photograph and took a few steps back in awe.
"…But that's impossible! How could…how could this be? ...unless…" Said, Camila before stopping mid-sentence, suspiciously hesitant about continuing and thinking about something that she knew would sound crazy if she said it aloud.
Thinking hard about the importance of all those documents, the secrecy and planning it must have taken, Vincent came to a similar realization he had not considered earlier. With both papers in front, the German serial numbers along with the blood types and the Italian immigration document bearing new identities for all three officers led him to a crucial detail he had missed despite being right in front of him. All the numbers from either document were composed of six digits each, which Vincent later arranged in pairs.
The idea he had arrived at earlier made a lot of sense now that all the numbers were organized and could be applied on something verifiable. He looked at Camila with certainty, asking her to follow him to the room next door, where the floor safe hid inconspicuously in a corner of the shop. The first five tries were unsuccessful, almost defeating the cause. However, on his last attempt, even the knobs ticked as he matched the numbers with those of the safe and could hear faint sounds as the locking mechanism finally latched into place.
Camila squeezed his thigh, digging her nails without realizing her fears produced a compulsory reaction to the situation around her. Vincent turned the handle counter clockwise, struggling with the lever, its hinges probably lacking necessary grease. Camila assisted him by pulling open the heavy door, soon revealing troves of things Vincent had never seen before.
He could not believe he had cracked the safe. He sat motionless realizing he had managed to decipher the combination using a bunch of old documents no one thought existed. They both looked at each other in disbelief and one by one, they pulled all the contents that were stored inside.
He first took three manila envelopes, hoping to find a will but instead found documents belonging to all the assets his grandfather owned, such as the house, the shop and a bank account.
As he went through each one, meticulously examining the fine print, Vincent could not believe that his name appeared on all the titles and deeds, claiming to be the sole and rightful owner of each. Confused because he barely had a few t-shirts to his name, he looked at another statement, one belonging to the central bank of Argentina, also bearing his name followed by a summary of available funds that ended with more zeros than he had ever seen. Startled by such find, he turned to look at Camila who also looked equally surprised.
She then pulled two boxes out from the safe and handed them over for him to inspect. One was a leather rectangular case and the other an old Nike shoebox. The box contained several outdated passports bearing his grandfather's Italian name and a black velvety pouch tied by a knot that was easily undone with the help of Camila's long fingernails. Once loose and its contents glimmering on Camila's left palm, left Vincent motionless at the sight of half a dozen uncut diamonds that had been locked up for God knows how long.
"I guess your grandfather wasn't lying when he said he arrived in this country with nothing more than a suitcase and $20 in change. I guess this is what he brought in his case." Said Camila, nervously laughing a bit.
Vincent muttered something about how heavy the box he was holding felt, immediately dropping it on the floor surprised by its contents as soon as he barely managed to peek inside of it. Camila looked at him and asked if he was ok, reaching for the hinge that would open the box. Her eyes grew wide, in awe at a 1916 Luger Walther pistol, with Nazi eagles on the black wooden grip.
"Jesus H. Christ!!" Was all she could bring herself to say.
They both looked at it in disbelief. Vincent could not believe his eyes and neither could Camila, her hands visibly shaking as she realized the serious implications that object represented and the ghosts it carried with it.
"Now I know what she meant." Said Vincent under his breath as he flipped through the old passports that were in the shoebox and noticed several stamped pages that suggested his grandfather had traveled to Germany, Austria and back to Italy on numerous occasions up until the year 1955.
"What do you mean? Who are you referring to?" Said Camila now visibly concerned.
"Well, when I went to the morgue the day after we found him dead, I was initially informed that my grandfather had died of a heart attack, which seemed odd to begin with because he didn't have a history of cardiovascular disease and he was pretty healthy despite his age. Because I also had to identify him as my next of kin, while I was there, the person I spoke to showed me a sort of red rash the pathologist had found all over his upper body and face. According to the autopsy, his body went into cardiac arrest due to concentrated amounts of cyanide."
"I didn't want to believe it at first but I am now pretty certain that my grandfather committed suicide given that cyanide pills were the standard form of damage control amongst high-ranking Nazi officers."
"But that doesn't explain why or what motivated him?" Offered Camila in return.
Vincent handed her the immigration records and photograph of the two officers appearing next to Adolf Eichmann before he said,
"I know but given everything that I have discovered since yesterday, it just adds up. Take a look for yourself."
"When I did a bit of research on this guy, he was apprehended here in Buenos Aires in 1960. Reichenbach died of old age as far as I know which leaves my grandfather as the last surviving member. I don't have solid proof but when you read about Nazis who escaped the war and fled towards Africa and South America, the majority of high-ranking officials must have travelled with other officers or handlers as they were also known."
"So, you're saying that your grandfather was a handler for Eichmann, who came to Argentina along with his commanding officer as a way of protection?" Offered Camila while she choked up trying to comprehend what she had just suggested.
Vincent could only shrug at the realization.
"I don't know what to say Vince. I'm overwhelmed by all this."
He reached in for the last folder in the safe and found a letter that had been dated only a day earlier and was addressed to Vincent himself. Bewildered by the discovery and unsure of what he was looking at, he took the letter and began to read.
October 5th. 2006
My dearest grandson,
There are some things in this life that are worth more than you know, something that took me years to realize and even more to accept. Love and regrets are unique in their hurt, and it's something that you will learn with age despite what others may say.
Many years ago, on a day like today, your mother took her own life, leaving you in my arms, calm as if you knew all along that that day would come. On that same day I also took an oath to protect you as my own, hoping to exchange my faults for a chance to undo all my wrongs. You see, no one can run from their past, despite the best efforts, your demons always catch up because they know where you hide.
Everything that you will eventually find is yours to keep or do as you wish. Although I tried my best at giving you everything that you need, you deserve much more. I could never explain who I used to be, that part of my life will be buried with me. Do try to understand that despite all of that, I always wanted to give you the chance that I never had.
Love always,
Tuo Nonno