"But time, Fräulein Loewenstein, is the one thing of which we have a short supply," Schlacht said curtly. "As Professor Festhaller knows, this is not a project devoted merely to the acquisition of abstract scientific knowledge. There are military ramifications to all of this." He turned to Weyrauch. "What have been the results of the
interrogations? What have we learned about Kaldy's origins?"
Weyrauch shrugged. "Kaldy is not cooperative, Helmuth.
He spends most of his time staring off into space, and questioning him is very similar to speaking with a wax
dummy."
Schlacht's face grew red with anger. "What in God's name
is wrong with you, Gottfried?" he shouted. "I gave you the authority to use whatever means necessary to obtain information from the prisoner. Why haven't you used them?"
"Herr Colonel,"
Petra
interjected, her voice soft and patient, "the conventional devices of interrogation, pain and the threat of death, are of singularly little use with someone who apparently cannot be injured or killed."
Schlacht stood up from behind his desk and walked to the
door of his office. He opened the door and said, "Vogel!"
His adjutant snapped to attention in the anteroom. "Herr Colonel?"
"Have the two Gypsies brought up here at once." He slammed the door without waiting to hear Vogel's affirmative response, and turned back to
Petra
. "We shall see what methods will be effective in eliciting cooperation from our
friend Herr Kaldy."
Louisa, who had been doing her best not even to listen what was being said, jumped to her feet and shouted,
"Helmuth, don't you dare hurt those men!"
Schlacht spun around and approached her menacingly. "Or
you will
do what, Louisa?" He waited for the response which
he knew would not be forthcoming. "This is not fifteen years
ago, cousin, and I will not tolerate your impertinence indefinitely. Do not think for a moment that your
relationship with me makes you as invulnerable as your Gypsy
friend. Our concentration camps can easily accommodate one
more loud-mouthed traitor."
"Helmuth..." Weyrauch began nervously.
"Shut up, Gottfried," Schlacht snapped. "And control your wife's tongue, or you will both regret
it."
Weyrauch
fell obediently silent as Louisa sat down, frightened
and angry.
Festhaller spoke calmly, as if the confrontation had not
just occurred. "As I see it, we need to learn the following things from him: one, how he became a werewolf in the first
place, and why, if there is a why; two, what understanding he has
, if any, of the process of the change."
"And three,"
Petra
added, "how he can be killed or
injured."
"We are not at the moment interested in killing him," Schlacht replied, calming down slightly.
"No,"
Petra
said, "but we are interested in analyzing his physical body, and we cannot do that if we cannot pierce his skin. We must know if he can be injured or killed,
because such information may enable us to extract blood and
tissue for analysis."
Schlacht nodded. "Good thinking, Fräulein." He paused
thoughtfully. "The legends speak about the power of silver..."
"Yes, the silver bullet,"
Petra
said. "I attempted to scrape his skin with a blade of solid silver. It was ineffective. Silver seems to have no more of an effect on
him than any other material." Louisa remembered what Blasko
had told her about trying unsuccessfully to kill Kaldy with a silver bullet, but she did not mention it.
Why should I?
she thought dismally.
It would be fine with me if Kaldy
killed each and every Nazi in Europe
.
"The legends are untrue, in other words," Schlacht said.
"Possibly,"
Petra
replied. "Again, we are still operating largely in the dark. But I repeat, we must learn how he can be killed or injured." As she spoke she reached
into her purse and took out her surgical mask and surgical cap. Schlacht and Festhaller exchanged amused looks as she
donned them. "I repeat my recommendation, gentlemen," she said. "Inasmuch as we do not know what we are dealing with here, I suggest that you follow my example and guard y
ourselves from infection."
Schlacht laughed. "I, ah, tend to doubt that werewolvery
is a disease which can be passed from one person to another as if it were a cold. That is, to say the least, an amusing
notion."
"No doubt,"
Petra
replied, her dark eyes gazing coldly at Schlacht through the narrow slit between the mask and the
cap. "I am quite certain that if anyone had suggested six hundred years ago that bacterial-infected fleas hopping from rats to humans were responsible for the Black
Death, most people would have been amused by the assertion."
"You should be aware, Fräulein," Festhaller said quickly, "that recent historical research has tended to
indicate a Jewish involvement in the spread of that
disease."
Petra
ignored his comment and said to Schlacht, "We have had one bit of success, by the way. Kaldy does produce saliva, and I have begun a chemical analysis of it."
"Results?" Schlacht asked.
"Little as yet, though I have isolated an enzyme in his
saliva which I cannot identify. I am continuing my tests."
"An enzyme in the saliva," Schlacht mused. "Tell me,
Fräulein, do you think there is a possibility that the old
legends are correct in saying that the bite of a werewolf creates another werewolf? If there is a strange substance in
his saliva..."
"I am a scientist, Herr Colonel," she replied. "I prefer
not to speculate in the absence of concrete data."
Schlacht nodded and smiled at her. "The proper approach,
of course. You are doing good work, Fräulein Loewenstein. I must remember to mention that to Dr. Mengele when next I speak to him." This was as close as Schlacht chose to come to an apology for his previously hostile attitude, and as
Petra
nodded her head to accept the compliment, he thought he detected her mouth curl in a smile beneath the surgical mask
.
A moment later the door swung open and two guards dragged Kaldy and Blasko into the room. Blasko looked around nervously and then, seeing Louisa, he smiled. "
Bion journa
,
Donna," he said in Romansch.
"
Bon journo
," she replied in Italian, smiling at him, pitying him, fearing for him.
He looked over at
Petra
, her face hidden beneath her mask and cap, and then smiled again at Louisa. "
La Famma
blanka
," he grinned.
The lady in white
.
The guards positioned Kaldy and Blasko in the center of
the room, and Festhaller, Weyrauch and
Petra
turned their chairs around to face them as Schlacht strode up to Kaldy
and said. "We have certain questions which you will answer,
Gypsy. Let me warn you before we begin that any reluctance
to reply will have the most unfortunate results." He waited
for a response, and when none seemed forthcoming he added,
"And we all know that you can speak German, so don't bother
trying to pretend that you don't understand
me."
Kaldy turned his weary eyes slowly to Schlacht and said
softly, "I understand you full well
.
I
am just not very
impressed by you."
Schlacht was overwhelmed by a sudden wave of rage at the Gypsy's words, and he struck out at Kaldy's face with a
closed fist. Kaldy's head snapped back from the impact and
then righted itself. No blood issued from his nose or mouth, no bruise appeared on his cheek or eye. He gazed at Schlacht
impassively. Schlacht struggled to master his anger as he said. "You may very well be difficult to injure, pig, but
there is a way to hurt you, and you can rest assured that we
shall find it. In the meantime, your friend here is not blessed with your unique qualities.
If I
stab him, he will
bleed.
If I
torture him, he will scream. So if you value
your friend's life,
I
suggest you cooperate."
Kaldy looked over at Blasko, and saw the fear in his friend's face. Blasko had not understood what Schlacht had said, but he
was
able to surmise it. Kaldy sighed. "Ask your
questions. I shall answer them."
"Very
well,"
Schlacht said. He turned to Festhaller.
"Perhaps you had better do the questioning, Herr Professor.
I might not be able to control my anger at this animal's
insolence."
Festhaller coughed and leaned back in his chair. "How did you become a werewolf?"
Kaldy shrugged. "I do not know."
Festhaller frowned. "Are you attempting to be amusing,
Gypsy? I asked you a question and I expect to receive an
answer. How did you become a werewolf?"
"I have answered your question," Kaldy said calmly, his
voice a tired monotone. "I do not remember how I became a
werewolf. I suppose that another werewolf bit me."
"So the bite of a werewolf does create more of his
kind," Schlacht observed.
"I believe so," Kaldy replied.
"And you have done this yourself?"
"I believe so," he repeated.
"How often?"
"To the best of my knowledge, only once."
"When?"
"I do not know."
Schlacht folded his arms angrily. "How did you become a werewolf?" he asked, repeating Festhaller's question.
"I do not know."
"Why does this change come over you?"
"I do not know."
"How can creatures like you be killed?"
"I do not know."
"Yes, nor would you tell me if you did," Schlacht spat.
"Do you expect us to believe that you have no knowledge of your own being, of your origins, of how your condition
originated?"
"Your belief or disbelief is of no interest to me,"
Kaldy said languidly.
"But your friend's freedom from pain is of some interest
to you, is it not?" the colonel demanded. Kaldy nodded and Schlacht went on, "Then I suggest you make a greater effort
to be cooperative."
Kaldy sighed and asked, "Do you remember your own
childhood, Colonel?"
"Of course I do," he replied. "What has that to do with
...?"
"And which memories are clearer in your mind, those of
your childhood or those of last year?"
Schlacht bristled. "Get to the point, Gypsy."
Kaldy's eyes moved away from Schlacht and gazed at a distant nothingness. "Time passes and memory fades. I am
immortal, this much I know, but the experience of so long a life buries memory beneath layers and layers of experience.
A human being can remember his childhood but dimly, and when he reaches old age his memories become jumbled and erratic; and such old age is as nothing to me." He smiled
sadly as if at some private joke. "There is a drawback to immortality, you see, something which does not occur to those who desire to live forever. Memory was not made for immortality, memory cannot absorb immortality. I remember the past hundred and fifty years with some clarity. Beyond
that it begins to fade. Eventually it becomes darkness, and
beyond the darkness it becomes emptiness, it becomes
nothing."
"Hundred and fifty...!" Weyrauch muttered. "How old are
you, Kaldy?"
"I do not know." he replied. "The first date I can fix
in my mind is 1789, the year of the French Revolution. It was in that year that I was released from prison."
"Who imprisoned you?" Weyrauch asked.
"I do not know."
"When were you imprisoned?"
"I do not know."
"How long had you been in prison?"
He shook his head. "A century, two centuries. I really
do not know."
"But this is an absurdity!" Schlacht said. "It is
impossible to forget one's own origins!"
"Not necessarily, Helmuth," Weyrauch said quickly. "If what he says is true, if he is indeed as old as he claims to be, then his mind may not be able to accommodate all of the memories and experiences he has undergone. Faced with centuries of life, his memory may very well be inadequate
for the task of retaining it all."
"Butâ¦"