“Terror had walked with him through every waking moment, had slept with him—when he slept at all—in his tumbled bed, had peered over his shoulder, one bony hand clutching his black heart, whenever he opened a newspaper or Gareth Wyatt’s mailbox. Terror born of three apparently unconnected incidents and bred of the ever-present knowledge that sooner or later the past must catch up with him. Or if not with Hans Maas, with Otto Krippner. The first of the three occurrences had been a brief menti...on in the press of the demise by suicide of one Nichos Charalambou at his home in Crete. Charalambou, an ex-Nazi no less than Maas, one-time Commandant of the ‘Advanced Medical Unit’ at Saarenlager, had finally been tracked down by Amira Hannes and her squad of Israeli bloodhounds. Before the Israelis had begun any sort of interrogation, however, the old man had shot himself—at least, so it was reported. Certain documents, including a will, discovered in the house at Rethimnon had proved conclusively that Charalambou was in fact Gerhard Keltner, a frightened puppet of a man whose wartime activities had been somewhat more cowardly than criminal.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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