The Mastersinger From Minsk (2012)
“Entering, he had a wide-eyed look of expectation, as though he were anticipating good news. “So, Preiss, I assume your little tête-à-tête with The Great Man himself yielded some real results. What have we got that will make the Commissioner a happy man?”
“What have we got? Well now, Brunner, I’m not certain what we’ve got, but I have come across something of more than passing interest. Does the name Cornelia Vanderhoute resonate with you?”
“Resonate? What do you mean ‘resonate’?”
“L...et me put it more plainly, then. Do the words ‘Cornelia Vanderhoute’ sound familiar?”
Brunner’s brow furrowed, his eyes closed tightly, he pursed his lips, signs of a man searching earnestly, deeply, into a distant dark past. Finally he shook his head. “The name means nothing to me, Preiss. Why do you want to know?” As he asked this, his eyes, open again, fell on a sheet of paper which I had deliberately positioned on my desk exactly midway between us.MoreLess
“What have we got? Well now, Brunner, I’m not certain what we’ve got, but I have come across something of more than passing interest. Does the name Cornelia Vanderhoute resonate with you?”
“Resonate? What do you mean ‘resonate’?”
“L...et me put it more plainly, then. Do the words ‘Cornelia Vanderhoute’ sound familiar?”
Brunner’s brow furrowed, his eyes closed tightly, he pursed his lips, signs of a man searching earnestly, deeply, into a distant dark past. Finally he shook his head. “The name means nothing to me, Preiss. Why do you want to know?” As he asked this, his eyes, open again, fell on a sheet of paper which I had deliberately positioned on my desk exactly midway between us.MoreLess
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