Montezuma’s Revenge полностью

“Permit me,” Jacob Goldstein said. “A tale of murder and greed now comes to an end. This Hochhande ran a prison camp in Italy where, apparently, D’Isernia’s family was killed. D’Isernia concocted a plan to unearth Hochhande using these works of art. The Americans were blamed for destroying the museum that housed them, and he played on this guilt by asking a large sum of money for their return. Unhappily, they must continue to bear this guilt, only partly alleviated by the return of one of the paintings to Italy. So the pieces fall into place. Italy has the painting.”

“Safely,” Timberio said. “It will be returned and the Americans will get full credit for their part in this matter.”

“Davidson was murdered, and the police now have the killer in their hands.”

“We do,” Gonzales said, smiling at the unhappy Robl. “Justice will be done.”

“The ransom money has been returned, the United States Treasury will be satisfied.”

“No one leave till ah count it.”

“So it ends. D’Isernia died happy, if anyone can be said to die happy. All the pieces fall into place.”

“What about this one?” Gonzales asked, pointing at Hochhande.

“What about me?” Hochhande shouted, spitting the words at them. “You can do nothing to me, my papers are in order, I have committed no crimes in Mexico except to file under a false name. That was done to protect myself, a matter of survival, no crime. I have a passport in my true name, issued legally by Argentina, so go ahead, export me there. You cannot touch me. You are all fools, never bright enough to see me although I was in full view all the time. A little surgery to resemble the Fiihrer, needed to obtain the paintings, placed in the bank here by Robl in his name. It was done, and once done capitalized upon. How I have laughed at you! Who would have expected a double disguise? Once you had penetrated to the identity of Jakob Platz, dead many years ago on the Russian front if you want to know, you were instantly satisfied. I lived in your midst and laughed at you. I would still be laughing if that fool Italian had not tempted that idiot Robl with his grandiose plans.”

He swayed and almost fell. Goldstein looked at him with eyes that brimmed with centuries of sorrow.

“A very good question, Lieutenant. What shall we do with this miserable old man? I am sure, as he says, that his papers are legal to with doubt, will permit his exit to Argentina where he will once more vanish. So, what to do? To my knowledge he has committed no Mexican crimes. He means nothing to you, does he, Lieutenant? If you are concerned for his safety I will be glad to take care of him for you. When we leave here I will see that he goes where he belongs.”

“Stop him, Lieutenant, you have a duty! He wishes to take me, take me to Germany the way he did with that Dummkopf Thasler, smuggle me out in an El Al airplane concealed in a case of kosher pickles. Nein! You must not let this happen.”

Gonzales carefully turned his back on Hochhande and offered Goldstein a cigarette. “This man speaks atrocious English,” he said. “I cannot understand a word of it. You had better see that he gets home safely. You do not seem a man of vengeance.”

“I don’t think I am,” Goldstein said, tiredly, drawing deeply on the cigarette. “Vengeance, revenge, they cannot be satisfied. Look at poor D’Isernia there. There must be an end to killing. But not to law. Millions were killed by these creatures, killing the surviving few will not restore the dead or exact any kind of vengeance. But each trial is a victory for something, if only to remind us what some human beings did to others, and to prevent it from ever happening again. But I think this will be my last operation. The world is running out of live Nazis just as I am running out of energy. If we have not yet learned to live in peace we never will.”

“Amen to that. We are both men of law and peace. You take care of your last Nazi and I’ll take care of mine. The world will surely be a better place without either of them.”

“All tied up then,” Sones said, rubbing his hands together, “A successful operation.”

“Ah ain’t through counting yet.”

“One little unfinished matter,” Timberio said, drawing Tony aside. “Perhaps not important in the light of Cellini paintings, million-dollar ransoms, murderers and Nazi criminals. Our agency does not operate on your American budget, you can well understand that, so there is still the sum of a thousand pesos.”

“Many thanks for the loan. Let me see, a thousand pesos is about eighty dollars, so here is a hundred; you might say the extra twenty is interest and wear and tear on your motor scooters.”

“Grazie tante. And here is your wallet, ticket, papers, all intact.”

“Nobody leave. Even with thu money from their pockets there is a hundred dollars still missing!”

“Come on, Stocker, let us not be petty,” Sones said. “They probably spent it, hiring that boat, chalk it up to profit and loss.”