Beyond the Shadow of Night(100)

Mykhail lowered his voice. “You would go that far? Seriously?”

Asher nodded.

“You trust me that little?”

“Tell me, Mykhail! For God’s sake, just tell me!”

Mykhail thought for a few seconds, then nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. If you really need to know, the allegations were that I was a member of staff at a Nazi concentration camp.”

“At which camp?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Does it matter? I was never there anyway. They were no more than nasty allegations.”

“But you must remember the details, if only the name of the camp?”

“I’ve forgotten.”

“You can’t have. Tell me which camp, Mykhail. Just tell me!”

“What does it matter?”

“Just tell me, Mykhail. For God’s sake, TELL ME!” Asher threw his glass onto the floor, where it shattered.

“Okay, so it was Treblinka. But remember, no charges were ever brought against me. They couldn’t prove the allegations were true, because they weren’t. Are you happy now?” Mykhail sat back and folded his arms.

Asher nodded slowly, as though weighing up the odds. Then he lifted his head up and leaned forward. “Mykhail. I need to know. I need you to be honest with me.” He gulped and beckoned Mykhail closer. “What I’m saying is . . . I need you to look me in the eye and tell me you were never at Treblinka, tell me that isn’t you in the photograph—the photograph that’s now displayed there.”

Mykhail nodded. “Very well.” He leaned closer, so his face was inches from Asher’s. “All right. I have never, ever been to Treblinka.” He sat back and folded his arms again. “Is that good enough for you?”

Asher’s face trembled, his lower lip not knowing what to do with itself. “Oh God,” he muttered.

Mykhail stayed silent.

“Oh. My. God.” Asher stayed there, his eyes locked onto Mykhail’s.

The two men stared at each other.

“What?” Mykhail snapped eventually. “What?”

“LIAR!”

“How can you say that?”

Asher stood up, let the chair fall over, and took a step back. “Mykhail Petrenko, I know you like nobody else does—nobody on the planet—and I know when you’re lying.”

“Bullshit you do.”

“Yes. I do.”

“So now you can read my mind?”

“Don’t, Mykhail, just don’t. Please. It was the same when we went fishing together all those years ago and you told those men we hadn’t caught anything, and it was the same when you told your papa you put up a fight against them. And a hundred other times. I can’t describe it, but I know that expression on your face. I know, okay. So please, don’t try to deny it any longer.”

Mykhail sighed and covered his face with his hands. He stayed like that for a few minutes, then muttered, “Look. It wasn’t—”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Asher shouted, so loudly he brought on a coughing fit.

Mykhail stayed silent while Asher recovered and spoke again.

“You know, for many years my soul died just a little bit more whenever people tried to replace the truth with wretched falsehood. But I’ve mellowed. The fire in my belly is merely a handful of glowing embers. But please, Mykhail, don’t lie to me. At least, not about this. I know for sure you lied about your parents. You never did go back to Dyovsta when the war ended, did you?”

Mykhail stared at Asher for a few seconds, then looked away. “You know how much that hurts? Knowing if things had been different I could have seen them again?” He shook his head wearily. “But I couldn’t go back. It just wasn’t possible.”

“So it was you in that photograph.”

Their eyes locked, then Mykhail tilted his head to one side and gave a disconsolate shrug. “What are you going to do?” he said quietly.

“Well . . .” Asher picked up the chair and gently sat down at the table again. “The first thing I’m going to do is listen.”

Mykhail looked up, puzzled. “Listen?”

“I need to know for myself, Mykhail. I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

“And then what?”

“Look, I give you my word I won’t go to the police or the newspapers. I just want to know the truth—how you ended up there.”

Mykhail bowed his head and said nothing.

“Mykhail, we’re brothers in all but blood. You have to tell me the truth.”

“I . . . I . . .” Mykhail groaned and stood up. He stepped over to the sink, splashed his face with cold water a few times.

“Trying to cleanse your soul?” Asher said quietly.

Mykhail sat back down before replying. “You promise you won’t tell the authorities?”

“Oh, Mykhail. That’s not why I’m doing this. You were my best friend up until we parted in ’36, and then again since ’97, and you remain my best friend despite this. If it’s important to you, I promise I won’t do anything to get you arrested or put your name in the newspapers again. Apart from anything else I’d . . .”

Mykhail looked up at him, saw his lower jaw shaking a little.