Beyond the Shadow of Night(103)

Mykhail’s eyes turned glassy. He pursed his lips and gulped. “Asher, I’ll do anything you want me to do. Please.”

“Killing thousands of people—Jews or otherwise—is not something I find easy to forgive, regardless of the circumstances.”

“Asher, I’ve explained what I did but I can’t make excuses for it. You know if I could turn the clock back to that day in the POW camp, I’d like to be able to tell you I would have chosen to stay in the camp and rot. But . . .”

“But what?”

Mykhail let out a heavy sigh. “We both know I’d be lying if I said that. You’re a friend and I’m being honest. I did what I needed to do to survive.”

“And that’s as close as you can come to apologizing? To admitting your guilt?”

“I’m . . . I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it is. You wanted the truth. That’s the truth.”

“And if people were to know about this? Your daughter? Your friends and neighbors?”

Mykhail’s voice trembled. “Please don’t destroy my life, Asher. I feel terrible about what I did. I hate myself at times for it, but what good would it do to admit everything publicly?”

“It would tell people the truth.”

“Come on, Asher. You know that people wouldn’t understand. How can anyone make a judgment about this from behind a desk? They’ll make the same decision I would have done if I’d been sitting at a desk instead of rotting in a squalid POW camp.”

Asher nervously rubbed his forehead and thought for a moment. “And that’s your final word?”

“Well . . . yes, it is. I . . . I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Then Asher stood up again and glanced at the back door. “Very well.”

“Very well, what?” Mykhail said. “What are you going to do?”





Chapter 32

Interview room 3, Allegheny County Jail, Pittsburgh, August 2001

Diane needed a few deep breaths. It had been a hard story to take in—one not only of her own father’s part in the running of the Treblinka death camp, but of his subsequent lies and deceit. She stared absently across the table at Asher. Her mind was again back in that kitchen, witnessing the aftermath of her father’s death. The smell of blood brought to her nose by the cool air, the stillness of her father’s body at the table, the back door swinging so slowly she had to stare at it for a few seconds to tell that this was no freeze-frame but reality.

“Diane?” he said. “Are you all right?”

She took a hard swallow, and brought out a Kleenex to wipe away the tears she’d only just realized were wetting her cheeks.

“I won’t go on,” he said. “I think you can guess the rest.”

“You . . . you went back and shot him.”

“I signed a confession to that effect. Hardly seems polite to go back on it now.”

“And you think he got what he deserved?”

Asher thought for a few seconds. “That depends on your views, I guess.”

“On what, exactly?”

“What does and doesn’t constitute a free choice. Your father said I played my own part in the murders at Treblinka, and he was right. He said he would almost certainly have perished in that POW camp had he not volunteered to be a Trawniki, and he was right.”

“That sounds like a no.”

“Did he deserve to die? No, I don’t think he did. The vast majority of choices are free, but in this case?” He shook his head.

“So why did you kill him?”

“You know, Diane, I’m unable to answer that question truthfully. I just know that life’s full of conundrums. If your father had rejected the choice of being a Trawniki, you wouldn’t be sitting in front of me now.”

Diane nodded. “I guess not. But if all you’ve told me is true—”

“Oh, it is,” Asher said. “I might have lied to others, Diane, but I haven’t lied to you. I’ve made that a kind of mission.”

“But why didn’t you just tell the police what Father did at Treblinka?”

“Because I promised him I wouldn’t do that.”

Diane opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t find the words; as a conversation or argument, it was a dead end.

“I guess he was thinking of you,” Asher continued. “Of the stigma or shame you might suffer if the story got out.”

“I can see that. And what if I tell the police what you told me?”

“I’ll deny it. I’ll lie to them, Diane, but not you.”

“Okay.”

“And I hope you can move on with your life. I hope you can be happy with Brad.”

“Thank you.”

“Everyone deserves a little happiness, no matter how late in life. Tell me, are you going to move in with him?”

“I’m going to see my mother first. I don’t know what after that.”

“I know. All this must be a big shock.”

“Quite a few big shocks.”

Asher held his hands out flat on the table. “Well, that’s it,” he said. “I hope you got what you were after.”

“I did.”

“Good,” Asher said, nodding thoughtfully. “Good. I have to go now.”