Read Online No Light by Michael Costello - Free Book Online Page B

thought. He was powerless, unable to walk. I prayed that some kindness would be shown him; maybe a friend would aid him. The German beckoned us to sit. Grabbing one of the dining table chairs, he shook it for some reason, before sitting cautiously and allowing himself to barely touch the seat. He took off his cap, brushed it with his hands and laid it neatly on his lap. His blonde hair was short, shaven at the sides. I slowly sank on to the settee with Camille clinging to my side, weeping uncontrollably. The German smiled.
    “I am Oberscharfuhrer Ralf Hartmaan. You are?”
    I felt no desire to answer him, but spoke all the same.
    “Paul...Paul Politzer.”
    “And she is?”
    “She is my wife, Camille.”
    “The Rabbi, Solomon Politzer. He is your father?”
    “Yes, my father. Where have they taken him?”
    “Forget about him. What is your work?”
    “I own a small art shop in Rue des Rosiers.”
    Hartmaan nodded.
    “Jewish Art?”
    “Mostly my own work.”
    “...and your wife”
    “She teaches music at L’Academie Musicale de Villecroze.”
    Hartmaan looked at Camille who tightened her grip on my arm. I noticed the remaining gendarme was examining my father’s collection of silver samovars on the sideboard. He held one close to his face, peering over the intricate details that adorned the surface.
    “Please don’t touch those.” I shouted.
    My raised voice startled Hartmaan. He looked at the gendarme who smiled and showed him the samovar.
    “Hmm...Nice piece! Are they yours?”
    “They belong to my father. Please tell him to put it down.”
    Hartmaan ignored my request and turned his attention back to Camille.
    “You are a singer, madam?”
    Camille lowered her head.
    “You are frightened Madam? Please don’t be! My mother is a singer with the Berlin State Opera. Do you know Peer Gynt? She sings soprano and possesses the most beautiful voice. Often she stood before the large windows in our sitting room and sang for me, her body silhouetted by the sunlight, the muslin curtains swaying gently behind.”
    Camille slowly raised her head until she met Hartmaan’s gaze.
    “You are Cecilia Hartmaan’s son.”
    He looked momentarily stunned then he smiled.
    “You know my mother?”
    “I sang with her in Carmen. ..and I have met you.”
    “Have you visited Berlin?”
    “You visited Paris and joined us in La Coupole after the performance. I remember you not being that impressed with Alex. He kept making fun of you”
    Hartmaan, of course! My heart lightened and I began to see some hope in our situation.
    “You didn’t like the word, crusade.” Hartmaan remarked.
    Camille nodded and smiled.
    I wondered what his statement meant. I glanced at Camille then back to Hartmaan. He looked agitated.
    “I will sing for you Herr Hartmaan. And when you return to Berlin please tell your mother you met Camille Berman and that she sends her love.”
    The gendarme laughed.
    Camille began to sing, quietly at first, but her song was not from Peer Gyn t. The beautiful music sprang from her. A song my mother sang to me as a child,
     
    The voice of my beloved is coming,
    Leaping on the mountains,
    Dancing on the hills...
     
    I gazed at her and my heart almost shattered with desire. Each note seemed to fill her eyes with radiance. Hartmaan now sat expressionless but for a thin smile on his lip. It was impossible to gauge his thoughts. Suddenly, he stood up, drew his pistol from its holster, extended his arm and fired! I watched in horror as the bullet smashed into Camille’s forehead, her hair ballooning behind her as it exited the back of her skull. She sat momentarily suspended between life and death before falling back on the settee, her head lolling to one side, her eyes fading, her radiance gone. I leapt to my feet, my face splattered with her blood. I still held my father’s stick. Without thinking I swung it at Hartmaan. The heavy handle caught him on the cheek and he lurched sideways, dropping the pistol. I swung