Berliner’s labs. I am respected. And I’d like to believe that there are some decent Nazis, too. And in case anyone thinks I am naïve, I do also realize that what keeps me safe is the fact I make Berliner a lot of money.
None of that matters, for I am now starting to feel a familiar tingle of excitement. The Indus pill is a sign. Scientist I may be, but I believe in signs. Let the Nazis do what they want. This little pill might, just might have the power to keep my beloved Martha and me safe. Even in Nazi Germany.
CHAPTER TEN
Max stopped reading.
She ran her fingers over her grandfather’s writing and caressed the embossment of his seal, wondering what it might have been like on that hot day in India, all those years ago. Her eyes stung as she thought about her young and ambitious, blind and foolish Opa.
She turned the pages. “The next few pages are torn,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She turned some more pages. “There’s some writing about his work on the pills. Maybe there’s something about the time he was sent to the concentration camp—”
She set the diary down and looked away.
“Lets stop here while I have some time,” Julian said, “and see what I can find about that dig, perhaps.”
He pushed back his chair and began looking through the books piled in disarray on his floor-to-ceiling shelves. He plucked out a few from the floor, one or two from under his desk. He shoved aside a large pile of exam papers to make room for them. He opened one book and put it away. He opened another and, with an irritated grunt, tossed it aside. He picked up a third. A leather-bound book titled Ancient Civilizations: Archeological Dig Data. “This is a chronicle of who did what and where,” Julian said. A cloud of dust rose from the book as he set it on the desk. With his palm, he wiped the book clean and sat down with a contented sigh.
Julian laid the book flat on the table. “In ‘35 to ‘38 there were five recorded expeditions. Lets see. Dr. Bernard Baston’s group is listedhere.” He read some more. “Nothing else.” Julian scowled and muttered something Max didn’t catch. Suddenly his face brightened and he dashed out.
“Wha—?” Max began. But he was gone. She got up and stood at the door for a few minutes. Should she go look for him?
She went back into his office. Such a cozy space—filled to the brim with musty books, the aroma of fresh coffee still in the air. Through an open window, she could hear the pleasant murmur of passing students on the street a couple floors below. With a sigh, Max returned to her chair. The headrest popped up. Perfect. She let her head fall back.
“Maxine Rosen,” a voice called.
She jumped up, disoriented for a second or two. She had fallen asleep! How awful. She turned. Julian was at the door, holding the doorway with his hands, leaning in. A rascally grin played on his lips.
Max felt moistness on her chin. Drool! She turned away and wiped her mouth with the back of her palm. She should tell him how she had been up curled up in a ball all night trying to be brave. She should tell him everything she had been through the night before. She wanted desperately to prove to him that she wasn’t the sleepy oaf she appeared to be.
She turned back to face him with a forced smile and was about to pick up her bag when Julian took her hand in a firm grip. “I think I may have found something,” he whispered.
They went back to the library area. Julian opened the door to a room at the back of the library with a brass plaque labeled Microfilm Area . It was air-conditioned as cold as a winter day in Greenland, Max thought.
“There’s a book,” Julian said. “People laughed at it when it was released. It has been out of print for years. We had one copy but it’s long lost.” He pulled out a chair in front of a microfilm viewer. “Luckily, it’s here. Look at the screen.”
Magnified on the screen in front of her was a yellowing sheet of
None of that matters, for I am now starting to feel a familiar tingle of excitement. The Indus pill is a sign. Scientist I may be, but I believe in signs. Let the Nazis do what they want. This little pill might, just might have the power to keep my beloved Martha and me safe. Even in Nazi Germany.
CHAPTER TEN
Max stopped reading.
She ran her fingers over her grandfather’s writing and caressed the embossment of his seal, wondering what it might have been like on that hot day in India, all those years ago. Her eyes stung as she thought about her young and ambitious, blind and foolish Opa.
She turned the pages. “The next few pages are torn,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She turned some more pages. “There’s some writing about his work on the pills. Maybe there’s something about the time he was sent to the concentration camp—”
She set the diary down and looked away.
“Lets stop here while I have some time,” Julian said, “and see what I can find about that dig, perhaps.”
He pushed back his chair and began looking through the books piled in disarray on his floor-to-ceiling shelves. He plucked out a few from the floor, one or two from under his desk. He shoved aside a large pile of exam papers to make room for them. He opened one book and put it away. He opened another and, with an irritated grunt, tossed it aside. He picked up a third. A leather-bound book titled Ancient Civilizations: Archeological Dig Data. “This is a chronicle of who did what and where,” Julian said. A cloud of dust rose from the book as he set it on the desk. With his palm, he wiped the book clean and sat down with a contented sigh.
Julian laid the book flat on the table. “In ‘35 to ‘38 there were five recorded expeditions. Lets see. Dr. Bernard Baston’s group is listedhere.” He read some more. “Nothing else.” Julian scowled and muttered something Max didn’t catch. Suddenly his face brightened and he dashed out.
“Wha—?” Max began. But he was gone. She got up and stood at the door for a few minutes. Should she go look for him?
She went back into his office. Such a cozy space—filled to the brim with musty books, the aroma of fresh coffee still in the air. Through an open window, she could hear the pleasant murmur of passing students on the street a couple floors below. With a sigh, Max returned to her chair. The headrest popped up. Perfect. She let her head fall back.
“Maxine Rosen,” a voice called.
She jumped up, disoriented for a second or two. She had fallen asleep! How awful. She turned. Julian was at the door, holding the doorway with his hands, leaning in. A rascally grin played on his lips.
Max felt moistness on her chin. Drool! She turned away and wiped her mouth with the back of her palm. She should tell him how she had been up curled up in a ball all night trying to be brave. She should tell him everything she had been through the night before. She wanted desperately to prove to him that she wasn’t the sleepy oaf she appeared to be.
She turned back to face him with a forced smile and was about to pick up her bag when Julian took her hand in a firm grip. “I think I may have found something,” he whispered.
They went back to the library area. Julian opened the door to a room at the back of the library with a brass plaque labeled Microfilm Area . It was air-conditioned as cold as a winter day in Greenland, Max thought.
“There’s a book,” Julian said. “People laughed at it when it was released. It has been out of print for years. We had one copy but it’s long lost.” He pulled out a chair in front of a microfilm viewer. “Luckily, it’s here. Look at the screen.”
Magnified on the screen in front of her was a yellowing sheet of
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