they begged the Master of the Universe to protect them and their families from the cruelty of the anti-Semitic gentiles. There had been no colors at his childhood synagogue, only black and white. Mostly black. And not much singing either.
He opened a prayer book, but his eyes were misted, blurring the square letters and tiny vowels. And despite decades of loathing God, who had allowed the Nazis to kill his family, Elie’s lips pronounced the words, “ Be’yado afkid ruchi – In His hand I entrust my soul, asleep or awake, God is with me, I have no fear .”
*
The black 1942 Rolls Royce waited at the dock. Günter held the door for his boss. Armande Hoffgeitz kissed Paula on both cheeks, hugged Klaus Junior, and shook Lemmy’s hand. “See you tomorrow at church,” he said before Günter shut the door.
Paula’s Volvo rattled over the cobblestones as it crossed the Limmat River over the General Guisan Quai. Lemmy glanced at his son through the rearview mirror. “Nice sailing, Junior.”
Klaus Junior saluted.
Paula said, “That was a nice initiative, donating those computers.”
In the back seat, the boy asked, “Can I also tell Grandpa about the baby?”
They looked at each other, and Paula said, “What baby?”
“I heard you talking yesterday.”
“There’s no baby,” Lemmy said.
“Not yet.” Paula blushed.
Their home sat on a grassy knoll in the Eierbrecht suburb of Zurich. Armande had bought it for them when Klaus Junior turned two. It had five bedrooms, a swimming pool in the back, and a six-car garage.
As soon as the Volvo stopped, the boy ran to the Porsche. “Papa! Come!”
“I promised him,” Lemmy said. It was a classic 1963 Porsche 356 Speedster in dark blue. The insurance company had recently appraised it at a price equivalent to a modest home in a good neighborhood. Lemmy had bought it two years earlier from the widow of a deceased client. The original engine enjoyed a new life with a set of dual Solex carburetors. It had a new soft top and a powerful Burmester sound system. The elaborate anti-theft alarm had been installed by a Dutch specialist from Amsterdam, an old friend who was also responsible for the security measures surrounding the new computer systems at the Hoffgeitz Bank, as well as the secret video surveillance cameras, which Lemmy alone could access.
He was about to get into the Porsche when Paula gripped his arm, pulled him closer, and kissed him on the lips. “Don’t be long. You have important work to do.”
“On the old lady?”
“ Hey! ”
“I meant her!” He gestured to the back of the garage at his next restoration project. It was an odd looking Citroën, whose Maserati engine was exposed under the missing hood, and whose existence was all but a rumor among a niche of classic cars collectors who referred to her as the Missing Third . Only two known examples existed of the SM Presidential—an extended body version of the Citroën SM, with four-doors and a folding soft top, which Henri Chapron had built for the 1972 official visit of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II—and both were parked safely at the Palais de l’Élysée in Paris. But when Lemmy had visited an African dictator to personally collect a substantial deposit in diamonds, he discovered that the rumor had been true. The Missing Third , a working prototype stolen from Chapron’s workshop and sold to the Francophile predecessor of Lemmy’s client, had been wrecked a decade earlier during the coup d'état that had elevated him to power. Having noticed Lemmy’s interest in the rusting Citroën, the grateful dictator shipped it to Zurich in a wooden crate marked Used Books.”
“You better be in my bedroom in thirty-minutes,” Paula said, “or I’ll find someone else to do the job.”
He got behind the wheel. “I’ll be back!”
The Porsche engine started with a deep gurgling sound, settling into an even rumble. Klaus Junior released a lever above the windshield and pushed the top
He opened a prayer book, but his eyes were misted, blurring the square letters and tiny vowels. And despite decades of loathing God, who had allowed the Nazis to kill his family, Elie’s lips pronounced the words, “ Be’yado afkid ruchi – In His hand I entrust my soul, asleep or awake, God is with me, I have no fear .”
*
The black 1942 Rolls Royce waited at the dock. Günter held the door for his boss. Armande Hoffgeitz kissed Paula on both cheeks, hugged Klaus Junior, and shook Lemmy’s hand. “See you tomorrow at church,” he said before Günter shut the door.
Paula’s Volvo rattled over the cobblestones as it crossed the Limmat River over the General Guisan Quai. Lemmy glanced at his son through the rearview mirror. “Nice sailing, Junior.”
Klaus Junior saluted.
Paula said, “That was a nice initiative, donating those computers.”
In the back seat, the boy asked, “Can I also tell Grandpa about the baby?”
They looked at each other, and Paula said, “What baby?”
“I heard you talking yesterday.”
“There’s no baby,” Lemmy said.
“Not yet.” Paula blushed.
Their home sat on a grassy knoll in the Eierbrecht suburb of Zurich. Armande had bought it for them when Klaus Junior turned two. It had five bedrooms, a swimming pool in the back, and a six-car garage.
As soon as the Volvo stopped, the boy ran to the Porsche. “Papa! Come!”
“I promised him,” Lemmy said. It was a classic 1963 Porsche 356 Speedster in dark blue. The insurance company had recently appraised it at a price equivalent to a modest home in a good neighborhood. Lemmy had bought it two years earlier from the widow of a deceased client. The original engine enjoyed a new life with a set of dual Solex carburetors. It had a new soft top and a powerful Burmester sound system. The elaborate anti-theft alarm had been installed by a Dutch specialist from Amsterdam, an old friend who was also responsible for the security measures surrounding the new computer systems at the Hoffgeitz Bank, as well as the secret video surveillance cameras, which Lemmy alone could access.
He was about to get into the Porsche when Paula gripped his arm, pulled him closer, and kissed him on the lips. “Don’t be long. You have important work to do.”
“On the old lady?”
“ Hey! ”
“I meant her!” He gestured to the back of the garage at his next restoration project. It was an odd looking Citroën, whose Maserati engine was exposed under the missing hood, and whose existence was all but a rumor among a niche of classic cars collectors who referred to her as the Missing Third . Only two known examples existed of the SM Presidential—an extended body version of the Citroën SM, with four-doors and a folding soft top, which Henri Chapron had built for the 1972 official visit of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II—and both were parked safely at the Palais de l’Élysée in Paris. But when Lemmy had visited an African dictator to personally collect a substantial deposit in diamonds, he discovered that the rumor had been true. The Missing Third , a working prototype stolen from Chapron’s workshop and sold to the Francophile predecessor of Lemmy’s client, had been wrecked a decade earlier during the coup d'état that had elevated him to power. Having noticed Lemmy’s interest in the rusting Citroën, the grateful dictator shipped it to Zurich in a wooden crate marked Used Books.”
“You better be in my bedroom in thirty-minutes,” Paula said, “or I’ll find someone else to do the job.”
He got behind the wheel. “I’ll be back!”
The Porsche engine started with a deep gurgling sound, settling into an even rumble. Klaus Junior released a lever above the windshield and pushed the top
Similar Books
