Page 86 of The Little Liar

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Still working at the diner?”

“I have a new job.”

“Where?”

“At a movie studio.”

“Wow. Is it going well?”

“Yes. Have you spoken with Tia?”

“Not since I got here. It’s expensive. The phone calls. And the time difference.”

“You should call her. Tell her you are all right.”

“I will.”

“Thank you.”

“Fannie. Listen. What if, after this was finished, I came to visit you? I’ve never been to California. I don’t know when I’ll be this close.”

“Washington isn’t close to California.”

“Yes. I know. But. You know.”

“Yes.”

“So, yes?”

A pause.

“No.”

Udo confronted his past.

There was no denying it now. They were on to him. Although he had returned to Washington, D.C., and resumed his charade—grilled steaks on the barbecue, had drinks with his wife and neighbors—something had changed. His past was not as buried as he believed. The Brother and his screaming Jewish mouth had proved it.

Udo was now on alert. The soldier inside him had been activated.

In the weeks that followed the Chicago rally, he’d made secret calls to two former SS officers who were also living in America, one in Maryland, the other in Florida. He asked if they knew of this Jew named Sebastian Krispis. Neither did. But they had ways of looking into him. Both, however, expressed surprise that Udo would have gone to that rally in the first place.

“What were you thinking?” one of them asked.

“I wanted to see if they were ready.”

“They are not us, Udo. They mimic, but they lack conviction.”

“They need our leadership.”

“Agreed. But on our terms. Not in some circus parade for newspaper reporters. That is not how we do things.”

“Agreed.”

“Udo?”