Read In the Land of Armadillos for Free Online Page B

“Everywhere,” he said. “It’s like a game. It starts like this. You see the paintbrushes, right? Look at them, all clustered together in that vase. What if the brushes were alive? What sound would they make, rubbing up against each other? What if they could talk? What would they say to one another? Would they have an ongoing feud with the paint about who is the most important? What would they think of the current political situation? You get the idea.”
    Max shook his head in wonder. No, he did not get the idea. His mind didn’t work that way. In his brain, every word, every thought, every action, had a slot, like a well-organized toolbox, where he stored them until they were needed.
    â€œBut how do you do it? I can’t draw anything, not even a straight line.”
    â€œI don’t know. A picture appears in my head, and my fingers do the rest.” Wearily, Toby rubbed at a place under his eye. Max could tell he was tired. The pouches were more bruised-looking than usual. “Sorry, it’s late,” he said. “Anything else?”
    â€œListen,” Max said, coming to the second part of his plan. “I met an old friend of yours.” A more observant man would have seen Toby turn pale, but rapt with enthusiasm, he plunged on. “Bianca Rozycki,” he said, wagging a naughty-naughty finger at him. “You didn’t tell me how pretty she is!”
    â€œShe’s not in any trouble, is she?” There was a queasy tremor of fear in Toby’s voice.
    â€œOh, no, not at all. She looks very well. She didn’t want me to tell you I’d seen her. Probably didn’t want you to worry. Now, Toby,” he went on earnestly, “she did tell me one thing that was useful. You have a sister.”
    Toby bleached a deathly white. The hand holding the cigarette began to shake.
    Max leaned forward. “It’s all right, Toby. Trust me. I want to be your friend. Just tell me where she is. Maybe I can help her, too.”
    On his chair in the middle of the room, Toby hunched his shoulders closer together, as if in defense from imminent attack. Max thought he understood. “I know. When you look at me, maybe all you see is this uniform. I am an officer of the German Reich, yes, I do my job very well, yes, but inside the uniform, I am also a man. I know what it is to worry about someone you love. Come on, Toby. Let me help you. At least give me an idea.”
    â€œI can’t. I mean, I don’t know where she is.” The long sensitive fingers had a life of their own, creeping across his forehead. “She was in a hiding place on the other side of town. For a while, I was getting regular messages from her. She was hungry, she was bored, could I bring her some movie magazines . . . a few weeks ago, they stopped. I went to the house, but it was empty. It looked like it had been ransacked. A neighbor told me there had been Jews hiding there, but someone gave them away. When they tried to escape into the forest, they were caught. I haven’t heard from her since.” His hands were trembling so much, he spilled ash over his pants. He brushed at it with fumbling fingers. Absently, like a worried mother. “Silly girl . . . the last time I saw her, she wasn’t even dressed properly for winter . . . I had to give her my coat.”
    Max had a bad feeling about this. “When was this, exactly?”
    â€œIt would have been around the time I came to work for you.”
    Something’s come up. We caught a group of Jews in the forest outside of town, and I need you to take over. A small job. Twenty-three. They must have been hiding out somewhere. Two dark-haired girls at the far end of the line, fourteen or fifteen, clasping each other for support. The celebrated artist and writer Tobias Rey, on a day so cold that the branches outside his window were jacketed in ice, showing up to his first interview without