Page 42 of One Last Step

We have among our sympathizers several council members from Bern and Fribourg and the Mayor of Zurich.They are quite skittish and prefer to remain in the background for now.Perhaps this is not the best example of Swiss bravery, but considering that we sit on the border of a nation that will once more become the host of the deadliest campaigns of the war before too long, I am confident that we can use fear to pressure them into going public with their support.Raising an army to support the Fuhrer is probably a pipe dream, but we can aid in the information war, and we can probably convince the more rural cantons to allow quarter for the Fuhrer's armies when he readies his push into France to counter the Allied advance.There is much work to be done still, but I am confident it can be accomplished.Until then, Heil Hitler.

Adrien Rousseau.

I gasp when I read that.Rousseau.So that is why Elena is so worried.Her family were not simply facilitators of communication between Nazi sympathizers.They were Nazi sympathizers themselves.No, they were active Nazis.

That is why she's worried about the family's reputation.If word got out that the Rousseaus were a family of Nazis, then they would immediately become a pariah.It wouldn't matter that for three centuries, they were among the premier clockmaking families of Geneva.They would immediately be remembered only as Nazis.

That could explain Mossad’s interest.It’s not just that Nazi memorabilia is showing up on the black market.It’s possible that the descendants of Nazis are profiting from it.

The other letters are equally damning.In one of them, Adrien calls for an attack on the hospital in Geneva and suggests they blame it on the Allies to stir up anti-Allied sentiment.There are photographs, too, of statesmen that Adrien wishes to assassinate.This was not sympathizing.This was underground warfare.

Why would Elena keep these?If I had proof that one of my ancestors was a Nazi, I would burn that proof and destroy any records of their involvement.Hell, I would change my name.

So why doesn’t she distance herself?I could understand keeping the name and associating it with the great clockmakers of the past, but why keep memories of her family’s involvement with the Third Reich?

Unless…

I hate to think it, but I don’t know what else to think.Could it be possible that Elena is the one selling the memorabilia?I hate to think it, but it’s the only answer I can come up with.

But money is a powerful motivator, one for which people will excuse many wrongs.The museum is busy, but that doesn't mean there aren't debts I don't know about.Maybe she's doing her best to stay afloat, but she needs the money to keep the doors open.

Either way, it confirms the opposite of what I hope for.Elenaisa criminal.

Oh, poor Sophie.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

I hear voices outside and stiffen.I start to put the letters and photographs away, but then I stop.What is my plan next?To go to Moreau?To go to Claudia?Moreau seemed to be quite fond of Elena, and he might try to cover this up, but then, he might also be appalled and consider it his duty to bring her in.Claudia wouldn’t hesitate.She’s already decided that if people are hurt, then so be it.She’s not wrong, but as I hear Sophie laughing and playing with her grandmother, my heart breaks.

I need to give her a chance to explain herself.I’m confident that I won’t risk my job if I confront her.After all, I can always threaten to expose her.I hope it won’t come to that, but no matter what the consequences, I at least have to give her a chance to tell me something that will ease my worries.Maybe there’s a good reason that I’m not thinking about why she would keep these.

So, instead of leaving, I take a deep breath, stand behind the bed with the clock and its hidden artifacts spread out on the mattress, face the door, and wait for the confrontation.

“I’ll let you have three hours,” Elena says.“Then it’s time for bed.You have school tomorrow, and I don’t want Mary complaining to me that you were falling asleep all day.”

I don’t hear Sophie’s response, but whatever she says makes Elena laugh.“All right then.Have fun throwing turtle shells at people.”

She opens the door and steps into the room.She’s smiling and shaking her head, so she doesn’t notice me until after the door closes behind her.Then she lifts her head.

She freezes, all blood and all emotion draining from her face.Her eyes fall to the clock on the bed, and she begins to shiver uncontrollably.

“I haven’t told anyone about this,” I tell her.

“Do you plan to?”she asks.

“I’m not sure,” I reply honestly.“But you and I need to have a talk.”

Her face snaps up to mine.Her lips are trembling now, and her tone is almost petulant when she says, “Why?Why is this any of your business?”

“Sophie is my business,” I reply.“You are an excellent grandmother, and it’s very clear that you love her dearly.I would hate to see you lose her because of mistakes others have made.I would hate even more to see you lose her because of mistakes you’ve made.”

She swallows.“Is that a threat?”

“No.Not at all.I don’t want anything from you but the truth and an explanation.Then we can talk about what to do next.”

Elena sits on the edge of the bed.Her eyes never leave the letters and photographs.She reaches a trembling head forward and picks up one of the photographs depicting a young man of around twenty with blonde hair and blue eyes.The man is smiling and wearing the traditional outfit of shorts with suspenders and a checkered shirt.

She swallows and says in a tremulous voice.“This is my grandfather.Adrien Rousseau.If you’ve read the letters, then you know by now that he was a Nazi sympathizer.”

---