Chapter Thirty-One

THE INSTITUTE, NOVEMBER 1975

HE HASNT COME FOR THREE DAYS NOW. I AM GOING CRAZY with worry, imagining all sorts of scenarios involving my parents. Desperation has driven me to prayer. If there’s any chance that someone up there can hear me, I have to try. I hope with all my heart that they give him what he wants, and he doesn’t hurt them. But I don’t really believe that’s possible. I think of a story my mother used to tell me when I was a little girl. It was about three men in Babylon who refused to worship a gold image made by the king because they would worship only their god. They were thrown into a fiery furnace so hot that it burned even the soldiers who threw them in. The next morning, the men were all still alive, not a hair on their heads singed. The king was astounded, promoted them to better jobs, and ordered everyone in the land to worship their god. I remember asking my mother why they didn’t just pretend to worship the image, just say something to save themselves. She told me that true faith requires sacrifice, and that to love our lives more than we love God is not serving him but ourselves. So I asked if God would always step in and rescue his people like that. She hugged me, put her hand on my face, and said that, no, not always in this life, but yes, always in the next.

My door opens, and it’s him. I hold my breath, dreading what he has to say. His eyes are stormy, and his face looks tense. He slams the door behind him and stares at me.

I stand and put one hand on the table behind me, steeling myself for whatever he is going to say. He just looks at me, until finally I can’t stand it anymore.

“What happened? Did you see my parents? What did you do?”

“Yes, I saw them. You look like your mother.”

“Please!” I shout. “Just tell me. Are they alive?”

“They were when I left them.”

“What do you mean?”

He sits.

“Patience, Maya. I was waiting for them when they returned from church. They’re very polite. When I mentioned I knew you, they let me right in. Gave me coffee and some delicious Greek pastry.” He taps his index finger against his chin. “Thiples, I think they’re called?”

I want to scream. I tap my foot and wait for him to get on with it.

“I told them I’d worked with you here. They’re quite heartbroken that they haven’t heard from you.”

“Stop toying with me.” I can’t stop the tears now.

“Indeed. Well, I got around to the real purpose of my visit. When I asked about the silver pieces, it was obvious by their reactions that they knew exactly what I was talking about.”

I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue.

“Your father was the first to figure out that I wasn’t just someone who knew you. He demanded that I return you to them. He’s a brave man.”

“You’re loathsome.”

His eyes narrow. “Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

“Go on.”

“I promised I would let you go if they told me where they hid the coins. Even told them they have a grandchild on the way. That garnered a mixed reaction.” He looks at me with a triumphant expression. “You should have believed me when I told you they didn’t really love you.” He pauses for effect. “They said no.”

All the breath whooshes from me.

“They said no?” I whisper.

“Oh, they blabbered on, said how much they loved you, but they had a sacred trust in guarding the coins. They couldn’t betray it or betray God. The fools.”

I sit up straighter. “They are not fools. They knew you wouldn’t let me go. You’re the fool if you think you can trick them so easily.” I want to wound his pride, to say anything to wipe that smirk off his face.

He arches an eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll get it out of them. They could have done it the easy way.”

“What are you planning to do?”

He stands. “It’s done. Friedrich’s men are interrogating them. They’re extremely skilled in getting information.”

I clutch my chest as a knifelike pain sears me. “You’re torturing them?”

He tilts his head. “Well, I’m not.”

“You monster!” I pick up the glass pitcher from the table and throw it at him, narrowly missing his head. It crashes to the floor.

He shakes his head, steps over the broken pieces, and opens the door.

“I’ll send someone in to clean this up.” And he leaves.

I walk over to the mess and begin to attend to it myself. Making sure my back is to the camera, I take the largest jagged piece and slide it into my pants pocket.