Mitch drove past the austere buildings of the Holocaust Memorial Museum. Out the front, a bus pulled up and tourists piled out. He indicated and turned left into D Street and pulled his black Audi into the parking station.
“Mind if I stay in the car?” Nick said, tapping his fingers on the armrest between them.
Mitch looked over at him. “Why, what’s wrong?”
Nick sighed. “Nothing.” He opened the car door and got out. Mitch did the same and locked up.
“Are you serious?” Mitch asked falling into stride beside him as they left the parking station.
“No, yes … this place freaks me out.” Nick looked around uncomfortably.
“We’re not even inside yet. You should have said, you could have partnered Ellie or Adam.”
“What? And missed out on the chance to spend some quality time together?” Nick said.
Mitch grinned. “Yeah, figured you’ve been missing me, given you and Sam spent so much time together last case.”
“Alas poor Samantha, I knew her, Horatio.” Nick shook his head.
Mitch grimaced. “I still believe it’s the right thing, she was out of control and—”
“Don’t start, she had to go,” Nick agreed before Mitch began his guilt trip on moving agent Samantha Moore out of his team.
“Yeah, she had to go.” He self-consciously rubbed his arm where a burn, now healed, had been as a result of Samantha’s maverick behavior.
The two men entered the museum. The same height but mirror opposites—Mitch dark hair with blue eyes to Nick’s blond appearance and green eyes—they looked out of place in their suits amongst the museum-goers.
Mitch went to the information desk while Nick stood against a wall out of the way of a tour group heading to the museum lifts. Mitch waited until he had the receptionist’s attention. She was a well-groomed, middle-aged woman in a black suit with a sensible haircut.
“Mitchell Parker and Nick Everett to see Hanna Berkman please,” he announced.
She nodded, scribbled down the names and picked up the phone handset.
Mitch stood back and waited. Hanging up she caught his attention as a continuous flow of people gathered around her desk taking the information sheets. “She’ll be with you in a moment Mr. Parker, if you care to take a seat.” She pointed to a bench seat against the side wall.
“Thank you.” Mitch nodded and moved to join Nick. “Been here?”
“Yeah, we had the tour when we were recruits,” Nick said.
“Oh yeah, I forgot that they still do that,” Mitch said, having gone through the training a few years before Nick.
Mitch saw a slim woman in her late-fifties, or possibly early-sixties, approach him. He stood up and introduced himself and Nick.
“Come through to the exhibition room and I’ll tell you what I know,” Hanna Berkman said.
Mitch summed her up as he followed. She looked kind, but in-charge, sensible and knowledgeable.
The two men followed her through the crowd and into a special room that was sealed off from the public.
Hanna turned to face the men. “Benjamin Hoefer’s exhibition of his book and special artifacts was due to open today. Last night was the launch and that is when the incident took place. So as you can understand we’re delaying the opening until we have the all-clear from either yourselves or the police that there’s no evidence in the room that will be destroyed,” she said.
Mitch and Nick moved further into the room as Hanna closed and locked the door behind them.
“This exhibition tells the story of the last evacuees from Auschwitz from January 17 to 21,” Hanna explained as Mitch and Nick looked at the images and displays. “The Germans marched more than fifty-six thousand prisoners out of Auschwitz and its sub-camps. Many of them had survived the camp but would die on the march, just before liberation. They marched them in columns in bitterly cold conditions with little or no water, food or rest. Those that were too weak to continue were shot along the way.”
Mitch nodded, listening. “Death marches.”
“Yes, that’s what they were,” Hanna agreed.
“Why did they evacuate them then?” Nick asked.
“The German military force was collapsing, the Allies were closing in—the Soviets from the east, and the British, French, and Americans from the west. They began to panic, to move prisoners out of the camps near the front,” she said. “Benjamin Hoefer’s memoir begins here because it is when his father returns home to him. His father survives the death march. In his book, Benjamin does go back into the past to tell his father’s story of his time in Auschwitz, but the most moving image is this one.” She pointed to a large black and white photo featuring a long line of people being marched out of the camp by the Germans. Close up in the right hand side of the shot was a number of prisoners standing near the gate. One man was circled; Benjamin’s father.
“And the film reel that is shown is the film footage of this shot?” Mitch asked.
“Exactly,” Hanna said. “But the next frame has been desecrated. We were mortified, as you can image. Would you like to see it?”
“Yes, please,” Mitch said.
Hanna went to a wall phone, pressed an extension and requested that the film be shown. Within a few minutes the footage flickered on the same blank wall as on the night before.
Mitch and Nick watched the railway scene then the next frames as the prisoners were herded out of the Auschwitz gates bearing the words “work will set us free.” Eventually, the film flickered and disappeared before the message appeared in large red handwriting … Nazi, Jew hater, fake! A few seconds later, the film frame went to white, then crackled and stopped.
Hanna turned to Mitch and Nick.
“Can Nick speak with the projectionist?” Mitch asked.
“Of course,” Hanna said. Again she went to the phone and within moments a small door opened at the back of the room and a young man appeared. He beckoned Nick to enter the projection room.
“I have some routine questions if I may?” Mitch began.
“Of course, Mr. Parker, let’s sit.” Hanna moved to a bench seat in the corner.
“Mitch, please.” Mitch sat and leaned forward, his hands clasped. “Why?”
“Yes, I’ve been wondering that as well. This is the first time we have had anything of this kind happen here.” She sighed. “I’ve read Benjamin’s book; it’s an important work for Jewish history.”
“Have you or the museum been threatened?” Mitch asked.
“Not at all.”
“Do you know of any party—a group, an individual, who would have cause to do this?”
“There’s always someone who thinks the Holocaust was a Jewish invention or thinks we should forget about it.”
“But this is personal,” Mitch said.
“Yes, so it would seem. This is the first time I’ve met Benjamin, so I can’t claim to have an inside knowledge of his life or that of his father, but we’ve never had anything like this happen before and we’ve had many themed exhibitions, book launches and speakers from survivors and descendents.”
“How would someone get access to that film to put that last frame in?” Mitch continued.
“They would have to have a security key to get up to the projection room. We’ve run our CCTV footage and our computer checks. We can’t find anything. And no, we don’t believe anyone on staff did it.”
Mitch frowned. “I assume the film was viewed and run to the end before being shown publicly?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Hanna said.
“It didn’t arrive with the last frame already on it?”
“I see. No, we had a run-through before the launch. It wasn’t there then.”
“Right. Tell me about the strange screenings at all hours,” Mitch said.
“Well Mitch, I’m not one for ghost stories, but the security guard reported on three consecutive nights that the film started by itself and froze on that last frame. The first night it was at ten p.m., the second night at eleven p.m. and last night at midnight. He went upstairs to see who was in the projection room, and there was no one there. I mean obviously there was someone, someone had to start the film, but he hasn’t caught anyone.”
“Any significance with the timing?”
“Not that I’ve worked out yet,” Hanna said.
“Is it film or on computer? Could someone log in or set it on a timer for it to start and finish?” Mitch asked.
Hanna considered the question. “It is film, but best you ask the projectionist that sort of question.”
Mitch nodded. “Thank you. I’ll come back to you if we have any further questions.” He rose.
Hanna stood. “This is an amazing exhibition,” she said. “A dignified and honorable exhibition and I want it to be seen and remembered as such. While I would love big numbers through the door, I don’t want a ghost story attracting people here.”
“I understand,” Mitch said.
Nick re-entered the room through the same door.
“Well, thank you for your time,” Mitch said.
Hanna pulled a business card from her pocket. “No doubt you’ll have more questions,” she said. “It would be lovely if we could open the exhibition tomorrow…”
“I don’t think we are going to need to seal the room, but I’ll get back to you today on that one.” Mitch followed her out of the room. On the way to the car he turned to Nick. “What did the projectionist say?”
“What didn’t he say!” Nick lit a cigarette as they walked to the car. “Ronald, Ron to his friends, is a little excited about the history of film and assumed I would be too. In a nutshell, the writing definitely wasn’t on the film when it was delivered to the museum. Someone has put it on since. Only Ron, the cleaner and Hanna have access to the projection room as far as he knows and as we saw, it can’t be entered without a key. There is a part-time projectionist but he only works on-call if Ron is unavailable. He’s a college kid and doesn’t have access; the security officer lets him in and out.”
“Did he say if it was film, disc or CD? Could it start on a timer?” Mitch asked.
Nick shook his head. “It’s a reel of film and has to be laced onto the projector to start.”
They arrived at the car and Nick stubbed the remains of his cigarette out.
“Prints?” Mitch asked.
“Worth a try, given only Ron has, in theory, handled the film.”
Mitch unlocked the car and dialed John as they pulled out of the parking lot.