Chapter 11 The Crimes of Etzhill Cohen
After a period of confusion, Noah Freeman finally woke up.The scene in front of him made him confused: the chaotic traffic, the muddy Tiber River, the Via Veneto in "La Dolce Vita", the Trevi Fountain that often appears in Hollywood movies, the sanctuary in "Tosca". Fort Angel.This is Rome.
"Rome?" Dad asked in surprise before coming, "Why did you go to Rome? A foreign country, so far away."
indeed.But for Papa Freeman, Rockland County, an hour from New York, was a faraway place, and he counted a two-week trip there every summer as an adventure.But in fact, Dad wasn't too surprised to hear that his son was going to travel so far.After all, the son was supposed to be a doctor—or at least a teacher—and turned out to be a policeman.
"There's a cop in the house," Dad would say from time to time. "There's a cop in the house with a gun, like in the TV shows, and he's my own son. What would your mother say if she knew about it?" , can she still rest in peace?"
But there is one thing Noah has to admit. This old guy is right about one thing. Rome is indeed far away. This distance is not only reflected in the distance from New York, but also in the gap between reality and imagination.When Noah Freeman was a student, he was once immersed in literary works related to Spartacus, Caesar and Nero, but the Rome in front of him was not the same as the pulse-pounding city he imagined in his mind at that time. Cities are far apart.For example, this small family hotel named Elfila, hidden deep in the alley and next to the Aaron Lula Hotel, does not arouse any enthusiasm.Legend has it that American tourists who visit Rome by chance will encounter some bad luck. For Noah, this bad luck is to catch a taxi by Mrs. Elfila's brother-in-law at Fiumicino Airport.
At the El Fira Family Hotel, Noah had to stay awake all the time.The prices are cheap, but the food is bland, the service unwelcome and the plumbing moody.There were other tenants: it was only the beginning of March, and the old people living in the Italian countryside seemed to have made an appointment, and all of them came to Rome with sad eyes to visit their dying friends.Except for the hostess Mrs. Elfila and the girl sitting at the front desk, almost no one here can speak English, so the communication between Noah and other tenants is limited to nodding and shrugging. There is no problem in understanding, but it cannot resolve loneliness. .
Worth mentioning is the girl sitting at the front desk.She was tall, elegant, and one of the truly beautiful women Noah met in Rome.Most of the Roman women are disillusioned, and you will know that they are completely different from the ones in Italian movies.She sat behind that desk from early morning until late at night, lost in her own sad world.She is courteous and polite, but indifferent and reserved, rejecting others thousands of miles away.
It seemed inevitable that Noah would be attracted to her.She spoke English with almost no accent, and that pure British English even made him suspect that she was originally an Englishman living on the coast of Rome.And that beautiful gold shield of David necklace, the Star of David, around her neck made it unmistakable that she was Jewish.Noah was taken aback at first sight of the small, familiar charm, but then made a bold, friendly first move.
"I'm Jewish too," he asked with a smile, "I don't know—" But she interrupted him politely and coldly. "There's a synagogue over there at the Rome Synagogue Museum, just a few blocks south. One of the landmarks in Rome, very interesting, really"—that's enough to drive him away.
After this conversation, Noah had no choice but to regretfully give up the idea of making friends with her, and started a lonely sightseeing trip as if completing a mission.With a Rome travel guide in hand and Everyday Italian in his pocket, he tried to get excited about the beauty of the road, but the result was disappointing.Part of the blame can be blamed on the weather—wet, gray March, with clouds overhead that never seemed to go away.As for the other part of the reason, he knew very well that it was because of loneliness - which made him extremely envious of the tour groups everywhere, although they were guarded by busy guides, they could at least have a pleasant chat with their companions.
But most of all—he had to force himself to remember this—he wasn't a tourist, he had escaped here.He wants to escape from Detective Noah Freeman, but unfortunately, he has been with him and will continue to do so.Standing among a group of round-bellied, arrogantly complacent retired businessmen, looking foolishly up at the cupola of St. Peter's Basilica, only made him understand one thing: Noah Freeman shouldn't be like this.
It may be that Mrs. Elfila—hidden on her chubby face with bright eyes that seem to be able to read people's hearts—perceived his thoughts and decided to do something for him with the brilliance of motherhood.It may also be pure curiosity after learning about his occupation.Whatever the reason, Noah was grateful that this morning, when he was eating the same breakfast every day—hard rolls, cold coffee, and tasteless marmalade—she came and sat at his table, Explaining that she had only seen American Detective in movies, and this was the first time she had met him in real life.How interesting.Is life in America the same as in the movies?Shooting, beatings and danger everywhere?Has he ever been shot?Injured perhaps?What a life!Just thinking about it made her feel cold.
Elfila's bloated figure, scruffy skirt, and tattered slippers don't look very appealing; but she's at least someone to talk to.So they spent a long time at breakfast solving the problems of life in America.Before leaving the table, Noah asked her about the girl sitting at the front desk.Is she Italian?It doesn't feel like hearing her speak English.
"Rosanna?" said Alfila. "Oh, of course, she's Italian. But when she was very young—you know, when the Germans were still here—she was sent to England and lived there. For years. Italian, but Jewish. Jew, poor little thing."
The sympathy in the hostess' tone was painful. "Me too." Noah said.
"Well, she told me." Alfila added, and he found that the sympathy in her tone was not limited to Jewish women.Plus, he was warmed to learn that that inaccessible pretty girl, Roseanne, was at least starting to pay attention to him.
"Why is she so sad?" he asked. "It's been a long time since the war."
"Yes, it's been a while. But her people still won't forgive what her father did during the German occupation. There were rebels here, you know, partisans. Her father sold them to the Germans, That's what people say anyway. Now people hate her and her brother because they're the children of traitors."
"That's what people say anyway. What does it mean? Didn't her father be wronged?"
"She did say they wronged her father. But understandably, he was like a saint to her. She was proud of being brave, yes, but even the bravest man would back down when facing the Germans. Oh, Look who I'm talking about! He's the doctor who saved our mother and son's life when my oldest son was born. That's why when his daughter needed a job, I decided to use it as an opportunity to pay off my debts. And it's very easy to do. It’s worth it. She’s honest, hard-working, and can speak foreign languages, and that’s all I got for a little bit of kindness.”
"What about her brother? Is it around here too?"
"You see him every day. It's George. You know George, don't you?"
"The cleaner?"
"He can clean and carry and get himself drunk all the time, that's George. To be honest, he's useless, but what can I do? For the girl's sake, I'll do my best." Help him. See the trouble that kindness causes? I try to pay my debts and I get so dirty I can't get rid of it. When I really need him, he's always drunk somewhere. And he has a bad temper Cranky, like his father in that, but at least she's good at medicine. As for the girl, she's an angel, but too sad. And loneliness, you know, loneliness kills." The hostess leaned forward curiously. With her plump breasts leaning against the edge of the table, she said, "Maybe, you can try to chat with her—"
"I tried." Noah said, "but she doesn't seem very interested."
"Because you're a stranger. But I saw her stare at you when you passed, and if you consider us friends, the three of us will have dinner tonight—"
The hostess, Elfila, is someone who can do whatever she wants.That night, the three of us really had dinner together, but the atmosphere was tense and awkward, and the conversation was limited to Noah answering one question after another from the hostess.Roseanne sat quietly aside, keeping a certain distance from him.
When it was time to serve fruit and cheese, the hostess got up suddenly, smiled and left, her intentions couldn't be more obvious.Noah said to the girl with some dissatisfaction: "I'm sorry, I hope you know that this little party is not my suggestion, but Madam's idea."
"I know."
"Then why are you so cold to me?"
Roseanne's mouth parted slightly in surprise. "Apathy? I didn't mean to—trust me, it's not your fault."
"Whose fault is that? Your father?" Noah knew from her reaction that he was right, so he said, "I heard."
"What did you hear?"
"A part, I think you can tell me the whole thing. Or, do you enjoy the feeling of having a stick in your throat more? Which do you prefer?"
"Your take on the word 'enjoy' is really unique. If you want to hear the story, go to a synagogue, the ghetto or Catalina. There, you hear the details of the story right away, and everyone knows it. "
"I might go, but before I do that, I want to get your opinion."
"Standing for a policeman? You're late, Mr. Freeman. The trial of Etzhill Cohen was settled without a policeman and without a jury."
"What crime?"
"That he betrayed the leader of the Resistance. It's nonsense. But the guerrillas shot him anyway and left him in the wilderness with the word 'traitor' etched on him. Yes, Mr. Freeman, always on the kids Ezehiel Cohen, who taught us that credit is the most valuable virtue of mankind, died in infamy. He lay for a long time in the mud in front of Piazza Marcello, because our people—Jews— They refused to bury him. Even now they think of him and still spit on the ground, I know all of this." The girl said with a bit of anger, "Because they will think of him when they see me walking by."
"Then why are you still here?"
"Because he is here. This is the resting place of his tainted past - his soul - and I am here waiting for the truth to be revealed."
"Twenty years after the incident?"
"Twenty years, or a hundred years, or a thousand years. Does the truth change over time, Mr. Freeman? Don't you think it is as important to be treated fairly after death as to be freed from stigma during life?"
"Possibly. But how do you know the case was decided unfairly? Is there any evidence to the contrary? You were only a child when it happened, weren't you?"
"And it wasn't in Rome. I was in England, staying at the house of my father's student friend - who was also a doctor. Yes, England is thousands of miles away from Rome, and I was a child, but I knew my father."
Can Faith Really Move Mountains?Noah pondered. "What does your brother think? Does he think so too?"
"George tries to ignore it. When he was a kid, everyone said that one day he would be a good doctor like his father. Now he's just a drunk. A bottle of wine eases the grief."
"Does he mind if I talk to him about that?"
"Why are you doing this? Is there anything to do with Ezehiel Cohen? Or is Rome so boring that you want to pass the time by playing detective games? I don't understand, Mr. Freeman."
"Indeed, you don't understand," Noah said rudely, "but if you listen to what I'm about to tell you, you'll understand. You know how an ordinary, salaried little policeman like me can Will there be time and money to travel here? Well, I was one of a bunch of New York cops accused of taking bribes from gamblers last year. I had nothing to do with that shit, but I was also suspended, etc. They found time to process it and I was sent to court. I was eventually found not guilty, all previous charges were dropped and I was reinstated. Looks good, you think so, right?"
"Because you got a fair trial," Roseanne said.
"A court trial. Just a court trial. After this incident, I found no one around me who believed in my innocence. No one. Even my biological father was suspicious from time to time. And once I returned to the force, the people who actually took bribes People see me as one of a kind and honest people don't trust me anymore. That's why I'm here. I don't know if I should go back, I need time to think, I need to get away from everyone for a while. I do get a fair trial , but you tell me, what good is it?"
The girl shook her head sadly. "So, it's not just my father who was wronged, right? But, Mr. Freeman, you can fight for your own honor. Tell me, how did my father fight?"
This question has been lingering in Noah's mind afterwards, making him angry and challenging him.He tried to put it aside and focus on his immediate problem, but couldn't.This question prompted him to change his sightseeing route the next morning, instead heading south along the Tiber River instead of visiting the few ruins and monuments printed in italics in travel brochures.
The sky above the head was gloomy, and the river water blocked by the stone embankment was turbid and dark brown, flowing slowly and lifelessly. Even so, Noah felt that this scene made him more and more excited.In the past few days he had seen all the beauty, dead bricks, marbles, Latin inscriptions, famous paintings and sculptures that were not worthy of their names.He longed to connect with people, and now he finally had enough reason to talk to people, and he felt that this was the most energetic day he had been in Rome.In fact, it was more dynamic than spending the past few months in New York, hanging around my father at the tailor's shop.He knew that the slightest effort to re-investigate the Etzhill Cohen case would do nothing but bring back old, bitter memories.But most importantly, it made him feel like the old Noah Freeman again, alive and capable of something.
Construction work continues around the synagogue-museum in Rome, with new towers soaring above the centuries-old dilapidated slums.In the middle of the Tiber River there is a long and narrow island on which several government buildings stand.Standing on the river bank, you can see the synagogue - a row of magnificent Romanesque marble buildings.
A young man leans comfortably against the fence in front of the synagogue.Despite the cold, he was only wearing a shirt, with his muscular black arms folded in front of his chest, as if he could see through people's hearts, he stared at Noah who was slowly approaching, with excitement shining in his eyes.When Noah passed by him, the man took the initiative to say hello.
"Peace be with you."
"May you be safe." Noah replied.The young man's face brightened instantly, and at the same time, he took out a stack of postcards like magic.
"Postcards, would you like? Showing a different Roman look. There are synagogues, both inside and out. You're an American Jew, aren't you? My countryman?"
"Yes." Noah replied, wondering if only American Jews would take this route, "But put away those postcards of yours, I don't need them."
"How about a travel guide? The best. Or do you need a guide? Ghetto, Tiber Island, Piazza Marcello, I'll take you wherever you want. Only two thousand lire. You can ask, For two thousand lire, you can't get a better guide than Carlo Piperno, and that's me."
"My name is Noah Freeman. I just want to go somewhere, find the rabbi, is he in the synagogue?"
"No, but I can take you to his house, and then we'll go to the Ghetto, Tiber Island—"
The rabbi was friendly and quickly understood Noah's purpose, but he explained in precise English that he could give an objective evaluation of the Ezehir Cohen case because he was not a Roman.He was from Milan, so he was an outsider, but he could still deeply understand the strong hatred of traitors among the congregation.It is very sad that such a situation has been caused, but this cannot be blamed on the congregation. If the evil history repeats itself, isn't this the most powerful warning to the traitors?
"He's been dead for so long," Noah said.
"It's the same as those who were betrayed by him. Those people are even worse." The rabbi pointed to the window with the shutters drawn, and the Tiber River was outside the window. On the other side of the Tiber there were workers and priests who helped us when we needed a place to hide. Ezekiel Cohen's daughter didn't tell you how they risked their lives when she was a child, Sent her out of town overnight in a cask wagon? Did she think her father could be easily forgiven for repaying them in that way?"
"But why target her?" Noah retorted, "Why did your congregation expel her? She and her brother are innocent. Do you believe that the sins of the parents will be passed on to the children?"
The rabbi shook his head. "As long as something evil happens, Mr. Freeman, the fear it creates will last for generations until it finally disappears. I welcome that girl to the synagogue, but I can't take away the people's fear. Even if I wanted so badly, Such a miracle cannot be realized.
"Not so long ago, Judaism was very prosperous here, with a large number of followers. This sect is almost as old as the city of Rome, sir. But do you know how many of these followers are left today? Only a few. A few will never be forgotten The people of the past. The Jews in the city of Rome are not so easily forgotten. To this day, they still curse Titus who burned the Temple in Jerusalem, and at the same time always remember their friend Julius Caesar and mourn him in the square for seven days. And when they forgive Titus, they will forgive Etzhill Cohen and his children, and his children's children. See what I mean, Mr. Freeman?"
"Well," Noah said, "I see."
He left the synagogue and came to the deserted cobbled street, surrounded by ancient buildings oppressing him, leaving him nowhere to escape, and the burden of two thousand years of history weighed relentlessly on his shoulders, even if it rumbled along the embankment The sound of traffic, and the breathtaking scenery, can not relieve the slightest.Carlo Piperno, the postcard vendor, was still waiting.
"Have you met the rabbi? Very well, now let's go to the Tiber Island."
"Don't mention Tiber Island anymore, I want you to take me to another place."
"Give me two thousand lire, and I'll take you anywhere."
"Okay." Noah took out the banknotes from his wallet, "Do you have any impression of the name Etzhill Cohen?"
Carlo Piperno tried his best to hide his surprise, but it was written all over his face.He immediately adjusted his mind. "That person? I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry, he is dead, that person." He pointed to his feet, "If you want to see him, you have to go down."
"I don't want to meet him, I want to meet someone who knows him well. Can tell me what he did, what happened."
"Everybody knows about him. I can tell you."
"No no, I don't want someone who was a kid when it happened. Understand?"
"Understood. But why?"
"To know why, you're going to give me two thousand lire. Want to know?"
"No, no." Carlo stretched out his hand and grabbed the banknote neatly.Then he shrugged. "First the rabbi, and now Ezehir Cohn, who is already in hell. Well, I'm a tour guide, right? So, come with me now."
He led Noah through a labyrinth of alleys, not far from the synagogue, surrounded by the remains of stone walls.Walking out of this area surrounded by stone walls, you will be in a residential area. The paint on the outside has been washed away by the years, revealing the brick walls inside.But the homeowners seem to be very proud of their houses, with potted flowers or green plants placed by almost every window.Along the steps and in the stone yard, housewives can be seen everywhere with brushes and buckets, scrubbing stone or brick walls.The surrounding alleys were crowded with small shops, and there was a bustling noise.
Noah finally recovered from the shock and realized that this was a Jewish ghetto, and he was standing in front of a monument.The word had so far meant nothing but ugly in his world.He knew that the shock came from that wall.There is no door in the wall, but no one is stopping you from climbing over it now, but if it were him, he would rather have the wall knocked down.
Rome is such a weird place.No matter where you go, you will see traces of a brutal history, remembering those who were brutally persecuted.Like this wall, the catacombs, the churches built for the martyrs, the Colosseum - they're everywhere and you have nowhere to run.
Carlo ended up taking him to a butcher's shop—the owner's name, presumably Vito Levy, was based on the name of the shop.The butcher was a stocky, gray-haired man who stood behind a chest-high marble counter, chopping meat and bickering with a gaunt old woman.The old woman's head was wrapped in a shawl, and she was carrying several bags, waiting for her meat.He was still waving a meat knife when Carlo greeted him, and suddenly he dropped the knife on the table and walked around the counter toward Noah, wiping his hands on his apron.The old woman followed, her sharp little eyes sparkling with interest, and at her call, people gathered from all directions in an instant.Ezehiel Cohn has been dead for twenty years, Noah thought, but his name lives on here.
He doesn't mind talking about it in public.As a young patrolman, he had learned from his daily patrols not to easily disperse the crowd of onlookers at the scene of an accident or crime; because there are likely to be people in the crowd who are worth listening to.Now, he was surrounded by lively discussions, and everyone present had something to say about Ezehir Cohen.
Using Carlo's interpreter, he first asked Levi the Butcher, and then talked to everyone who was willing to provide information.Slowly, Ezehill Cohen and the crimes he committed gradually emerged.Levy provides the most important information - when, where and what.
The Butcher knew Ezehir Cohen well, and trusted him as well as everyone else, for no doctor had a better reputation for integrity.He is a great doctor and a man who respects science; he is also a son of God and a devout believer.Every morning he tied the talisman, said the prayers, and every Sabbath he went to the synagogue.In addition to his gentle side, he is also a proud and conceited man who will insult you in front of you if he is dissatisfied.But the most important thing is his honesty, but as the most honest person in the world, it is inevitable that sometimes he is a bit too much.If there's anyone in the world who will never compromise with the truth, it's Etzhill Cohen.You can trust him, but probably not like him because he's so extreme about it.
As a result, this trustworthy person becomes a traitor.After several years, people finally learned to endure Mussolini's rule. However, the German invasion of Rome reawakened the sense of rebellion in that generation.Sabotage and espionage, leaflets secretly printed and distributed among the people, informing the masses of the true intentions of Mussolini and his army.Most gave up, but Vito Levy the Butcher and a small group of others, risking everything, continued to operate undercover.The Jews were deported one after another, and they were transported by truck to the Nazi concentration camps to wait for the slaughter.Was there an alternative to joining the nearby Gentile Rebels?
"You ask him," Noah said to Carlo, "Is Ezehir Cohen a member of the Rebel Army?" As soon as Carlo translated the question, the butcher shook his head.
The doctor came only once, when he was called to treat a patient.Three leaders of the rebels managed to break into Rome from the mountains to provide guidance and help organize the movement.They hid in a cellar on the Tiber, across the river from the Jewish Ghetto, and one of their leaders was badly wounded.The doctor's son, a boy at the time, fifteen at most, was the correspondent of the guerrillas.He brought his father to tend the wounded leader, and it wasn't long before the three were captured by the Germans.They were betrayed by the honest, noble, upright Ezehiel Cohn.
"Ask how he knows," Noah said to Carlo. "He pleaded guilty?"
There was no need for a guilty plea at all, and no proof was required, for he had the briefcase of Major von Grubner in his hand, and that was enough.
Noah cursed the lengthy translation silently.Carlo Piperno enjoys the role of translator very much and tries to make the most of himself.He took great pains to explain who and what Major von Grubner had done.
The army major was the commander of the German armored forces stationed on the Tiber River.But unlike other German officers, von Grubner was as cunning as a fox.While other officers kept their guns in their hands, he carried his briefcase all day, a black leather case with handsome gold ornaments—a double-headed eagle, the symbol of his great family.There was money in the box, rolls of money, packs of lire, all money, and it was obvious at a glance that the total amount was huge.
In all fairness, von Grubner was a man of courage and wisdom.He is always a loner and looks down on those who are constantly accompanied by bodyguards.Holding a box of money in his hand, with a smile on his mouth, he swaggered through the market confidently.
"To put it bluntly," he'd say, "we're all business people, you and me. We're both practical and hate trouble. Get rid of the troublemakers and everything will be fine, right? Oh, I'm here Business people, look at the money, isn’t it beautiful? All you have to do is make an offer and tell me where the troublemakers are, and everyone will be happy. Make an offer, it’s that simple.”
Then he will open the box in front of you, let you see the money, and tell you that the money can be given to you.It's not just money, it's life.You can use this money to buy some life-saving food during a time of scarcity, or you can buy a temporary shelter for your wife and children, so you can live another day safely.That is life.Everyone wants to live, and the hope of living is contained in that little black leather case with the gold double-headed eagle.
But only one succumbs to temptation.The day after the capture of the three partisans, Ezehir Cohn was seen running down the alley with the box like a rabbit being chased by hounds.Only Ezehir Cohn, the pious, noble, proud man succumbed, and soon gave his life for betrayal.
Vito Levy's words needed a translation, not their emotions.And the crowd around Noah all looked at him quietly, and they didn't need to express their feelings in words.But for detective Noah Freeman, this story is not complete enough. Years of experience in handling cases tells him that what most people believe is not necessarily the truth, he needs evidence, and evidence can explain the problem better.
"Ask them," Noah said to Carlo, "who saw Ezehir Cohen holding that box?" As soon as Carlo finished speaking, Levi gave a thumbs up and poked it hard Then he looked around and pointed to a man standing on the periphery of the crowd. The man raised a hand, and a woman standing next to him also raised her hand, and then someone else raised her hand.
Three witnesses, four, five.Enough is enough, Noah wants to ask everyone.It was a bit difficult to complete this. With the help of Carlo, Noah pieced together the whole picture of the matter with one question after another.They all lived on Porch Street, and it was hot that night, too hot to sleep.So they all leaned against the window, so they saw the doctor running down the street towards Piazza Marcello with the suitcase under his arm.Isn't it his medicine chest?No no, it's the one with the golden double-headed eagle.They saw the doctor with blood-stained money, and they were willing to swear on the lives of future generations that they did not lie.
During the lunch break, Noah got Mrs. Elfila's permission and took Rosanna to a coffee shop in Navona Square in the name of going out for a walk.Over a glass of Campari, he told her the results of his investigation.
"Witnesses," she said sharply. "Do you think the witnesses are telling the truth?"
"At least those people are telling the truth. But sometimes things are not what you see, and there's a difference between the truth and what you see."
"So how do you spot the difference?"
"By asking more questions. Like, did your father live in the ghetto?"
"Did live there during the war."
"According to my neighborhood map, Piazza Marcello is outside the ghetto. Why did he run there with the box, wouldn't it be safer to put it home? Even more strange, why didn't he transfer the money to other tools , but to hold the well-known box? Also, why did the person who gave him the money give it along with the box? It should be a personal item. If you look at this matter fairly, you will find that there is Lots of doubts."
"So your idea is..."
"I don't have any ideas. First of all, I want to clarify these problems and find a reasonable solution to this unreasonable incident. There is someone who can help me in this regard."
"Who?"
"Major von Grubner himself."
"But how did you find him? It's been so long since that incident, he may be dead."
"It may not be dead. And as long as he is not dead, there will be a way to find him."
"But this must be very troublesome, and it will take a lot of time and energy."
In Noah's heart, the way she looked at him at this moment was enough to make him willing to spend time and energy.She blushed when their eyes met, showing that she knew what was going on in his mind.
"I'm good at this kind of thing," he said. "Besides, this is probably the last time I'll be able to do it professionally."
"Aren't you ready to go back to the police station? But you're a good detective, really, don't you think?"
"Oh, I'm great, and I'm honest," he said, "even though popular opinion doesn't think so."
"Don't say that," she retorted angrily, "you're being honest, I know."
"Really? Well, then at least we agree on that. Anyway, the most important thing right now is to find out where von Grubner is - if he's still alive. We'll see later. By the way, Do you know the date of the incident? The day someone saw your father with the box."
"Yes. It was July 15th, 1943. There's no way I'd ever forget that date, Mr. Freeman."
"Noah."
"Of course," Roseanne said, "Noah."
After sending her back to the family hotel, Noah went straight to the police headquarters.He used his police officer ID as a pass to pass through the gate, called the gate of the police station, and was finally able to have a private conversation with Superintendent Ponziani.The mild-mannered handsome man was fascinated by Etzhill Cohen's story, and then he raised his eyebrows at Noah comically.
"You're interested in this?"
"It's entirely a personal interest. In fact, I'm not even sure if I have the right to trouble you." Noah shrugged, "But I think coming to the military or government agencies can avoid those procedures..."
The superintendent gestured to ignore the useless military regulations and bureaucratic red tape. "No, no, you're right to be here. We're colleagues, aren't we, sir? We're like brothers, so if you could tell me all about this Army Major von Grubner, I could Get in touch with the Germans, and if they know anything about him, it won't be long before we know."
"Soon" means waiting for several days in succession. Noah can see that Roseanne has been suffering a lot these days.With each passing day, her nervousness increased, and she expected him to give an affirmative answer even more.But how easy is it to find this German?It was thousands of miles away, and he probably hid on purpose so that no one could find him.Even if a miracle happened and they found him, how could they ask him?Would he tell them her father was indeed guilty?
"It's possible," Noah said while holding her hand pitifully, "You have to be mentally prepared for this."
“不会的！不，不会的。”她激动地反驳，接着又没那么确信了，“他有可能撒谎，对不对？你知道的，他确实有可能撒谎。”她的话让诺亚战栗，罗珊娜太紧张了，她紧紧地抓着他的手，就像一个迷路了的孩子——这一切让他不禁怀疑自己试图拯救埃策希尔·科恩灵魂的举动是不是太过分、太冒险了。一旦失败，事态会急转直下。他也好不到哪里去，因为他已带着一半兴奋和一半悲哀的心情意识到，自己已经无可救药地爱上了这个姑娘。而能否赢得芳心似乎完全仰赖他能不能帮她父亲洗清名誉。真的有可能像罗珊娜说的那样，埃策希尔·科恩的灵魂还在台伯河岸边徘徊，等待安息吗？要是这一天永远等不来怎么办？
当艾尔菲拉夫人说有警局打来找他的电话时，诺亚几近虔诚地接过了听筒。
"It's me," he said.
蓬齐亚尼警监言简意赅地说，“哦，弗里曼先生，有关冯·格鲁博纳陆军少校的事越来越奇怪了。你能来我办公室一趟吗，我想你和聊聊。”
在警监办公室，蓬齐亚尼开门见山道：“那件不愉快的事件确实发生在一九四三年七月十五日，没错吧？”
“没错。”诺亚回答。
“这些，”警监边说边伸出一根手指，轻敲面前的一沓文件，“是德国当局提供的有关时属驻罗马装甲部队陆军少校阿洛伊斯·冯·格鲁博纳的报告。据这份报告记载，他于一九四三年七月十六日抛下部队，携巨额军饷潜逃，至此销声匿迹、人间蒸发。”
警监靠回椅背，冲着诺亚微笑。“有意思，是不是？非常有意思。你怎么看？”
“他没有抛下部队，”诺亚说，“也没有潜逃。巨额军饷被埃策希尔·科恩拿到了。”
“我也这么认为。我强烈怀疑这位军官被谋杀了——考虑到当时的情况，或许说暗杀更贴切——然后钱被拿走了。”
“可是尸体呢？”诺亚说，“当局没有以遭到谋杀为由搜寻他的尸体吗？”
“搜寻了。不过这位冯·格鲁博纳陆军上校，似乎有些——”警监伸出一根手指在空中画圈，寻找着合适的词语，“——有些不太好的人品问题。有挪用公款和造假的不良记录，这些历史足以让他的上司在他失踪后首先怀疑他有什么阴谋。我猜测当时的搜寻只是做做样子。我想，要是他们注意一下台伯河底——”
“你觉得他的尸体在河底？”
“河底，或者某个地下室下面，又或者某个黑暗墙角的深坑里。哦，我知道你在想什么，弗里曼先生。像埃策希尔·科恩医生那样的人，不太可能单枪匹马完成暗杀、抢劫和处理尸体。况且在人们的印象中，他并不是个喜欢用暴力解决问题的人。没错，但这一切充其量不过是猜测。猜测无法浇熄人们的怒火。我非常担心你的调查将无疾而终，或者以不太愉快的方式结束。”
诺亚摇了摇头，说道：“那个装满钱的公文箱，我听说埃策希尔·科恩被游击队员打死，之后尸体一直躺在马切罗广场上，但没人看到那个公文箱。公文箱呢？”
警监耸了耸肩。“被开枪的人拿走了啊，显而易见。”
“如果有人拿走了它，为什么后来再没有人看到了？甚至没人提起——战后安全期也没人提及——那笔原本想用来对付反抗军却反而被反抗军所用的钱。可你不觉得这种事本应是很好的笑谈——乡野趣事，流传于民间吗？”
“可能吧。但这些依旧只是猜测。”
“反正我无论如何都会调查到底，我决定就从这一点开始。”
“你真是个执著的人，弗里曼先生。”警监摇了摇头，有些勉强地赞美道，“好吧，如果你还需要什么帮助，直接来找我。真是执著，希望我的手下能有几个像你一样的。”
罗珊娜听完警监办公室里发生的一切后，便迫不及待地想把整件事公之于众。
“这就是证据，不是吗？”她质询道，“不管发生了什么，都和我父亲没有半点儿关系，对不对？”
“只有你和我这么想。别忘了那件事：有人看到你父亲拿着那个公文箱。除非能解释这件事，否则任何证据都无法证明他是无辜的。”
“可能他捡到了那个箱子。有这个可能，不是吗？”
“不太可能。”诺亚说，“还有，他干吗拿着它往马切罗广场跑？马切罗广场到底是个什么地方？”
“你还没去过吗？是一处遗址，像罗马斗兽场那样的，不过要小一点儿。”
“你现在能带我过去吗？”
“现在不行。在艾尔菲拉夫人回来之前，我不能离开这张桌子。不过那里离得不远，在门廊街，犹太教会堂再过去一点儿。你找三十九号，很好找。”
从家庭旅馆里出来，诺亚碰到了乔治·科恩，他正从一辆卡车上往下卸食材。诺亚猜测他比妹妹年长十岁，是个动作迟缓的大块头，原本不错的体格因为疏于锻炼而松散走形，脸上终年留着胡楂儿。尽管他看起来绵软无力，却举起一扇猪肉扛在肩上，步履轻松地钻进屋里。经过诺亚身边时，他鬼鬼祟祟地看了诺亚一眼，带着一副被打败的表情，诺亚不禁同情起他。罗珊娜被大家对父亲的恨意伤得很深，乔治则完全被摧毁了。现在又出了这件事，那堆古迹能改变什么的希望十分渺茫。
诺亚走过犹太教会堂，轻松地找到了门廊街，然后站在写着三十九号的建筑前迷茫地环顾四周。这里看不到半点儿罗马斗兽场那种遗迹的样子——事实上，什么都没有。三十九号就是一幢破旧的公寓楼，类似曼哈顿旧城区里的那种。
他研究着门铃边的住户姓名，好像这里藏着谜底似的，然后窥视里面铺着地砖的走廊。恰好一位抱着小孩的丰满女士走过，诺亚忙冲她微笑。
“马切罗广场，”他疑惑地问道，“在哪儿？”
她回以微笑，说了些听不懂的话，看到诺亚摇头，她举起一只手画了个圈。
“哦，在后面。”诺亚说，“谢谢。谢谢。”
确实在后面。而且，诺亚觉得这里是在这座不可思议的城市中，最不可思议的奇观之一。正如罗珊娜所描述的那样，马切罗广场，这处冷峻的灰色遗迹，就是一个缩小版的罗马斗兽场。但里面建有公寓楼，因此只有在高处才能看到半圆形的遗址全貌。
石墙、圆柱，以及高耸的拱门，确实都是古罗马遗迹。但从外面看却是幢公寓楼，欺骗了每个驻足观望的人。诺亚发现，连这幢古老建筑的最上层都派上了用场——被贴上砖，开了窗户，好几个窗户里还透出灯光。有人住在里面。他们从大街上回来，走过铺着地砖的走廊，爬上几段楼梯，走进墙面是由帝国奴隶在两千年前打造的厨房或卧室。难以置信，此时它就在面前。
建筑物外是一圈广阔的空地，布满碎石和杂草。一群小男孩在空地上踢足球，足球在他们脚下灵活地传来传去。大理石圆柱已经有一半陷入地下，妇女们坐在上面，轻晃着婴儿车。不远处，有位干瘪的老太婆正把肉块平铺在报纸上，几只猫——典型的吃得太多、长得又难看的罗马猫——眼馋地围着报纸转，等待开饭的信号。
诺亚试着幻想二十年前，当埃策希尔·科恩拿着那个有双头鹰的公文箱跑过黑漆漆的这一带时的景象。他来这儿肯定是有原因的，被什么事情拖住了，直到来复仇的游击队员找到并杀死了他。可会是什么事情呢？又与谁有关呢？肯定不会是公寓楼里的人，因为这一侧似乎没有入口。
相当于一楼的位置有一排拱门，实际上，这是原来通往马切罗广场内部竞技场的门。每一道拱门上都装有巨大的金属门，能看到门里有个砖砌的小洞穴，但无论如何都进不去。门旁边是圆柱残骸，以及穿着长袍、脑袋或手臂呈现出不同损毁状态的人像，这时刮过一阵风，卷起一片脏兮兮的纸片。只有一处遭人遗忘的洞穴中有人的迹象，大理石块上堆着书包、外套和毛衣，很显然是外面那几个踢足球的小伙子的东西，放在这里是安全起见。
安全起见。诺亚怀着越来越兴奋的心情研究起紧闭的大门。大门从地面直抵拱顶，金属门把挨得很近，即便是小孩也很难从中间钻进去。门锁又大又结实，上面附着一层厚厚的铁锈，连接门锁的链条粗重得堪比锚链。无论从下面钻、翻越还是穿过去都是天方夜谭——但那几个小伙子办到了。magic.二十年前的那个七月的夜晚，会不会也有人动用了魔法？
听到诺亚的召唤，小伙子们磨蹭了一会儿，这才小心翼翼地走到门边。诺亚费尽心思，想用手势讲明白自己的伺题，但最终还是用一包烟和一把硬币换来了一次现场示范。
其中一个小男孩露齿一笑，双手抓住门把手，稍稍用了些力把门把手拉了起来，直到拉成水平状。现在这扇门只有上方的十字门闩挡着了。男孩把十字门闩拨到一边，然后从中间的空当钻了进去。接着又钻回来，把门闩搬回原位，伸出手要烟。
在《日常意大利语》的帮助下，诺亚开始询问这群小孩。这些门锁上多久了？男孩们抓了抓脑袋，面面相觑。很久了，他们记事以前就在了，甚至在他们父亲记事以前就在。真的很久了。
那这个门把是什么时候松动的，帮助知道这个秘密的人自由进出？答案一样。住在附近的所有男孩都知道，他们的父亲也知道。
还有其他的门能进去吗？没有，只有这一个。好门。
诺亚用空着的双手赶走了男孩们——没有香烟，也没有硬币了——然后坐在一半陷入地下的圆柱上，旁边是晃着婴儿车的妇女，等待着。男孩们还没走，他们又踢了会儿足球，才带着东西离开了。不管怎么说，终于走了。接着，诺亚用新学到的秘密方法钻进那扇门，以专业方式慢慢地搜查背后那片昏暗之地。
他顾不上自己的手和衣服，小心地拂去碎纸片，摸索大理石块之间、下面，以及周围破碎的雕像。在洞穴的最深处，他刚清理完碎纸片就发现有一块地方非常干净。从墙角开始，诺亚双膝着地，一寸一寸往前挪，手指轻轻地来回探寻身子周围。这时他的指尖在坚硬的地面上碰到一处凹陷，微弱得几乎察觉不到。尽管这里的空气冰冷刺骨，他却开始出汗，不得不抽出手帕擦了擦眉毛。
他的指尖继续沿着凹陷处摸索，前进，拐弯，最终画出一个长方形，宽度刚好够躺下一个男人。记得有一次，执行任务时，诺亚·弗里曼警探曾在博朗克斯一座小棚屋外杂草丛生的院子里发现过类似的长方形，后来他在下面发现了想要的东西。他知道，若在马切罗广场的这里挖个洞，里面的东西也一定不会让他失望。他恨不得马上拿来工具自己动手挖开，而且这本就是警察的工作。不过他及时想到，必须找到一个合适的目击证人，见证所有碎片拼到一起的那一刻……
诺亚先去找到拉比，没多解释，只说有件紧急的事要让他当证人，然后两人一起回到艾尔菲拉家庭旅馆。一路上急匆匆地走街串巷，气喘吁吁。罗珊娜坐在前台，看到诺亚脏兮兮的双手，以及脸上一道一道的污迹和汗渍不由得警觉起来。看到拉比，她则连个招呼都没打，拉比是她的敌人，是不相信埃策希尔·科恩的一分子。她的眼里只有诺亚。
“发生了什么事？”她问道，“你怎么了？受伤了吗？”
“没有。听着，罗珊娜，你跟乔治提过冯·格鲁博纳的事吗？我去找警局警监的事？”
"No."
“很好。他现在人在哪儿？”
“乔治？我想应该在厨房。可是为什么？怎么了——？”
“你跟着一起来就知道怎么回事了。不过你不能说话，一个字都不行，明白吗？只管听我说。”
乔治正在厨房里无精打采地拖着地，看到有人进来他站住了，不解地看着他们。现在正是时候，诺亚寻思，必须马上迅速而直截了当地解决这件事，否则将永远错过机会。
“乔治，”他说，“我有事要跟你说，是好消息，你父亲没有出卖任何人。”
迷蒙的双眼中闪过一丝愤怒。“我知道，先生。这关你什么事？”
“他没出卖过任何人，乔治，但你做了。”
罗珊娜倒吸一口气。乔治可怜地晃了晃脑袋。“听听他都在说什么！够了，先生。够了。我还要工作。”
“那件事发生在很久以前，”诺亚无情地继续道，“当你父亲把付给你的钱拿走后，你为了拿回钱追了出去，并杀死了他。”
诺亚欣喜地看到，乔治并没被这项离谱的指控吓到，正相反，他似乎从中获得了力量。就是这样，诺亚想，这样才能引诱自以为安全的猎物一点一点靠近陷阱。不过这可苦了罗珊娜，她看看指控人，又看看被告，看起来随时有可能崩溃。拉比也愣住了，恐惧地看着这一幕。
乔治面向他们。“你们听见他在说什么了吗？”他质询道，语气中带着明显的嘲弄，“现在我成了杀人犯。杀了自己的亲生父亲。”
“有目击证人。”诺亚轻飘飘地说道。
“哦，当然，有目击证人。那么，目击证人是谁，先生？”
“那个人刚刚向警方揭发一切事实，他们马上就会带他来这里，让他指认凶手。他就是冯·格鲁博纳陆军上校。”
“这真是天大的谎话！”乔治得意扬扬地说，“他已经死了，那个人！死了，埋起来了，听到了吗？所以你说的这些——”
猎物落进陷阱了。有些会为重获自由奋力反抗，甚至不惜切断一条腿也要逃出来；有些则在陷阱闭合的瞬间彻底崩溃，变成一堆颤抖着等待死亡的肉块。在诺亚看来，乔治无疑是后一种。他马上没了声音，下巴低垂，脸色苍白。紧握的拖布啪嗒一声掉到了地上。罗珊娜朝他走近了一步，不过被诺亚抱住了，没让她再靠近。
“你怎么知道他死了，乔治？”她质问道，“听听，死了，埋起来了——你怎么知道的？没人知道，为什么只有你知道？”
面前的男人身子晃了晃，无力地靠在墙上。
“你杀死冯·格鲁博纳并拿走了他的钱，”诺亚说道，“你父亲想把钱处理掉的时候被游击队员抓到，以叛徒的罪名射杀了，当时你就在旁边，却没有说出真相。换句话说，你是帮凶，不是吗？自他死后，你便一直守着这个秘密，对不对？”
“乔治！”罗珊娜哭喊道，“你为什么不告诉他们真相？为什么？为什么？”
“因为，”诺亚答道，“这样一来，人们就会知道谁才是真正的叛徒了。那些钱是你出卖情报换来的，对不对，乔治？”
回答声仿佛呻吟。 "right."
“你？”罗珊娜难以置信地反问，双眼紧盯着哥哥，“是你？”
“可我能怎么办呢？我能怎么办呢？他找到我，那个德国人，说他知道我和反抗军在一起，如果我不告诉他他们藏在哪儿，就杀死我。但如果我说出来，不仅不会死，还能得到奖赏。”
说完，这具如破损不堪的巨大船只般的躯体突然向罗珊娜袭来，同时双臂乱晃。不过被诺亚挡住了。“你为什么要杀死冯·格鲁博纳？”
“因为他骗了我。那些人被发现后，我去找他要钱，他冲我大笑，说我必须告诉他其他人在哪儿，告诉他所有情报他才会给钱。于是我杀死了他。趁他转身，我拿起一块石头猛砸他的脑袋，一下又一下，直到把他砸死。然后我把他埋在那扇只有当地男孩才知道怎么进去的门里，这样就不会有人发现了。”
“但你拿走了那个装满钱的公文箱。”
“是的，但我交给了父亲，并对他坦白了一切。毫无隐瞒，我发誓。我希望他打我，甚至杀了我，如果这样做能弥补过错的话。但他没有。他只知道要把钱还回去，他太看重信用了！结果因此而死。他简直讲究信用到了疯狂的地步！这世上还有谁会把钱还给一个死人？”
乔治双腿一软跪了下去，用拳头一下一下地捶着地面。“还有谁？”他咆哮着，“还有谁？”
拉比无助地看着诺亚，痛苦地说：“那时他还只是个孩子，一个小男孩。我们怎能因为一个孩子犯下的错而判他有罪呢？”接着，他困惑地问道，“还有，那些血腥钱呢？埃策希尔·科恩是怎么处理的？现在在哪儿呢？”
“我想你马上就能知道了。”诺亚说。
加上赶来的蓬齐亚尼警监和他的手下，诺亚召集来的人此时都聚在马切罗广场那扇门前。大家都来了，拉比和卖明信片的卡洛·皮佩尔诺，屠夫维托·拉维，以及把名字刻在家庭旅馆大门上的东道主。还有住在马切罗广场的人，他们想知道自己家下面到底有什么，放学经过的学生们也围过来凑热闹。
能看出警监很清楚自己的职责所在，他带来两队强壮又年轻的卡宾枪骑兵，一队负责挖掘工作，一队控制激动的群众。
唯独不见乔治。他躺在台伯岛上一家医院的病床上，脸冲着墙。医生说他想死，但他还不能死。他会活下去，并在别人的帮助下不再荒废剩下的时日。很可能就在医院帮帮忙，工作能帮助不幸的他重获信心，觉得自己有用。医生会选择合适的时机这么做的。
诺亚看着警察砸碎门锁，打开大门，锈迹斑斑的锁链发出沉闷的声响。诺亚一手环着罗珊娜的腰，把她往自己身边拉近了一点，稍微离开越挤越近的人群。这一切都是她的功劳，他想。是她的信仰移走了大山，同时影响了他，现在作为一个拥有坚毅信念的人，他不再害怕回家，不怕去面对那些愤世嫉俗的批判者。支撑你的不是大多数人的信赖，而是一个人永不改变的信任。
警察打开照明灯，照亮了门后的地下洞穴。他们先检查了一下地面，然后小心地挥动着铲子，警监一边在一旁徘徊观察，一边发号施令。
“小心，”他说，“慢慢来，慢慢来。”
挖出的泥土在墙边堆成一座小山，接着警察们放下铁铲，跪在坑边一把一把地往外刨土。渐渐的，一具枯骨呈现在众人面前，颅骨粉碎，身子上套着破破烂烂的军装。
然后，在探照灯刺眼的灯光下，诺亚发现这具尸体己不是第一次被挖出来了。骨骸的前胸处放着一只已经腐坏的小皮箱，上面有一只黑糊糊的双头鹰。箱子早就散架了，里面的钱黏成一团，看起来更像土渣，不过还是能辨认出之前是什么。二十年前，埃策希尔·科恩挖出刚刚埋下的阿洛伊斯·冯·格鲁博纳陆军少校，把钱还给了他。现在他站在这里，幻想当时的场景。
拉比的声音从身后传来的，唤醒了诺亚。然后不断传来更多的声音，最终所有声音汇成低沉、绵长的祈祷。诺亚觉得这串祈祷比最古老的罗马遗址还要久远。这是卡迪什——犹太人对死者的祈祷，祈求埃策希尔·科恩能入天堂，从此安息。
Notes:
Notes: