The Bookkeeper: A Serialized Novel, Page 95
Two women, separated by decades; one a Mossad agent, trailing a war criminal in Central America, the other a prisoner in a concentration camp, trying to survive, bound together by one man: the Bookkeeper.
"And what sorts of duties were you assigned in this shop?" he asked, ignoring her question.
“Recording payments, balancing the register at the end of the day, keeping track of the clothing that had been sold, those types of things. They didn’t have me work with the customers,” she said. She had decided it wasn’t worth pressing him on her question. He clearly didn’t want to answer her question and she had learned better than to annoy the guards.
“And did you find that work…difficult?” he asked.
“Not especially,” she said. “The shop was busy enough so my days were full, but the work of calculating comes easy to me.”
“Yes,” he said, a smile flicking across his lips, “I suppose it would to your race.” Her face must have shown her discomfort at his comment because he added, “Oh, don’t misunderstand me, I mean it as a compliment. As a bookkeeper myself, I admire the Jewish natural abilities with figures.”
“Bookkeeper?” she asked, surprised.
“Why yes, I’m the camp bookkeeper, Kurt Schroeder, didn’t they tell you?” he laughed the way one might laugh at a child’s foolishness.
“No, they didn’t tell me anything,” she said, “they brought me here without talking to me.”
“Well then, why did you think you were brought here?” he asked.
“I didn’t know, I was just told to come,” she said and then added, “I still don’t know.”
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