“Tracks, sir?”
The captain came and grabbed Max by the collar of his coat and led him to the trail, where he pushed the old man onto the snow. “These tracks,” he said. “The ones that lead to the southeast of here.”
Grenzmann frowned.
“Now look what you made me do. You made me lose my temper. I very much dislike losing my temper, Max. What is it someone said? ‘When you lose your temper, you lose the argument’? Not that this is much of an argument. I mean, we both know I’m right and that you’re lying.”
“Ah, you mean those tracks.”
“Yes, I do mean those tracks.”
“I hardly noticed them, sir. They look like deer tracks. I think there are still a few on the reserve that your men have not yet killed.”
Grenzmann laughed. “Really, it’s amusing. I have to hand it to you, Max. You are a most persistently stubborn fellow. You insult me with your lies. I think we both know that these tracks in the snow are not the tracks of a deer—which has two toes that make an upside-down heart shape—but the tracks of a small horse, which has no toes. Do you really think it’s possible that an Olympic equestrian like me—someone who’s been around horses all his life—would not recognize the hoofprint of a horse? To be more exact—two small horses, not to mention the tracks of a dog—your dog—and a human being. And this is the intriguing part: whose tracks are these? A partisan, perhaps? A Red Army soldier? Who?” He shrugged. “Well, perhaps we’ll find out more when we go inside the waterworks, if that’s what this is. I’m no longer sure about anything you’ve told me.” He looked at one of his men. “Bring him along,” he said coldly.
With Max now their prisoner, the Germans went through the hidden door and along the passageway. While two of the captain’s men inspected the mechanics of the pumping station, the captain and two others walked out the other side and into one of the stone water tanks, where the captain sniffed the air suspiciously.
“It smells very much like horse in here, Max.” Picking up the broom, Grenzmann turned it around and put his nose near the head. “No question about it,” he added. “Horse.” He smiled. “A horse that knows how to open a door and sweep up its own dung, perhaps.”
“Sir,” said a voice from inside the other water tank. “Come and take a look at this.”
Everyone went through the jagged doorway of the second tank, where an SS sergeant had lit a lantern and was lifting it above his head to illuminate Kalinka’s paintings.
Grenzmann took the lantern from his sergeant and was silent for a moment as he looked around the stone wall.
“Remarkable,” he said eventually. “Quite remarkable. And really very artistic. Exactly like being in one of those French caves at Lascaux. You haven’t heard of those, Max? Yes, they’re a recent discovery in Vichy France. I read about that in a newspaper. Apparently, they’re at least seventeen thousand years old. Although I’ll hazard a guess that these on your walls are not nearly so old. I’ll also guess that these are not the work of some primitive Stone Age man but of someone rather more contemporary.” He bent down beside one of Kalinka’s black palm prints and placed his own hand over it. “And altogether smaller. Most likely a child. Or a young woman. How about it, Max? Has someone been living in here, in secret?”
“Only very recently,” admitted Max. “And quite without my knowledge. As a matter of fact, it was only yesterday I discovered—quite by chance—that someone was living in here.”
“That remains to be seen,” said Grenzmann. He rubbed at one of the black palm prints with a gloved hand. “I must say, these handprints don’t look like they were done only yesterday. They seem quite indelible.”
“I can assure you, I’m telling you the truth, sir. And, really, it was so cold, I could hardly throw this person out onto the steppe.”
“And those sub-equine Przewalski’s horses of yours. Were they also here without your knowledge? This is your last chance to level with me.”
“No, sir. I brought them here.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Two stallions? Two mares? One of each? What are we talking about?”
Max might have been more careful about how he answered this question if he had known just how far the SS captain was prepared to go in carrying out his orders.
“A stallion and a mare,” he said.
“So. A breeding pair. Perhaps the last two on the estate. Maybe even in the world.”
“I couldn’t bear to see them slaughtered like all the others,” said Max.