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“And then they took away your citizenship.”
“And then they took away my citizenship.”
“May I ask why you served time in the prison?”
Palasota looked at Sturmbannführer Müller for a moment, then back at Kappler as he mentally chose his words.
“Running businesses that were frowned upon,” he said as he glanced at the hookers. “Girls, for one.”
The two young women looked at each other, sensed that they were the subject of conversation, and giggled.
So he ran whorehouses in New York? Kappler thought.
And now he runs one here?
“And such an enterprise as that gets one deported from the United States of America?” Kappler said.
Jimmy Palasota chuckled. “No. Not that alone. I guess I shot one guy.”
“Only one?” Kappler said.
“One guy too many.”
Müller, sipping at his wine, put in: “Shot or killed?”
Palasota raised his eyebrows.
“Okay,” he said, “killed.”
“How many did you kill?” Kappler said.
Palasota’s eyes wandered around the room. He crossed his arms and shrugged.
Müller, his tone suddenly icy, said: “He asked how many. Tell the obersturmbannführer how many you killed!”
Palasota met Müller’s eyes for a long moment, then he looked at Kappler.
“Let’s just say more than one, Herr Obersturmbannführer.”
Kappler nodded as he thought, Very interesting. The body language suggests this Palasota does as he pleases. And he is completely uncowed by Müller and his temper.
Müller, his tone now lighter, raised his glass in toast toward Palasota.
“Very well, then! Salute!”
Okay, so now I understand what’s probably the real appeal for Müller.
He believes that they are kindred souls.
Müller, the murderous bastard, has the reputation of being quick to the kill.
He glanced at the bar.
Which would explain the look those men made—they probably are university professors.
* * *
Oskar Kappler had had no choice but to oversee Hans Müller when the SS had transferred the germ warfare experiment to Palermo from the Dachau concentration camp.
