'The Killing of Gentle People' by Michel Henri (book club books .txt) 📕

know!”
The empty space across the table answered me:
“But Abraham! l am an Angel! l am your Guardian Angel!”
I leaned forward and continued my conversation with this unseen force as if the Angel! Had taken the seat and was conversing with me.
“Do you know what forgiveness is? Can you explain it to me? If you can reveal it to me now, then l will die in peace, for this forgiveness has driven me to near suicide several times.”
“Abraham! I know everything about you, and your commitments to living so that retribution could be yours. I know these things! You don’t think suicide is dying. In your heart and soul and in my mind, suicide is just killing. You are killing a human being even though that human being is yourself. Do you understand what l am saying to you, Abraham?”
Standing up and facing the chair l said in anger:
“Answer me, for God’s sake! Answer me! If you are my Guardian Angel, answer me!”
The server walked over to my table and put her hand on my shoulder:
“Is something wrong, sir? Can l help you with anything?” Then she whispered:
“Do you know you are upsetting some of our customers? You are talking to yourself out loud. Did you know you were doing that?”
“I’m so sorry! I’m just leaving, miss. Thank you for my meal. I enjoyed it very much. So sorry!”
I got up from my chair and put on my overcoat with a little help from the waitress, then walked out of the café door and into the boulevard and the bright sunshine. Looking around at the trees and the


leaves glittering in the rays of the sun, which was sitting high in the pale blue sky, l realised that l had never really looked at anything this way before. I was always trying to duck and dive to stay alive. Now l was ashamed of the comments l had made to my invisible friend in the café about the
Great Architect of the Universe. I was very deeply ashamed that my tunnel vision had brought me to this place in time.

Son of Heinz Stein
I walked about twenty paces from the café when a young man came up behind me and touched me on my shoulder.
“Sir, can l speak to you for a moment?” he asked.
“No! Go away please! I don’t want to talk to you!” l answered, and carried on walking.
“I do not know you, and at this moment l need to be alone with my thoughts. I have many things on my mind, so please leave me. Go away!”
“No, sir, l cannot do that! l know who you are, and you need my help.”
Stopping in my tracks, l thought: Another Guardian Angel.
I turned to face the boy. Lifting my face upwards l could see this handsome young man properly. Neither of us said a word. We just looked at each other. It was like a game of chess, both wondering who would make the first move. The young man moved closer to me, much closer. He was facing me, and put both his hands on my shoulders. This time he leaned to one side whispered into my ear.
“Your mother, father and your sister were murdered at the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp. Yes, and your name is Mr. Abraham Golden. Your friend’s name is Heinz Stein?” I looked puzzled. “You made a death pact to help each other to stay alive in the camp. Heinz Stein now works at the Central Library. You both survived the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp. Now, does retribution mean anything to you, Mr. Golden?”
I looked past the young man over his broad shoulders, staring for a moment into space. And in that space l could see my dear mother, father, and sister.
“Survived? What are you talking about? You know nothing of me and l know nothing of you!

So please leave me to my thoughts; just please go away.”
Reconsidering my words, l looked once again at his handsome face. I stared into his dark brown eyes, and, lifting my shaking hand l touched his lovely young face with my wizened fingers. He
didn’t move, standing motionless in front of me, barring my way.
l asked: “You are just a boy! How do you think a boy could help Abraham Golden, an old heart- broken man with an old broken body? Do tell me!”
“Mr. Golden: my father is your friend Heinz Stein!” I looked shocked.
“As you know, he works at the Central Library for the local government. I know all about the names and addresses of families involved at the Auschwitz-Birkenau killing camp. Shall l go on, sir? Like saying the word, retribution?”
“No! Stop there, dear boy. Just walk with me a little way, if you please.”
We started to walk together, the boy kindly holding my shaking arm.
“Young man: l am a little confused. You see l was under the impression that no one other than your father Heinz and myself knew anything about the retribution we had planned.”
“That’s true, Mr. Golden, you were. But last night l found my father crying in his bedroom. He was completely inconsolable. He completely broke down and told me everything. Yes! I knew a long time ago about your friendship, and how you survived the death camp. But, alas, l knew nothing about this dreadful retribution obsession. Father said it is time to stop the killing of gentle people before the Devil takes you both to the depths of hell-fire. Then there will be no turning back, Mr. Golden. He will own you, body and soul. You will both be no better than those monsters from the camp. It has gone too far, do you understand? You have gone over the bridge. It must stop now, at this very moment. It’s not difficult to destroy life, Mr. Golden. You have been a witness to that. But please remember that when it’s destroyed there is no way to repair it. Both you and my father are better than this!”
The boy held my shoulders in a vice like grip. He looked into my eyes, and again whispered into my ear. “Mr. Abraham Golden is now a person, not a number! Do you hear me? You are a real person! You are no longer just a number.”

He shook my shoulders as though he was talking to a son of his own.
“The police came to see my father. That killer of Jews, Inspector Mercedes questioned him about the names and addresses of those people he helped you to find so that you could kill them, making them suffer as you did. The police are not pointing the finger at him for the killings. But for me, my
father is just as much to blame as you are.”
For a moment l looked at the boy. No! l was looking at a fully grown up man.
“Have you any idea of what went on inside that camp? In any of the camps? Have you? No! you do
not have the slightest idea! You can’t have unless you were actually there to witness the butchery. Watching gentle people who were trying to stay alive being butchered and kicked to death for fun. So don’t stand there in my way and try to make me think you do! Is that clear?”
My hands were shaking, and l was sweating as if l had just done ten rounds with a heavy-weight. My heart was pumping in my chest, and the sound echoed in my head. Tingles ran round my chest and down my arms. I took hold of the young man, gripping his arm to stop myself from collapsing onto the pavement. I knew l was having a panic attack.
The young man held me as if l was a delicate work of art. He was strong but gentle in his touch. He took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and dried my eyes, and for a moment he held me in his arms like my father did.
“Sir! I have no advice to give you. How could l? Today we live in a different era. It’s now a different world. But you and my father will be found out by the police, and it will come to a horrifying end. You will both be punished unsympathetically. No good can come from this retribution. Mr. Golden, everything you say is true. I could have no idea about what really went on in the camps. No one alive today, my age, has the slightest idea. We have to rely on the historical stories. But this scuffle, confused fight, this retribution you are taking is also horrendous, and you have to stop this now.”
I half shouted at him again, shaking myself free from his gentle grip.
“You do not understand those animals who were running the camps. Those were not ordinary


people! they were the personification of evil. They were the disciples of the Devil, and they prized it. They loved doing what they did.”
I straightened myself up: l knew the young man was right.
“Look, l need to get back to the Dumb Cow wine bar. It is near the Fiveways Intersection. Can you spare the time to help me get there? Please say yes! I promise with your help l will put a stop to all this, and keep your father in the clear: Will you help me do this, please?”
The young man looked at me with compassion, but with suspicion in his eyes.
“Yes Mr. Golden! l will help you do this thing. But don’t let the Rabbi know, or my father. Come on! Let’s go get on with it.”
He kindly took my arm and we headed slowly for the tram stop, neither of us saying another word, l think we were out of things to say, for that moment.

Inspector Mercedes’ Office: the same afternoon.
Inspector Victor Mercedes stared at Sergeant Becky Gold, who was sitting opposite him. He looked, stared and lusted like an old pervert at a massage parlour who was fixing his gaze onto his next young sex victim.
The Sergeant moved and crossed her legs nervously.
“Well, have you had a good look, Inspector? I have worked here for two years and l would have thought you knew what l looked like by now, with those x-ray eyes of yours.”
“Don’t talk clever with me, Sergeant Gold! Or should l call you Sergeant Innocent? That is if you want to stay a Sergeant; understand me? I am told there isn’t an officer in this team you haven’t fucked or hasn’t fucked you, you little whore. So what’s wrong with me then? Don’t you want to try it with a real man?”
He got up, then without taking his eyes of Becky Gold’s breasts walked over to the ever open office door, closed and locked it.
“You, Sergeant Innocent, have been teasing me like you tease all men! Well, l have been looking at
the meat long enough.”

He then shouted out loud:
“Your sex teasing time is up, Jewish whore! I want it now. Do you hear me Jewish whore? I want you right now!”
He lunged forward, grabbing her bare arm in a vice like grip, and with the other hand pulled her blouse open to reveal her beautiful breasts and lily white skin. This view of her body made him even more audacious.
“Yes! Yes!” he shouted out. Then he hit her in the face, knocking her against the office door. The Sergeant turned quickly and unlocked the door.
“What did you call me?” she shouted back at him, “What did you call me?”
“Nothing!”