on the lunchroom table. A picture of SS soldiers caught his eye. In English and Estonian he could make out the words Nazis, Estonians and arrest. He had difficulty breathing and his heart was racing. He remembered news reports on the telly mentioning former Nazis being tracked down and captured the world over. Now the hunt had come to Adelaide.
"Endel. You OK mate?" asked one of his co-workers.
"I..I em fine," he stuttered as he raced out of the door.
He had to run. If his past was discovered he would lose everything. Not wanting to shame his young family he went straight home, packed his suitcase and was on the next train out of Adelaide. When Ania came home with the kids after school, there was no note, just the bankbook and a half empty wardrobe.
Central Station, Sydney
Present day
"G'Day Arthur. Geez, you're popular lately," called out Stan, the Serco Domestic Services Manager, as the old cleaner arrived at work. The old cleaner had little cause to speak with Stan in the course of his work, however he could not avoid his affable supervisor who stood in the middle of the hallway leading to the Northern Concourse."Had a woman and a bloke in here over the last week asking after you. Told 'em to bugger off of course, Privacy Act and all."
"I see," replied the old cleaner timidly.
"Not on the run are ya!" said Stan in a faux conspiratorial voice as he nudged his ribs.
"No, no. Notink like that. Please excuse me. I do not want to start my sheeft late." The old cleaner went into the tiny cleaner's room and closed the door behind him. There, in the musty dark with ammonia fumes swirling around him, he felt his chest constrict and his blood beating in his ears. He had to hold onto the wall to steady himself. Was Sigrid looking for me? Does she know my terrible secret? Who was the man? Once he had regained his composure he emerged from the room and, as per his routine, went to work with his dustpan and broom, all the while looking about furtively to see if anyone was spying on him.
The second he finished work he shuffled as quickly as he could to the bus stop and waited impatiently for the 442. Once he was back in his flat he locked the door, closed all of the curtains and sat in the dark quietly save for Miiko who was making that universal cat sound: I'm hungry! as he rubbed against his master's legs.
Sometime later he could hear Mr Callaghan, his landlord who lived in the main house, talking animatedly to a visitor. Normally the old cleaner would have ignored the conversation, but this time he could not help himself. He drew back a corner of the curtain and peered up the narrow lane beside the main house. He saw Mr Callaghan talking to a tall man in a suit, with a short haircut and a clipboard in his hand. Why are the police here? Is he the man who was looking for me? How did he find me? He saw Mr Callaghan open the gate and gesture down the lane toward the flat. The policeman strode purposefully down the lane. The old cleaner scrambled underneath the kitchen bench and, to an orchestra of crashing pots and pans, pulled out his tin of secrets. He took out the Luger and with trembling hands tried to chamber a round but after sixty years the pistol was having none of it. The working parts had rusted in place.
The corroded return spring on the screen door made an ominous screech as it was opened. A man size shadow appeared at the opaque glass on the front door, followed by knocking that echoed through the flat. "Hello, are you there Mr Kadak?"
The old cleaner sat in the corner and stared at the door, terrified.
"I know someone's there. I could hear the racket you were making. It's alright. I'm not the police, you're not in any trouble."
"Go away! I want to be left alone."
After a minute's more silence the visitor tried another approach. "Endel......my name's Aaron. Aaron Hektor. I'm Krisjan's son. Your grandson."
The old cleaner was torn between curiosity and caution. "What do you want?"
"Just to talk."
A minute later Aaron heard the deadlock turn and the door open a crack. The old face peering through examined him suspiciously before ushering him in.
"How did you find me?"
"I'm an insurance investigator. Once Aunty Katariina told me you may have been working at the Sydney Train Station it was easy. The whole family's been talking about you. We were told that you must have died. Why did you disappear?"
Endel placed his tin of secrets on the kitchen table and withdrew the remaining contents. Starting with the picture of the junior SS soldiers everything spilled out of him like some cleansing confessional.
Aaron picked up the 1965 newspaper clipping and read it in detail. "Endel? Can you read?"
"Yes...yes I can. I know some words," he replied indignantly, pulling his head up and pushing out his chest.
Pausing long enough to consider a polite response, Aaron said, "Endel, this is just a historical article in the paper. There's nothing about a manhunt for war criminals."
"But it says 'arrest'"
"Where?"
"There," pointed Endel to the offending word.
"That's a medicine advert. It says anti-histamine."
"Yes, histamine. It is Estonian for arrest."
Aaron consulted his iPhone, which confirmed the translation. "Endel, this newspaper's only written in English. There is no arrest, no hunt. It's just an interest piece."
"But what about this?" replied Endel thrusting the second clipping at his grandson.
"This is a missing person article. It says your family's trying to find you and that the police are helping.” He paused. “Come home with me. You have four grandchildren and two great grandchildren."
"Ania?"
"Nanna passed away four years ago. She never remarried."
Endel sat stoney faced as the true storey dawned upon him. His lack of education and stubbornness to learn to read and write had torn his life apart. He placed his face in his hands and his body was wracked by sobbing. Aaron moved around the table and placed his arm around his grandfather.
The Junction Community Centre, Adelaide
One month later
Despite Katariina and his great grandaughter, Sigrid holding his hands, Endel entered the centre with some trepidation. He could not remember the last time he had been in a classroom. When he entered a sea of faces turned to look at the newcomer. His fellow students seemed to span all races, going by their skin colour and in some cases, traditional garb. There were no young people, just adults of all ages, right up to and including his own. A woman was talking animatedly to the class and writing on the whiteboard at the same time. She stopped mid speech and strode over to him, her hand out. "Mr Hektor, is it?"
"Yes."
"I'm so pleased to meet you. I'm Natalie. Welcome to our class. As you can see there are many people just like you. It's never too late to learn how to read."
The sea of inquisitive faces were now smiling back at him, now that they knew he was a new classmate, a fellow traveller.
Rosewood, Adelaide
Two years later
Katariina came home from the theatre with her husband, Tom and her daughter Astrid to find her two grandchildren asleep in the guest room beds, children's, books strewn about. Their Great Grandfather's newfound passion for reading had swept up his grandchildren and they read to each other most nights of the week. It was his way of reconnecting with his family and it was working a treat with the younger generation.
Katariina went down the hallway to Issa’s room. She insisted he move in so that she could catch up on the missing years in the little time he had remaining on this earth. He was in his favourite chair, an English copy of the Estonian classic Spring by Oskar Luts was open on his lap. Other classics; The Count of Monte Christo, Don Quixote and The Thirty Nine Steps, were in his small bookshelf. She placed a blanket around him and noticed that he was not breathing but had a content look about him. She placed her hand against his cheek and his skin was cold. He had passed away doing one of the things he had loved the most but had been denied to him these many years.
About the author
Steve is a Townsville based write
r of fiction in the field of action/adventure. This is his first novel. He is currently a HR Manager and has previously served in the Australian Army for 21 years. He took up fiction writing in 2011 and won a local short story competition followed by a winning entry in the National Year of Reading 2011 Short Story Competition for unpublished writers.
The Return
March 1945. Tom Mueller, a POW in Nazi Germany, finally makes a "home run" after four long years in captivity. His London debrief retells his amazing odyssey of capture, escape and heartbreaking recapture. He astounds everyone when he agrees to lead a covert team back into Germany to carry out a desperate rescue mission. Tom’s return to Nazi Germany in its dying days reveals a hidden agenda.
Served Cold
Ali Ahmad had brought his family to Australia to escape the horrors of the Iraq civil war. He’d worked hard to be a good citizen and establish a small business in order to pay his own way in his new homeland. What he didn’t expect was to have his family kidnapped. What the police didn’t expect was a bizarre ransom demand to be played out on national television. And what the television networks didn’t expect were to be pawns in a twisted game of revenge.
Visitors
Geoff Rankin, a returned serviceman, just wants to get away for a quiet weekend up in the tablelands. When he encounters what appear to be visitors from