Monday's Child , livre ebook

HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Cover by Koechel Peterson Associates, Minneapolis, Minnesota
MONDAY S CHILD
Copyright 1999 by Linda Chaikin
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Chaikin, L. L.,
Monday s Child / Linda Chaikin.
p. cm.-(A Day to Remember Series)
ISBN 978-0-7369-0067-6
ISBN 978-0-7369-5430-3 (eBook)
1. Title. II. Series: Chaikin, L. L., A Day to Remember Series.
PS3553.H2427M66 1999
813 .54-dc21
99-20926
CIP
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Contents
Family Trees
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
About the Author
FAMILY TREES
KLOSSNER FAMILY, ST. MORITZ AND DAVOS, SWITZERLAND:
Gerhart Klossner: doctor
Inger Grendelmier Klossner: Gerhart s wife
Franz Klossner: Gerhart and Inger s son
Anna Klossner: Gerhart and Inger s daughter
Peter Grendelmier: Anna s husband
Krista Grendelmier: Peter and Anna s daughter
Elsa Klossner von Buren: Gerhart s cousin and Wilhelm s wife
Henrich Klossner: Franz s cousin
Veena Klossner: Henrich s wife
Vonda Klossner Gotthard: Franz s cousin and Georg s wife

GOTTHARD FAMILY, ZURICH:
Josef Gotthard: owner of Gotthard Enterprises
Georg Gotthard: Josef s brother
Paul Gotthard: Georg and Vonda s son

VON BUREN FAMILY, ZURICH:
Wilhelm von Buren: retired banker
Ehrlich von Buren: Wilhelm and Elsa s son

COHEN FAMILY, AUSTRIA:
Benjamin Cohen: tailor
Sarah Cohen: Benjamin s wife
Judith Cohen: Benjamin and Sarah s daughter
Reuben Harman: Judith s husband
Tirzah Cohen: Benjamin and Sarah s daughter
Fritz Cohen: Benjamin and Sarah s son
Stella Cohen: Fritz s granddaughter
Map
1
ZURICH
K rista walked uphill from the von Buren mansion near Bergstrasse 19. If she were under surveillance her mid-morning stroll appeared ordinary enough: between modeling assignments for Gotthard Enterprises she always came home to Switzerland, often to Zurich in particular, for a warm, loving visit with her bachelor uncle, Franz Klossner. Nothing surprising there. She was very devoted to Uncle Franz. He had taken her under his wing when she was twelve and raised her after the tragic death of her parents in a climbing accident near the St. Moritz ski lodge, now run by her cousin, Henrich Klossner.
Yes, she thought as she walked along the Zurich street. Anyone who cared to notice could see that she and Uncle Franz were close. There would be no reason to question her visit. And she also shared a strong interest in his work as head professor of Swiss and German history at the University in Zurich s Old Town. Why, she might even have followed his steps and opted for a teaching career in history herself, except for her appearance. The tweed and oxford society of the conservative academic world would not take a beautiful woman seriously.
Her mouth tightened as she trudged uphill against the bone-chilling wind. At least Interpol found her appearance an asset for their cause in Europe; she was above suspicion. Her face might adorn Europe s esteemed fashion magazines, but it was also useful for the underground work that secretly linked Gotthard Enterprises with international espionage.
What would Uncle Franz do when Paul broke that news to him this morning? Paul would be waiting at her uncle s apartment when she arrived. It was Franz s birthday and the best excuse she had to bring him the small, rare copy of an early history of Roman rule in Zurich. She d stumbled upon the book during her last modeling job in Venice while roaming the little used bookshops with Paul.
Her thoughts turned again to her concerns about working with Interpol. What is the new job all about this time? she wondered. Paul had told her so little in last night s late telephone call at the von Buren mansion. Her mission was simple, he had told her. While on her way this morning to see Uncle Franz she was to visit B. Rhinefelden s out-of-print bookshop and purchase another book-this one of old World War II photography, taken by Elsa Klossner von Buren. The book would be on display in the window. Everything had been arranged beforehand and should go smoothly. She was not to worry.
Krista s supple black leather boots echoed across the damp cobbles as she began the climb up the street that circled the University. Wherever she looked there were Gothic buildings, some with stone spires and what she considered ugly little demons-gargoyles grinning at her in stone.
The chill wind blew against her and she pushed her gloved hands deeper inside the pockets of her ankle-length black coat. The weak February sunlight failed to warm the stone where frost lingered, glistening on venerable old buildings. The two- and three-story cloistered houses, occasionally interspersed with small town squares, lined the hilly, twisting streets that stretched from the University s heights down to the shores of the blue-gray River Limmat that eventually flowed into the German Rhine.
She paused to look back in the direction from which she had come, studying the shore of the lake below as if seeing it for the first time. Her eyes were busy, making sure she hadn t been followed by a man she had first noticed in Rome.
This morning she thought the river looked sullen and secretive. She knew that the river was concealing an age-old past, like many of the Swiss who, for the first time that she could remember, were being asked probing questions about their neutrality during the war across their northern border. Had Swiss Banks cooperated with Nazi Germany by laundering looted gold reserves from the occupied countries of Belgium, France, and Poland in order to finance Hitler s Third Reich and its atrocities?
The scandal grew, for it was also common knowledge that Europe s Jewry, faced with growing anti-Semitism under Hitler s dictatorship, had tried to preserve their family wealth from confiscation by sending it into neutral Switzerland before being sent to the death camps. But now, many of those same banks were under scrutiny for continuing to hold onto perhaps billions in secret numbered accounts, while refusing to disclose information to the families of the holocaust victims. Jewish groups wanted the matter looked into with restitution made to the rightful heirs. Meanwhile, the bankers were accused of delay tactics. In response, some Swiss bankers and political leaders in Switzerland had made what Jews considered anti-Semitic remarks. Apologies were demanded, resignations were on the brink. It was an ugly time, and even more disturbing to her, Paul seemed to think the family might somehow be involved. For Krista, the thought was revolting.
At all costs we must save our good name, he had told her.
Our good name? she had countered. What is that when our nation may have turned its back upon thousands of desperate people trying to reach our neutral border, leaving them no alternative but to return to Adolph Eichmann s gas chambers?
That has yet to be proven, he had said stiffly.
As she stood looking down at the Limmat, Krista felt unduly cold. Perhaps it came from the unpleasantness brooding on the horizon and the thought that her future was changing more rapidly than she could handle in her own strength. The months and years flew by and subtle changes were occurring in her faith. Franz had given her a new Bible for Christmas. She renewed the decision to begin reading it again in earnest.
The shoreline of the lake was packed with turn-of-the-century houses and small private boats. Paul kept his luxurious yacht anchored on the left shore of the lake. The two of them had once gone sailing on a pleasant Sunday afternoon. After attending the church service at the historical Grossmunster where Zwingli had preached the Reformation, she and Paul had enjoyed a leisurely luncheon at one of the popular cafes on the Uto Quai-the wide promenade connecting the small harbors-then they enjoyed the view on the lake until late afternoon when the sun set. They had walked back uphill to the University where her uncle was waiting for them in his comfortable apartment with coffee and Swiss chocolate. Such pleasant Sundays would eventually draw to a close after an evening discussing history and literature. Yes those had been better days, and it felt to her that the time for them was also drawing to a close.
Krista watched the wind beat the lake into silvery ripples as a few clouds gathered near the lower hills overlooking the water. In the distance, behind the hills, monumental snow-clad Swiss peaks gazed down on Zurich as though undisturbed by the modern rush of civilization. She cooled her emotions by taking a moment to dismiss the tension from her mind. The Alps dwarfed and humbled everything. The grandeur and stability declared the Creator s sovereignty over men and nations as well as the diabolical forces that ruled unregenerate political leaders. Natural man s tainted history