VAS/LV GROSSMAN
15
Here, instead of the stench of ammonia, there was a cool smell of
tobacco. Mostovskoy noticed a half-smoked cigarette on the floor
and wanted to pick it up .
They climbed up to the second floor . The guard ordered Mos–
tovskoy to wipe his boots on the mat and did so himself at great length.
Mostovskoy was out of breath from climbing the stairs. He tried to
control his breathing.
They set off down a strip of carpet that ran down the corridor.
The lamps - small, semi-transparent tulips - gave a warm, calm
light. They walked past a polished door with a small board saying
"Kommandant" and stopped in front of another door with a board
saying "Obersturmbannfiihrer Liss ."
Mostovskoy had heard the name "Liss" many times: he was
Himmler's representative in the camp administration. Mostovskoy
was quite amused: General Gudz had been annoyed that he had
only been interrogated by one of Liss's assistants while Osipov had
been interrogated by Liss himself. Gudz had seen this as a slight to
the military command.
Osipov had said that Liss had interrogated him without an in–
terpreter; he was a German from Riga with a good knowledge of
Russian.
A young officer came out , said a few words to the guard and let
Mostovskoy into the office. He left the door open .
The office was almost empty. The floor was carpeted. There
was a vase of flowers on the table and a picture on the wall: peasant
houses by the edge of a forest , with red tiled roofs .
Mostovskoy thought it was like being in the office of the direc–
tor of a slaughterhouse . Not far away were dying animals, steaming
entrails and people being spattered with blood, but the office itself
was peaceful and softly carpeted - only the black telephone on the
desk served to remind you of the world outside.
Enemy! That word was so clear and simple . Once again he
thought of Chernetsov - what a wretched fate during this time of
Sturm and Drang!
Though he did wear kid gloves . . . Mostovskoy
glanced at his own hands, his own fingers .
The door opened at the far end of the office. There was a creak
from the door into the corridor- the orderly must have shut it as he
saw Liss come in.
Mostovskoy stood there and frowned.
"Good evening!" said the quiet voice of a short man with SS in–
signia on the sleeves of his grey uniform .
There was nothing repulsive about Liss's face, and for that very
