"Overly coincidental? What do you mean by that?"
Judging by old Marquis Bertheim's expression, there was clearly something I didn't know. While the old man sank into thought, Göring served herb tea on his behalf. It was lukewarm, but the aroma was lovely.
"You know that I handled the prisoner negotiations, don't you?"
"Viktor told me about what happened back then."
"Among the survivors was a fellow named Jakob."
The old man laid out the strange news he had received. Two weeks ago, Jakob—one of the 13 survivors, who lived in Hissen, a southern village in Rosenheim—had sent him a letter.
The letter said Jakob had been keeping in touch through regular correspondence with comrades who lived in Neudenburg and Denmach, both within Rosenheim. Then one day, the letters stopped coming.
