“That’s how he said it?”

“Pretty much word for word.”

“This was before the war.”

“I think he met the boy about 1935.”

“If Walter missed Germany so much, what was stopping him from going back?”

“You know how many times I asked him that? He’d say it was his destiny to be here, so he shouldn’t complain.”

“What’s that mean exactly, his fate? There’s nothing he can do about it?”

“It means there must be something important he’s destined to get involved in. I said to him, ‘You don’t want to go down in history as a meat cutter?’”

“You picked on him like that, didn’t you, and he always thought you were serious.”

“Tell me who you think he looks like,” Honey said. “I don’t mean a movie star.”

Kevin said, “The first time I opened Walter’s file and looked at his picture? I thought, Is this Walter Schoen or Heinrich Himmler?”

“Tell him he looks like Himmler,” Honey said, “Walter nods, lowers his head and says, ‘Thank you.’ Did you know they’re both born the same year, 1900, on the same day, October seventh, in the same hospital in Munich?”

Kevin stared, not saying a word.

“Walter believes he’s Himmler’s twin brother and they were separated at birth.”

“He tell you why?”

“Walter says he and Himmler each have their own destiny, their mission in life. We know what Himmler’s is, don’t we? Kill all the Jews he can find. But Walter-I don’t know-five years ago, still hadn’t found out what he’s supposed to do.”

“He isn’t stupid, is he?”

“He knows how to run a business. His butcher shop always made money. But that was before rationing. I don’t know how he’s doing now.”

“Last summer,” Kevin said, “he bought a farm at auction, a hundred and twenty acres up for back taxes, a house, a barn, and an apple orchard. He said he’s thinking about going into the home-kill business, have a small slaughterhouse and sell as a wholesaler.”