Sentence The Fivehundredandthirtyfirst

 

Martin Elginbrod sits down again, after the systematic search they had made of the five rooms leading off the corridor, of the bathroom and the doors ate either end – doors which are quite immovable, ensuring that they cannot leave the place; "we must be underground," he says, "we can't hear anything of the outside world, and although we can't find any access, there must be if the food you have told me about appears and if it can be in any of the rooms then each must have it's own access point – unless, of course, you believe in fairies or something supernatural; but we needs must be alert and vigilant," his narcissism has made him adopt the role of leader in this small place of confinement, in the small group of people who had never met before: oh, he had spoken to Boo before, but only by telephone, and he had seen newspaper and television pictures of Roxy Davidova, but she was a politician and he had no time for them (unless they were corruptible, which he knew she wasn't – he wondered what she would be like in bed, though she wasn't his type, being so much older than his preferences, but hey, he thought, needs must and I will deserve my guerdon for going through all this madness; Peter Lorre, of course he recognised from the movies, but he knew that Lorre was dead, so how could he possibly be here – maybe he's just a double who has deluded himself into believing that he really is Lorre, that was more likely, but then, everything about this experience was surreal, so anything might be possible: "what makes you all assume that we are in Germany in the 1930s?" he asked, wondering why he had never asked it before; the man calling himself Lorre answered: "everything here, the furniture, the décor, I recognise it – it is a film set, except that each room has four walls. but that could easily be manufactured; it is all from a film I

made before I left Germany in '33 and even the books in the drawers come from that film, and the food is German; I have lived in United States since I left and the so-called German food there is not quite right, so I have no doubt that that is where we are, here; I don't believe in fairies or ghosts or gods, only in the world I can see and touch and smell and listen to and taste, and all my senses tell me that this is so," he looked round at the faces and smiled, for the first time since Roxy arrived: "but there is no sign of the Nazis – the SA or the SS – so that is good," and Roxy reached out and took his hand, giving it a little squeeze; suddenly, they heard a scuffle, a female cry, and a door slam: instantly Peter Boo ran into the corridor and stopped short – there were two women lying beside one of the end

doors, both seemingly shot in the head, but still breathing, "help, Roxy, Martin, Peter too, and he rushed to the prostrate figures, soon joined by the others, and together they carried them to two of the rooms and laid them carefully on the beds; that was when Peter Lorre said: "I recognise them, the younger is Geli Raubal, Hitler's niece, she committed suicide in 1931 and the other is Unity Mitford, she tried in 1939 but survived; how much more proof do you need that we are in Germany?" and Elginbrod used to getting his druthers, bristled at that and retorted, like the Advocate he is: "by the same token, as three of us are from Scotland in 2016 and you were in America before you woke up here, we can therefore assert just as confidently that we are in Scotland! and you can put that in your pipe and smoke it, you little Jewish twat!"