Herman Bachrach fails to follow his father's advice not to let his sex drive get him into trouble so when he lets himself be seduced by a mysterious woman who calls herself Diana, his life spins out of control. He is trapped into the search for an old war criminal that leads to epiphany.
Born of a Jewish father and a Catholic mother, Herman Bachrach insists he has no religion, but he is drawn by circumstance into a holocaust vendetta over gold stolen by a Swiss bank from Jewish depositors. Seduced by a woman who calls herself Diana, no last name, Herman is suspected by detective Sheehan to be her murderer. Someone else wants him dead. His Jewish boss provides him with a lawyer, but sends him to Switzerland to finish the job “Diana” started. It’s an assignment he can’t refuse. The result is an epiphany of identity that changes Herman’s life forever. Sold in three formats: ISBN 0-9705390-7-X, unabridged on seven 60 minute audio cassettes. $35 retail, library price $30, in CD format, 6 CDs, ISBN 5-0-9705390-8-8 at same price. Quality paperback edition, ISBN 1-894869-20-6. $15 from Zumaya Publications. Cover art by Martine Jardin.
Excerpt
Ever have something happen to you and while it’s happening you know that from this moment on your life is never going to be the same? Like you’re in an accident and know you’re paralyzed? For me, it happened this way: the Union Bank was having a grand opening. My boss Gabe Cohen, a.k.a. God, wanted me to take some unusual photos for Banking Insider, one of his trade magazines.
I had the Hasselblad on a tripod in the lobby with the 180 degree fisheye lens. It distorts the image, but the effect can be dramatic. Through the viewfinder I saw the revolving door turn. A woman emerged. I waited for her to walk out of the field, but she didn’t. She walked right up to the camera. I looked up.
That was it. It’s hard for me to explain. I’m a photographer, not a romance writer. You know those clichés: “their eyes met across the room,” as if eyes were flying about, giving greetings. This woman had incredible sultry eyes like Ava Gardner in those black and white late night reruns on television. That would be intriguing enough if they weren’t looking right into mine. I felt like the bird on a limb that sees the cat staring from down below and is so mesmerized that it falls right off the branch. Bye by birdie. Those eyes said “follow me,” and God help me, I did. Nothing’s been the same since.
Until then, being a photographer, I was used to seeing the world through a lens. The viewfinder makes you an observer, not a participant. After meeting that woman, I became part of the action.
Even as I was following her out of the Union Bank part of me was asking, “Why me? Why has this gorgeous, sexy woman fixed on me for whatever?”
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