Jim Bookhout was no less than 6 feet tall during the time of my contacts with him at the FBI during the period 1953 until he retired in 1977.
I'll tell you what this amounts to:
- Herr Miller? Herr Peter Miller?
- I wonder if we could talk somewhere? Your room, perhaps?
- We can talk here.
- Of course. My name is Schmidt. Dr. Schmidt.
- What do you want?
- Perhaps we can sit down. A very pleasant hotel, isn't it?
- A little too solid for me. What is it that you want?
- You're a journalist, I am told. With a reputation for being very thorough,
- What of it?
- Some friends of mine heard you are making an inquiry...
...into events that happened a long time ago.
- You mean Eduard Roschmann, don't you?
- I do. I most certainly do.
- Eduard Roschmann is dead!
- I didn't know that.
- Of course you didn't. There's no reason why you should. I thought I'd mention the fact because I didn't want you wasting your time.
-Tell me something, Dr. Schmidt, when exactly did he die?
-In May 1945, fighting the American advance.
- I'm sorry. You'll have to try harder. Roschmann was captured
by the British in December 1947. Didn't your friends brief you properly
when they gave you this errand?
- Drop this inquiry!
- Roschmann was seen alive in Hamburg in November- this year. It was never confirmed. You just confirmed it. Good day, Herr Dr. Schmidt.