Simon Wiesen­thal is gone, but Efraim Zuroff car­ries on his work, described here truth­ful­ly but with a novelist’s abil­i­ty to employ dra­ma, char­ac­ter­i­za­tions, and descrip­tion so that this account com­mu­ni­cates the frus­tra­tion and occa­sion­al tri­umphs of track­ing down Nazi mur­der­ers, many of whom now live in com­fort and lux­u­ry. It reads like fic­tion, but unlike fic­tion, it is sad­ly truth­ful and describes frus­trat­ing fail­ures, most­ly due to lack of coop­er­a­tion by the gov­ern­ments in ques­tion, as well as suc­cess­es. Just by tar­get­ing them, flush­ing them out from their cov­ers, Zuroff achieves a cer­tain lev­el of vic­to­ry, even if they are not ulti­mate­ly impris­oned. Zuroff may not car­ry a spear or a shield, but he is a true war­rior search­ing for jus­tice and retribution.