“Don’t we know Maximilian’s home address?”
Izaak was holding tightly to Eli’s trousers. Eli stooped down and gently said, “Izzie, I’m going to find Mama. I want you to stay here with Grandpa.” Izaak’s lips were quivering, and his eyes were full of tears. “I don’t want to stay,” he said. “I want to find Mama, too.”
Eli hugged him tightly. “I know you do, but I need for you to stay with Grandpa for a little while.”
* * *
Maximilian lived in a large house that had been confiscated from its Jewish owners three months previous. Eli knew that Maximilian lived there with his new girlfriend, a seventeen-year-old brunette. The circumstances of that union were unclear, but many feared that she wasn’t there because she was fond of Maximilian. Eli took the delivery truck and drove straight to the house. He rapped on the door, yelling “Maximilian, open up. It’s Eli.”
The door swung partially open, and Maximilian stood in the doorway in his shorts and stocking feet. He was clearly annoyed. “What in the world are you doing here, Eli?”
“Esther. They took Esther and Klara this afternoon. The Jew Hunters.”
“Hmm,” Maximilian mumbled and nodded his understanding. “That could be. I heard they would be working in your part of town. They’re rounding up laborers for the workshops they built at Lindenstrasse.” He gestured off to the south. “You know, Lipowa Street. We’ve opened sewing shops making clothing for the army. They need women.”
“We’ve opened?”
“You know what I mean. The bosses at headquarters have opened them. Not me personally.”
“You knew they were going to sweep my neighborhood and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know they would take Esther. They’re supposed to leave her alone.”
“Well, then, put on your shoes. We’re going to get her.”
Maximilian glanced back where a young woman stood in a semi-transparent nightgown. He shook his head. “Not tonight. I’ll look into it tomorrow.”
“You son of a bitch,” Eli said through clenched teeth. “I swear I’ll strangle you right here on this doorstep.”
Maximilian was amused. “Really, then who would rescue your sweet Esther? Face it, Eli. You need me. I said I’ll check into it tomorrow. There’s nothing I can do tonight. The people I know won’t be in until tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t understand. Esther is a sweet, gentle woman. These Nazis are animals. They abuse women like Esther and her sister.”
“They have her sister, too?”
Eli nodded. “Klara.”
Maximilian raised his eyebrows and whistled softly. “That makes the assignment doubly difficult. Getting one person out is hard enough, but two? I can tell you right now it’ll take some money. I might have to grease the wheels, if you know what I mean.”
“You bastard. You saw it coming and let it happen. You were supposed to protect us.”
“That is a decidedly unfair accusation, Eli, but I’ll overlook it, given your current hysteria. I knew nothing of Esther’s selection. I have always sought to protect the Rosens. Do you still live in your home? Do you go to work every day? Give me some credit. Get some money together and meet me at the brickyard first thing tomorrow morning. I can’t guarantee anything—you know the way those Nazis are—but I’ll see what I can do.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LUBLIN, POLAND
APRIL 1940
Tomorrow morning could not come soon enough. The wait seemed interminable. Whatever patience Eli possessed had long since abandoned him. Every muscle in his body was tied in a knot. He paced back and forth, a hyena trapped in a cage. He checked the wall clock every few minutes, urging the hands to move more quickly. He was disturbed that little Izaak had borne witness to his father’s panic; there was an observable chink in the armor. How would his son process his father’s vulnerability? As it was, Izaak was too frightened to be left alone in his bed and he fell asleep on the couch.
Eli opened the icebox for a glass of water only to see the Sunday dinner that Esther had planned to cook. He walked into the dark living room and sat in the overstuffed chair, remembering the day that Esther was so excited to find it at the little store.
“Everything I do has you written on it, Essie,” he said aloud. “You’re a part of every breath I take, every dream I ever had.” He clenched his fists. “Esther, sweetheart, hang on. I’m coming for you. I promise.”
At 5:00 a.m. he could wait no longer, and he left for the brickyard. He put Izaak in the office and pulled up a folding chair to wait outside the doorway. Maximilian didn’t arrive until ten o’clock. He casually strolled up wearing an expensive, fur-trimmed Chesterfield topcoat, new shoes and a felt hat, tipped slightly to the right. Sartorial elegance. A portrait of confidence. It only served to magnify Eli’s anger.
“Do you have what I need?” Maximilian said with an air of aloofness.
“Here’s a thousand zloty,” Eli said, handing Maximilian an envelope.
Maximilian shrugged. “Hmm. I hope it’s enough. A thousand Polish zloty doesn’t go very far these days. Stay here. As soon as I know something, I’ll come back.”
* * *
Maximilian returned two hours later. “I was right, of course. She was taken to Lindenstrasse, to a sewing facility. I believe the workers there are sewing military uniforms.”
“Well, where is she?”
He scoffed. “Did you hear what I said? At Lindenstrasse. Sewing.”
“You were supposed to get her out and bring her here,” Eli said. “I gave you a thousand zloty. Where is she?”
“Sewing, Eli, and you can put away that Rosen arrogance. It won’t do you any good. I am your only hope. I’ll go at four o’clock, when her shift is over. I can’t walk into a working factory in the middle of the day and pull a worker off her shift.”
“This is my wife, damn it. She doesn’t have a shift.”
“She does now. Four o’clock, Eli. I’ll bring her to you.”
“Four o’clock, and you’ll do what’s necessary to see that she’s finished sewing at Lipowa.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy. These women have been assigned to positions at a workshop and the assignment is permanent, not temporary, not hourly. Every day, seven days a week. Their names are written on a permanent labor record and Globočnik reviews it. The Lipowa camp has a commandant and he also reviews it. It’s written in stone, Eli.”
“I don’t want her there.”
“Would you rather she be sent to Burggraben? That’s where they’re sending a lot of the recruited workers.”
“Recruited?”
Maximilian snickered. “Sort of, in a way.”
Eli’s right arm shot out, grabbed Maximilian by the lapels of his fur-trimmed Chesterfield overcoat, lifted him off the ground and shoved him back into the wall. “You son of a bitch, don’t you dare make light of this. Don’t you dare give me a smirk. This is my wife! You promised to protect us. We gave you our business and twelve thousand five hundred worth of prepayment to be our protector, remember? This morning I gave you an extra thousand zloty.”