“Where and when did the meeting take place?”
“Last May, outside the camp, in Wolfratshausen. I waited in a coffee shop. He walked in, and I knew in a minute it was him. He was dressed very classy—a long coat with a satin collar. He said his name was Max, but I already knew that. He quoted six thousand Swiss francs. I told him I had stones worth twice that. I showed him the stones; he examined the diamond and the sapphire, made a sour face and shook his head. He said, ‘Chaim, they’re not worth six thousand francs, but as a favor to Mort, I’ll take them and get you your visa.’
“I cried, Bernard. I broke down right then and there and cried like a little boy. I asked him when I’d get it. He said it might take a few weeks. Now it’s been three months, and I haven’t seen or heard from him.”
“Can you describe him?” Eli said.
“Fairly tall. Thin. Glasses. Short black hair. He wasn’t an American, I can tell you that. He spoke German, but with a Polish accent. I know I was foolish to give him the stones, but Mort is living in New York. Somehow this guy has the right connections.”
“Don’t punish yourself, Chaim. Bastards like Max prey on vulnerable people in desperate times. All he needed to do was complete a single transaction, and people would line up to give him their money.”
“That’s true. I did.”
Bernard turned his attention to the other man. “And you, David, is the story the same?”
“Pretty much, except that I met Max here at Föhrenwald. It was Frau Helstein who told me about him. I was out for my morning walk with Shmuel and she joined up with us. Naturally, we were complaining about how long it takes to get immigration certificates, and she said, ‘I know a man who can cut through the red tape and get you a U.S. visa right away, if you’re interested.’ We laughed, but she was insistent. ‘I know what I’m talking about,’ she said. Shmuel said, ‘Then why don’t you have a visa? Why are you still here walking with us in a DP camp?’ The question didn’t faze her. ‘I’m in no hurry,’ she said, ‘but I can arrange a meeting for you if you want.’ Shmuel scoffed and walked away, but I told her I would talk to the man. She set up a meeting.”
“Tell us, David,” Bernard said, “what happened at the meeting?”
“It was me, Frau Helstein and Max. He said he’d get me two visas for twelve thousand Swiss francs. I said I don’t have that kind of money. We talked a little longer, and he said he would do two visas for ten thousand. I didn’t have that much either, but I told him I would pay him after I got a job in America. Then he put his hand on my shoulder, like I was his good friend, and he said, ‘How much can you come up with as a down payment? I’ll take the rest in installments once you get settled in America.’ I said two thousand. He said that would be okay, he would order the visa and work out the balance with me. I gave him the two thousand and I haven’t seen him since.” David hung his head. “Don’t I feel like a schmuck.”
Bernard stood. “Thank you both for coming in to talk to us. Don’t lose hope. Your names are still on the official immigration list here at Föhrenwald. God willing, all of us will soon get a visa.”
When they had left, Bernard turned to Eli. “We need to pay Frau Helstein a visit.”
“Yes, we do. I have to pick up Izaak at football practice, but I can meet you there at seven.”
“That will be fine. How is young Izaak doing?”
“He’s too smart for me, Bernard.”
Bernard laughed. “They grow up fast, don’t they? I think they’re smarter than we were at that age. Of course, they’ve seen things that children should never, ever see. They ask hard questions.”
“That they do. The other night he asked why the U.S. doesn’t bring us into the States and let us earn a living instead of housing and feeding us in displaced persons camps? You can’t fault his logic. How do I answer that?”
“You could tell him the truth. You could tell him that the U.S. changed its immigration policy in 1924, restricting visas for Central and Eastern Europe while increasing them for Britain and Northern Europe. You know what that was all about. Flat out prejudice. Romania, with a million Jews, was given a quota of 377 at the same time that Britain’s quota was raised to 65,000.”
“I’m not going to tell my son that it’s hard to get visas because of prejudice in the U.S.”
“Not just the U.S., Eli. Canada needs farmworkers and industrial workers, everybody knows that, but Mackenzie King’s government doesn’t want to admit Jewish refugees. The head of Canadian immigration stated, ‘None is too many.’ But you’re right, you can’t tell your kid that the world is prejudiced against him. He’s had enough of that here in Europe.”
* * *
Eli watched Izaak run toward the sideline. He ran with abandon, with all the boundless energy of a healthy twelve-year-old. A smile spread from ear to ear. His shorts and shin guards evidenced an afternoon of mixing it up on the dirt and grass of the football field.
“How did it go today?”
“Good. We have a game Sunday with the team from the American army base. It will be tough because they have a fifteen-year-old. Josh is our oldest player, and he won’t be fourteen until next May. Do you know that the Americans call it soccer, not football?”
“I’ve heard that. I’m sure you’ll do fine Sunday.”
“I hope so. We were missing three players at practice today.”
“How come? Did they also leave Föhrenwald?”
Izaak shook his head. “Nah, they were sick. They had a cold or something.”
“Izzie, do you remember what I told you about kids that are coughing?”
“I know, I know. Stay away, wash my hands. I don’t want to catch their germs.”
“That’s right, and if someone has a really bad cough, you should tell me about it.”
“Why? You’re not a doctor, Papa.”
“That’s true, but I would pass the information on to Dr. Weisman and make sure that the sick person gets medical help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
FÖHRENWALD DP CAMP
AMERICAN ZONE
AUGUST 1946
Olga Helstein was startled when she answered the doorbell to find Bernard and Eli standing there. “Oh, hello, Director, what brings you by tonight? What can I do for the committee?”
“Are you busy, Olga?”
“I, uh, I was just listening to the radio.” She pointed to her bookcase. “The Kraft Music Hour.”
“Could you spare us a few minutes, please,” he said, walking straight past her without waiting for an answer. Olga backtracked a few steps and nervously gestured toward her kitchen table. “Of course, Director. We can all sit right here. May I offer you each a cup of tea?”
“Thank you, Olga. Very kind of you. I think you know Eli Rosen?”
“Not really.”
“Well, Eli is helping me with a very serious problem, and we thought maybe you could help as well.”
Bernard watched as Olga moved about her kitchen. It was obvious she could feel their stares. Their eyes were locked on her. She became more and more unsettled as she went through the motions of setting a pot of tea on the stove. Her facial muscles twitched. When she brought the teacups to the table, they rattled in her hands.