Bernard shook his head. “All but Chaim. I don’t think he’s coming.”
“I understand,” Dr. Weisman said. “It’s too emotional for him to see a visa with his name on it and know that he can’t have it.”
“The visa shouldn’t have his name on it,” Bernard said. “It’s there because he paid a criminal to put it there. I feel bad for Chaim, but I feel bad for a lot of people who are stuck in this camp. You can’t buy your way out.”
They waited fifteen more minutes. Bernard checked his watch and said, “Chaim is obviously not coming; we need to leave.”
As they drove through the night toward Wolfratshausen, Bernard glanced at Eli, who was nervously opening and clenching his fists. “Do you really think he has information about Esther?”
Eli nodded. “Oh, yeah. He would know.”
The group rolled into Wolfratshausen and stopped a block from the café. Olga, David, Zygmund and Dr. Weisman walked into the restaurant. Two plainclothes MPs were already sitting at the bar. Daniel pulled his collar up, hung an unlit cigarette from his lips and took a position at the corner. Bernard and Eli remained in the jeep, out of sight.
At 9:30 Zygmund stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. He and Daniel strolled over to the jeep. “Max hasn’t come in yet,” Zygmund said. “How long do you want us to wait?”
“We wait a while longer,” Daniel said. “He could have been delayed. From what I hear, he’s a moneygrubbing thief. He’ll be here. Let’s wait.”
At 10:30 they called it a night. Max was a no-show.
“It was Chaim,” Bernard said. “There’s not a doubt in my mind. Chaim tipped him off in exchange for his visa, and he’s on his way to America. And I doubt we’ll ever see Max at Föhrenwald again.”
Eli slammed his hand on the back of the seat. “Damn! I really thought, after all this time, I’d get closer to finding Esther. Bernard, if Max is still in Germany, we’ve got to catch him.”
“Olga said he was just in Landsberg or Feldafing, and if so then he’s still in the Munich area. Unfortunately, I have no connection with the administrators of either of those camps. I’m going to have to contact OMGUS.”
“Who?”
“Office of the Military Government. General Lucius D. Clay is the acting American military governor and chief administrator of occupied Germany. I met him at his office in Berlin. I’m sure he’ll be happy to shut down a black-market visa operation. If anyone can throw a dragnet over Max, it’s General Clay. I will try to arrange something in the next few weeks.”
“I’ll tell you something, Bernard. I’m going to catch up to Maximilian Poleski if I have to follow him to the ends of the earth. You have my solemn promise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FÖHRENWALD DP CAMP
AMERICAN ZONE
DECEMBER 1946
Bulletins posted throughout the camp promoted next Sunday’s winter social. Come one, come all. Volunteers were sought for decorating the hall. Experienced and inexperienced cooks were earnestly invited to bake festival cookies and cakes in the camp kitchen. The posters also announced that Adinah Szapiro would be performing her vocal artistry on stage.
Earlier in the week, Eli had received a message from Bernard. Regretfully, he would not be in attendance at the winter social. He asked that Eli stand in for him and convey his best wishes to all. Such a note was totally out of character for Bernard, and Eli feared that something was wrong. Bernard would never duck a responsibility, especially one so pleasurable. Eli decided to pay him a visit. Bernard lived in the easternmost section of the camp in a small four-unit structure at the corner of Illinois and Michigan Streets.
A light snow had fallen and covered the walkway and stoop in front of Bernard’s residence, which Eli noticed had not been cleared away. He knocked on the door, waited and knocked again. He was about to leave when the door opened a crack. “I’m sorry, Eli, I’m not up to visitors today. I’m a little under the weather.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I received your note, and of course I will be happy to sub for you Sunday night, but it’s only Tuesday, Maybe you’ll feel better by the weekend.”
“Perhaps,” he started to say, but he broke into a racking cough and couldn’t finish the sentence. In a hoarse whisper he added, “You should go now.”
Eli headed straight to the clinic. He didn’t know whether Dr. Weisman was aware of Bernard’s condition. If he was not, Eli was going to make damn sure he found out. It was obvious that Bernard needed immediate medical attention.
The clinic was crowded. People were standing in the waiting room. Babies were crying. Nurses and attendants, their faces covered with surgical masks, busily darted from station to station. “Are you ill, Eli?” the receptionist asked.
“No, no I’m not. I wonder if I could have a few minutes with Dr. Weisman. It’s not about me.”
She gestured to the waiting area with an outstretched arm. “We are really busy today. Dr. Weisman is in with a patient right now and others are waiting. Maybe, if it’s not an emergency, you could come back tomorrow, but I have to say, it seems like every day just gets busier than the one before.”
“Can I wait? Does Joel take a lunch?”
The receptionist smiled. “Never.”
Eli sighed. “What time does he go home?”
Again, a smile, this time with a touch of sadness. She pointed to a room. “There’s a bed in that room. Sometimes he doesn’t go home at all.”
Eli shrugged and turned to leave. “You might try coming by at eight tonight,” the receptionist said.
On his way home, Eli stopped by Daniel’s apartment. “Did you know Bernard was sick?” Eli asked.
He nodded. “I was with him on Shabbat. He did not look good. He asked me if I could handle some of his duties this week. I told him that he should ask you instead. You’re better with crowds. It’s easier for you to talk to them. I haven’t seen Bernard in three days.”
“I was at his home today. He’s really sick, Daniel. I’m going to track down Joel Weisman tonight and make sure he knows. Somebody should be taking care of Bernard. He lives alone.”
Eli returned to the clinic at eight and there were still a few patients waiting. He took a seat and picked up a copy of the Bamidbar. The receptionist walked over and handed a mask to him. “Please put this on. It helps to minimize exposure. Droplets in the air do not penetrate the mask. Better safe than sorry.”
The last of the patients was seen forty minutes later, and Dr. Weisman emerged from the double doors. “Eli, are you okay?” Eli nodded and said, “Can I walk you home?”
The doctor grabbed his winter coat and they headed out the door. “I went to visit Bernard Schwartz this afternoon,” Eli said. “He’s sick.”
“I know. He’s in quarantine, Eli. You should avoid contact with him.”
“He has TB?”
Dr. Weisman shrugged. “He has symptoms. We’ll see if he rebounds. Either way, it’s likely he’s contagious. I warned him about going out in public or performing his function as camp director until we’re sure. It’s unhealthy for him in his weakened condition, and we certainly don’t want to expose anyone else to a disease.”