“I’ll fix him something to eat. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t want to keep you too late, Adinah. You were very kind to offer, but you have your own responsibilities and your own plans for tonight. If I’m not here, Izzie can go to bed and you can leave.”
“Please do not worry about me or my plans. I have no place to be tonight. I live alone and I have no responsibilities. So take whatever time is necessary to finish your business. Believe me, I will enjoy spending time with Izaak.”
Bernard had arranged for a jeep, and Eli pulled out of Föhrenwald just before the sun rose. The route to the U.S. Army garrison took him east to Munich and then south to Garmisch. It was a two-hour drive through the German countryside. The weather was clear and the roads were dry. Soon the tall peaks of the Bavarian Alps came into view. The largest mountain in Germany, Zugspitze, a ten-thousand-foot snow-capped peak, rose majestically behind the alpine village of Garmisch.
The army garrison lay on the outskirts of the village and was surrounded by a security fence. Eli stopped at the guard post, showed his U.S. DP identification card and waited while the sentry called Colonel Bivens. The young corporal put down the phone and said, “The colonel’s adjutant confirms that you are on his calendar, but the colonel has not come in yet. You are welcome to wait at the commissary.”
“Did the adjutant say when the colonel would be in?” Eli asked.
“No, sir.” A smile crept across the sentry’s lips. “Welcome to the army, sir.”
Eli took a seat in the commissary and spent the next few hours reading magazines and back issues of Stars & Stripes. Every so often, Eli would ask the desk sergeant if he wouldn’t mind checking on the colonel’s availability. A call would be placed, and the answer would always be a polite, “Not yet, sir.” After Eli’s fourth request, the sergeant said, “Mr. Rosen, the colonel’s adjutant knows you are waiting here, and he will give me a call as soon as the colonel can see you. Sorry for the inconvenience, sir.”
At four thirty, Eli got the high sign from the sergeant. “I’ll take you back to his office now, sir,” he said.
Colonel Bivens, a decorated officer with white hair and a square jaw, was seated behind his polished desk. Over his left shoulder was a picture of General Eisenhower and to his right was a picture of President Truman. Colonel Bivens wore a crisply pressed uniform with four rows of service ribbons. He did not get up to greet Eli.
“Take a seat, Mr. Rosen,” he said flatly. “What brings you down to Garmisch?”
“Thank you, sir. I live in the Föhrenwald Displaced Persons Camp. I’ve lived there since I was rescued from the Buchenwald concentration camp by the American forces in 1945. Like all of the Föhrenwald residents, my son and I are waiting for a visa to go to America.”
The colonel had a confused expression on his face. “And you came to me to get a visa?”
“Oh, no, sir. My name is on the waiting list, like everyone else. I came here because there is a man, I believe his name is Maximilian Poleski, who is attempting to sell American visas on the black market.”
A disbelieving grin appeared on the colonel’s face. “United States immigration visas? He’s selling them? Hmph. Impossible. They’re issued through the immigration office in Washington and distributed through consulates. No one sells visas.”
“With all due respect, sir, this man is selling visas for six thousand Swiss francs apiece. And we believe they are genuine.”
The colonel sat back in his chair and his smile disappeared. “You know, when people disagree with me and they say ‘with all due respect,’ I wonder what the hell that means. I don’t think that phrase is respectful at all. I think it’s pejorative. Due respect? What does it mean, Mr. Rosen, when you say you’re giving me due respect?”
Eli started to apologize, but Bivens cut him off. He pointed to his chest. “You see these service ribbons? They were awarded to me by the United States Army. These ribbons demand respect. Not some vague ‘all due respect,’ but real respect. See this one here, the red one with the blue stripe and the star? That’s a Bronze Star, Mr. Rosen, awarded for meritorious service in a combat zone. Do you think that commands respect?”
“Of course, sir.”
“You better believe it.”
Eli paused and took a breath, wondering how to get the conversation back on point. “Well, sir, getting back to the visas, the man who calls himself Max is going from one American DP camp to another and selling these visas, and people are giving him money and property. The administration at Camp Föhrenwald wants to put a stop to it.”
“Then go ahead. What do you want me to do about it?”
“We don’t have the authority to arrest and prosecute the man. We need to enlist the assistance of the U.S. Army, which has plenary jurisdiction over the camps in this district. Not only do we want Max prosecuted, we want to know who is providing him with the visas.”
Bivens nodded and pursed his lips. “Hmm. Well, let me tell you something about my priorities, Mr. Rosen. My job here is fivefold.” For Eli’s benefit, he counted the priorities on his fingers. “One, the elimination of Nazism, which is still very strong here in the Munich area; two, to seek restitution for people who have unjustly been deprived of their identifiable property; three, to assist in rebuilding the local economy, banking, foreign exchange and currency; four, to reestablish a system of justice in these parts; and five, to provide security for German citizens and for your DP camps. So to be honest, Mr. Rosen, if some twerp is scamming the system and letting a few people skip ahead in the line, I frankly don’t give a shit.”
Eli stood. “Well, thank you for your time, sir. I will report the results of our conversation to General Clay.”
“You’ll what?”
“General Clay sent me to you.”
Bivens sat up straight. “Lucius Clay directed you to talk to me?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, damn, why didn’t you say so? What does Lucius want me to do?”
“Well, as I was saying, sir, he wants Max arrested, charged and tried for black-market visa sales.”
Colonel Bivens nodded. His expression slowly changed to warm and considerate. He reached into an inlaid wooden box on his desk and took out two cigars. He offered one to Eli, but Eli politely declined. The colonel cut the end off of his cigar and lit it. “So where is this fellow, Max, now?”
“At this moment, I don’t know. We think he will soon be at Camp Landsberg and maybe at Camp Feldafing. He has contacted residents there who are raising money to buy his visas.”
The colonel rubbed his chin. “Do you know what he looks like? Can you ID him?”
“If he’s the same man I knew in Lublin, then yes I can.”
The colonel pressed a button on his intercom and said, “Send in Major Donnelly.” Then he looked across his desk at Eli. “We’ll catch this fellow and put an end to his monkey business; you can take that to the bank. When you talk to Lucius, you tell him George says hello and that I’m on top of this assignment, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
A few minutes later, Major Donnelly entered the office. Eli explained Max’s operation. “Last month we set up a sting in Wolfratshausen,” Eli said, “but unfortunately someone tipped Max off and he didn’t appear. We know that he has contracted to sell visas at two other camps within the next few weeks. We’ll need the U.S. Army to act quickly and take him into custody.”