“Who is it? Who is Max’s contact at Landsberg?”
“I was given the name of Shael Bruchstein.”
Pogrund immediately covered his mouth. “Oh no, of all people,” he said. “Shael Bruchstein? Can you be certain?”
“That’s the name Olga gave us.”
Pogrund glanced over at the rabbi and shook his head. “Bruchstein is the last man I’d expect to betray his people. He’s such an integral part of our community. An elected member of the committee.”
“Maybe that’s what makes him such an able facilitator.”
Rabbi Hirsch nodded sadly. “Bruchstein is a leader in this camp and in contact with thousands of our residents. They respect him. They honor him for his countless hours of service. He has helped to make Landsberg a vibrant and influential force among all the displaced persons camps. The organization we know as She’erit haPletah—the Surviving Remnant—was formed right here and maintains its Central European office here in Landsberg, and Bruchstein is on the board.”
“Shael helped bring in people like Jakob Oleski to set up occupational training courses through ORT, the Organization for Rehabilitation and Training, right here in our camp, and Landsberg is ORT’s field headquarters,” Pogrund added. “Shael stood side by side with David Ben-Gurion when he came to Landsberg last year. Why would a man like that engage in an illegal scheme to circumvent our emigration laws?”
“Frau Helstein was getting twenty-five percent,” Eli said. “At six thousand Swiss francs per visa, that’s a lot of reasons why.”
“Ach, it makes me sick to my stomach,” the rabbi said.
“We have to shut him down, but we have to do it discreetly,” Pogrund said. “If the residents learn that one of our most respected leaders is involved in a criminal enterprise, it’ll bring shame upon all the good work we do.”
“We have to do more than stop Bruchstein,” Eli said. “Our mission is twofold: first to catch Max in the act, arrest and prosecute him; and second to force him to reveal the identity of his source. He has a well-placed contact in the United States.”
“Well, you have our complete cooperation.”
“Does Bruchstein live alone?”
Pogrund shook his head. “He lives with a woman. If you want to arrest him, I can take you there.”
“No, I prefer it to be in private, not in a crowded neighborhood.”
“That’s very kind and considerate of you.”
Eli scoffed. “I’m afraid it has nothing to do with kindness. If we arrest him in a public place, in plain sight, the news will get to Max and he’ll never come back here. I’d like you to lure Bruchstein to the administration office. Tell him that you need to meet with him on urgent committee business.”
“He’ll want to know what it’s about,” Rabbi Hirsch said. “What will you tell him?”
Pogrund shook his head. “I don’t know; it’s not in my nature to be deceitful, but I’ll think of something.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
LANDSBERG DP CAMP
AMERICAN ZONE
DECEMBER 1946
Shael Bruchstein arrived at the Landsberg administration office shortly after four o’clock. He shook the snow off his coat, hung it on the rack and greeted Moshe Pogrund and Rabbi Hirsch. Then he turned his attention to the other two men in the room. “I don’t think I know these two gentlemen, Moshe.”
“This is Eli Rosen, a board member at the Föhrenwald Camp, and Major Donnelly, an adjutant to Colonel Bivens at the U.S. Army garrison in Garmisch.”
Bruchstein smiled and shook their hands. “Sounds serious,” he said in a nonserious tone. He pulled up a chair to join the four men sitting around a small conference table. “How can I assist? You said it was urgent committee business, Moshe.” He smiled at Eli and Donnelly, but the smile was not returned.
“I’ll defer to Mr. Rosen,” Moshe said.
Eli gestured to Donnelly. “The major is here to arrest you, Mr. Bruchstein.”
Bruchstein turned white. He looked from face to face and finally settled on Pogrund. “Is this a joke, Moshe? It’s not funny in the least.”
“It is not a joke, Shael. I wish it were.”
“What am I accused of?”
The major leaned forward, took a breath and said flatly, “Conspiring to commit immigration fraud, conspiring to sell stolen documents, willful violation of the laws of the United States Immigration Service and of the American Occupation Zone, solicitation of others to commit an illegal act and aiding and abetting a United States citizen in fraudulently issuing visas for illegal sale to foreign nationals. That’s all I can think of at the moment. I’m sure that the U.S. Attorney will have a much better handle on other included offenses.”
Bruchstein sank into his chair. His hands covered his face. “Olga.”
Rabbi Hirsch nodded. “How could you, Shael? Why?”
“I knew it was wrong. I didn’t do it for myself. I would never have purchased, accepted or used a black-market visa.”
“Oh, but you would take a commission,” Eli said. “I believe that’s equivalent to ‘doing it for yourself.’”
“I didn’t make a cent. If Max paid Olga, none of it ever came to me. I didn’t do it for the money.”
“Then why, Shael?” the rabbi pleaded. “I have known you to be such a good man.”
“What does it matter? I did it. Six times. I’m guilty.” Turning to the major, he said, “Would you permit me to say goodbye to Rachel? We’ve been together for the past year. She’s not very strong, and she depends on me. I’m afraid she’s made a bad choice.”
The rabbi stood. “What does it matter, you say? It matters to me, Shael. You’ve meant so much to our community, sitting on the boards of ORT and She’erit HaPletah. I believed in you. I know you to be a selfless man. I want to know why!”
“It might matter, Mr. Bruchstein,” Eli said. “Depending on the circumstances, we may ask you to do something.”
Bruchstein hung his head. “I’ll cooperate in any way I can.”
“Tell us how this scheme came to Landsberg and how you became involved.”
“It started last June. I was at an ORT conference at Feldafing. Olga Helstein was there as well. She and I have served together on the board for some time. During the day, the conversation got around to immigration quotas, as it usually does at those functions. Why won’t the Allied countries open their borders to Jewish refugees? There are only 250,000 of us. The western countries could easily absorb us without even flinching. Why are the quotas so strict for Jewish refugees when they are so generous to others? I mentioned that a friend of mine at Landsberg was desperate to travel to America. His father was dying in a New York hospital, and he would give anything to spend those last days with him. Then Olga said, ‘If the man is important to you, I can get him a visa. It’ll cost, but I can get it.’”
“Did she mention the name Max or Maximilian?”
“Not at first. She only said she had a source. Six thousand Swiss francs for a genuine U.S. visa.”
“And you told her you would make the arrangements?”