Enemy of the Tzar

by Lester S. Taube

  On the way back, he gave her a windbreaker to ward off the evening chill, and let her take the wheel. He pointed out the compass course to head on, and then stood by her side. After a time of quiet sailing, he placed an arm around her waist and drew her head against his shoulder. It was so calm, with the sound of a sail flap and the twang of a line against the mast and the rush of the water. He changed course now and then, his hands covering hers on the wheel.

  In a short while, the pounding of her heart slowed, and she even shut her eyes to better smell the night air and to feel the comfort of a shoulder to lean on and the wind in her hair.

  He moved, and then his lips closed on hers. She drew away abruptly and shook her head. “My husband, Stephen, may be dead because of me,” she said gently. “Alive or dead, it will not change anything.”

  He nodded with understanding and took over the controls. As they approached the turn into shore where two lights glowed from Jules’ dock, he turned towards her. “The night should not end now,” he said softly.

  “It has to end,” she said, just as gently.

  “Until Stuttgart?” he asked.

  “If you wish. But please remember–I gave away my heart many years ago. It will never be mine to give away again.”

  CHAPTER 34

  In August, Hanna was awarded a two hundred thousand mark contract by Fergl. Totally undaunted, she leased the entire floor of a huge industrial complex and advertised for first class machine operators. As busy as she was, she kept up her practice of interviewing all workers herself, and within a month, had two shifts of over thirty each. Operations, though, was only a part of the business now, for more time was being spent with bankers and suppliers and bookkeepers than with inspecting seams.

  At the start, she called her two cutters into her office. “I want you to cut everything one-half centimeter fuller,” she told them.

  Abraham, the cutter loaned to her over seven months ago by Fergl, now part of her permanent team, squirmed on his chair. “We’ll waste a lot more material,” he remarked.

  “I realize that, but the new girls will need a couple of weeks of experience. I do not want to reopen crooked seams. That takes time. We will just sew over them.”

  The two cutters thought it over and nodded their agreement with the idea.

  “What about Herr Fergl?” asked Abraham. “Like I said, he will have to provide more material.”

  “I will discuss it with him,” said Hanna. “I just will not have anything leave here without it being exactly right.”

  Fergl was not cooperative. “That half-centimeter is nothing on one shirt,” he explained, “but on over one hundred and fifty thousand, it eats up a lot of material. Furthermore, that contract must be completed in twelve months. If you use your sixty operators on just that order, it will take sixteen months. And you have other contracts to complete. I hope you understand that the situation will not get better as time goes by. The answer is that you need more operators. I have over four hundred now, and I’m still having trouble finding proper people.”

  Hanna sat back in her chair, thinking. “Can you spare some space and ten machines?” she asked.

  He eyed her thoughtfully. After several months of watching her operate, he had grown to respect her judgment. “Yes, I can provide that.”

  “I have a fine assistant. She is young, but she has the knack to teach and supervise others. I will set up classes to teach women to sew–our way. I will pay them only one third while they are learning. But instead of each one being taught to make a shirt, I will divide the work into five parts. In that manner, each one does not have to learn very much–only one fifth. By that means, I can train them in two weeks or so. Back in my shop, I will keep the teams together. In two or three months, I can double my force with trained women.

  Fergl was enchanted. “Very good, Hanna. I wish I had thought of your idea long ago.”

  “You would have to shut down much of your production to make changes now,” she said. “What do you think? Is the idea acceptable to you?”

  “More than acceptable. Would you like to experiment with twice the number of people? I’ll provide the machines, materials, and pay half the costs – if I can have half of the workers.”

  She grinned at him. “If I can have my one-half centimeter.”

  His seamed face broke into a smile. “All right, Hanna. But only for one month. I’ll tell my inventory people to approve the extra material.”

  The system worked well. Elfriede was a hard taskmaster, and only eight out of ten passed her training. Hanna placed the graduates at the rear of her lines, and appointed a supervisor just for them. At the end of one week, they produced as many shirts as the same number of trained women, but with less errors and faulty sewing, and at the end of the third week, they were turning out fifteen percent more than her best operators.

  Hanna was elated. She then experimented with forming teams among her regular employees, the most qualified becoming the ‘lead operator’, who was paid extra for watching over her girls in addition to doing her own work. The inspectors soon reported that the teams’ production required fewer corrections, and the shift managers stated that production was up considerably.

  Hanna was working day and night now, but she absolutely refused to change her schedule of being with the Weiners as much as possible, especially with Paul. At times she was hard-pressed to decide whether the days would be worth facing without the boy. He was the focus of her life now, the son that she and Stephen might have had, had she not seen the men watching the house that night. A movement from the corner of an eye, and so many lives have been lost. She often thanked her lucky stars that Natalie was eager to share her family with her.

  There was no time to take streetcars any longer. Instead, she hired taxis, paying more each week for transportation than Jakob had earned.

  In September, she went for a weekend to Jules’ house on the Bodensee to visit with the families. “Can’t you take off more than a weekend?” asked Jules while they were sitting about enjoying the fresh air. She seemed in good spirits, but he could see she was fatigued.

  “Impossible,” she replied, fighting to hold open her eyes. “I am in the midst of forming teams. In addition, I must move equipment about, redesign the flow of materials, even change the overhead lighting. The longer I wait, the more drag it places upon the entire operation. Freidrich knows what I am talking about.”

  Fergl grunted in accord. He studied her closely. “You are fascinated with what you are doing, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.

  “Of course I am. Ever since I was twelve years old, I have sat cross-legged sewing stitches. Each stitch meant food for my family or wood for the stove or clothes on our backs. In Königsberg and Garmisch, I sat at a machine for ten to twelve hours each day for many of the same reasons. But there has been one extra, very important objective since the day I arrived in Stuttgart.”

  “Finding your family?”

  “Yes. My heart breaks every time I think of what they may be going through. Now I can make the kind of money to open doors that were far out of reach.”

  “If it was money, we would have helped,” said Jules, taken aback. “We would have given you whatever you needed.”

  She began to cry, anguished sobs. “Oh, God,” she wailed, releasing the depths of her emotions. “None of you will ever understand. I tore their lives apart! I have to pay for my stupidity.”

  Natalie reached out and took the hand of her dear and beloved friend. “You only tried to save Levi.” she said, doing her best to be comforting.

  “He died anyway,” said Hanna, wiping her tears. “The children are still paying.”

  Everyone was quiet for a few moments, reflecting. “I guess we never knew how very deeply you felt,” said Fergl finally.

  “Freidrich, I eat well; sleep well; I am warm. I have nice clothes, a clean room. Yet, I would give it all up in an instant and walk in bare feet and sit crossed-legged the rest of my days if I could have the children bac
k safe and well.”

  “What have you been doing about this?” he asked.

  “The detective agency in Königsberg has sent in four men this time to search for them. Until now, it was not a major undertaking. Why do you think I have not yet bought a car or moved to a nice apartment? If conditions at the plant continue, in six months or a year, I will be able to have him send twenty men into Russia.”

  They sat in silence again as the breeze swept through the yard. “How about some political help?” asked Fergl. “I know a few gentlemen in the diplomatic service. Some of them should certainly have contacts with people in Russia.”

  “That could really help,” said Hanna, feeling a surge of hope. “But it could also backfire. I am still a fugitive, you know.”

  He waved his hand. “The German government would never dream of sending you back.”

  “I am not concerned about that. But the Okhrana have certainly not forgotten me. I do not want to rake up any memories which might cause more harm to the ones there.” She gave a small smile. “I also still watch out for dark corners when I walk in the streets.”

  “Another attack by the Okhrana? That seems far-fetched.”

  “Would you be willing to chance it?”

  It set him back. “No. Come to think of it, no.”

  “Anyhow, I wonder whether your diplomats could really help. The situation in Russia for Jews now is as bad as it has ever been.”

  “All right, I’ll hold off until you decide that you want me to become involved.”

  In spite of all the gloomy talk, the weekend was an enjoyable one. They all sailed on Jules’ boat to neighboring villages for hot chocolate with a huge topping of whipped cream, and he allowed Paul and Hanna to help raise the sail, and even gave them turns at the wheel. They swam, sunned, fished, and found a hundred things to laugh about.

  Hanna returned to her shop just minutes before the first shift reported, and, once she reviewed the Friday and Saturday production reports, she called in Elfreide, now her general manager, and went over the formation and movement of the next five women team.

  During the day, salesmen were accommodated, shortages of items from Fergl were obtained, machines broke down, inquiries were received from other firms asking her to take contracts, and administrative matters were resolved.

  The days seemed to whirl by.

  Then she heard from Bernard.

  Amsterdam

  The 5th of October, 1912

  My dear Hanna:

  I had meant to write long before now, but life seemed to catch up with me the moment I returned home. I always feel that way when I get back from sailing. As if the water carries me to a different world.

  I am sorry we could meet only one more time before I left for Holland. Meeting is not quite the description. Being with the Fergls and the Weiners is like visiting a most pleasant Tower of Babel. But alas, the Tower did not permit my being alone with you again, although dear Martha and Natalie tried to arrange it.

  My boat arrived in excellent condition. I have written my thanks to Jules for driving to Friedrichshafen to check on the loading. I found the note you placed on board. Good luck to you, too.

  I thought over carefully what you said to me the day it rained. “Why have you not done it, if you feel so strongly?” I kept hearing it all the way home. So, at the end of October, I will be sending you a card from the Orthopedic Treatment Center of Amsterdam. Two of my fellow orthopedists and I have joined forces to open the above named institution at that time. We will specialize in treatment for children.

  Both Freidrich and Jules have invited me to visit Stuttgart at any time, and once the Center is launched and on even keel, I will put their offers to the test.

  Like I said at my last mumbled goodbye, meeting you was the highlight of my vacation, and the sail home from the restaurant was its crowning point. I look forward to seeing you before the year ends.

  Fond respects,

  Bernard

  Getting back to work was excellent therapy for Hanna, for Bernard had made an impact. There were times when she almost resented the fact that he was blessed with so much from life while Stephen and Jakob had had so little. It seemed unfair. But one could not fault Bernard for that. He was not wasting his days, for he was contributing something very important to the world of medicine. She would be glad to see him again. But for now, one could live contentedly from day to day.

  The call came at midmorning a month later. It was Bernard on the telephone. “Hanna, are you there?”

  “Yes, Bernard. But where are you calling from?” she asked, surprised.

  “I am at Heidelberg. Yesterday I heard of a Zionist meeting to be held tomorrow at München, and I thought it was a wonderful opportunity to visit you.”

  Hanna could not keep her heart from leaping. “Did you come by train?”

  “No, I drove.”

  “All the way from Amsterdam? Since yesterday?”

  “Doktors don’t sleep. Anyhow, it was either drive all night or miss seeing you. The latter did not stand a chance.” She had to laugh, the blood in her veins singing. “Can we meet for lunch?”

  “Of course.”

  “Wait a moment. I know you. How much time do you take for lunch?”

  “Half an hour, except for special occasions. I consider this a very special occasion.”

  He chuckled. “Stay there. I will bring a lunch. We will eat in your office, and then I will catch a nap.”

  “Shall I call Freidrich?”

  “No, no. Absolutely not. I do not wish to share the short time I have. Anyhow, I have already made a reservation at a hotel. I will see you at noon.”

  When they hung up, it took a few minutes for Hanna to come back to earth. This is silly, she berated herself. Were this a different life on a different planet, she could act like a “ninny” on her first date. But she must not allow Bernard to enter her life except as a friend, regardless how wonderful it felt to be admired and wanted.

  Bernard came precisely at noon, carrying a basket containing sliced chicken sandwiches, pickles, and a jug of cold lemonade. After warm hello and kisses on her cheeks, he laid down the law. “I will brook no interference,” he warned. “We will close the door to your office, have lunch, and heaven help anyone who knocks on it.” He sat in her chair behind the desk, the files and reports stacked orderly atop it, and motioned her to a chair on the other side.

  “You are no longer Madame Industrialist now,” he informed her. “You are beautiful Hanna, the girl with the bare feet.” He began to take the food from the basket. “How much time do you have?”

  She looked at the clock. “Twenty-nine minutes.”

  “Good. We will eat and talk, and in twenty-eight minutes, I will be out through the door. Doktor’s orders, you know.”

  She smiled across the desk at him. “I am so glad you came, my dear. Did you eat a good breakfast?”

  “I stopped at Frankfurt and had a very surprised waiter bring me three eggs, two rolls, and a pot of coffee.”

  “How can you find the appetite to eat now?”

  “Doktors have four stomachs–like cattle.”

  She chewed on a sandwich. “This is fine. Where did you get them?”

  “There is a kosher shop three blocks from here. They will make anything, anytime.”

  “I did not know it was there.”

  He touched his nose. “A hunter’s nose. Its greatest success was sniffing all the way from Amsterdam to Germany and finding you.”

  At exactly twelve twenty-nine, Bernard tossed the remains of their lunch into the basket and eyed her thoughtfully. “I’m going to the Hotel Marquardt for some sleep. Will you meet me there for supper?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her lips, and then he was out of the room. She watched him make his way between the machines to the staircase, and a flood of affection for him swept over her.

  “Later,” she said to herself. “The profit today will pay for another day
of searching for my loved ones.”

  At the end of the day’s work, she walked the three blocks to the streetcar stop, full of mixed emotions. For five steps, she wanted to hurry, then for the next five steps, she was ready to turn back. There was no doubt that Bernard wanted her, but she was not free to give herself. She was Stephen’s, and she felt guilt at just visiting him. What attracted her was his high spirited nature. He carried her along on the wings of an adventure. Not an adventure of daring, or of danger, but of a solid, down-to-earth aura of accomplishment. He saw them in reasoned, orderly colors.

  She tried not to think too deeply of what life had in store for her. She was a woman of the earth, with roots deep in tradition, satisfied with serving others. There was also another woman inside, full of passion and flights to the moon–as long as her feet were not far from the ground. But Bernard had taught her a lesson when she swam those few meters to shore. With him, she could be as safe in five meters of water as being in one and a half meters, and it had thrilled her to the core.

  She felt the reluctance build up as the streetcar neared the hotel stop. It was the grandest hotel in the kingdom, of international fame, one that she had passed two or three times with stares of pleasure. At the concierge’s desk, her heart thumped as he gave orders to the tube operator to signal Bernard’s room. There was no response.

  “I am certain he is in his room,” said Hanna.

  “Of course, gnädige Frau,” said the concierge. “His key.” He pointed to an empty pigeon hole. “I will send out a page.” At a snap of his fingers, a young boy in tailored uniform trotted off towards a staircase. Hanna took a seat on one of the silk-covered settees placed tastefully about the huge lobby, feeling completely out of station. The hotel was full of exotic looking people, some with fine, decorated abas and red fezzes with black tassels; others with turbans clashing with western-style clothes, and there were uniformed officers from various countries struggling under braid and piping of gold. There were elevators with gilded cages lined with red and gold satin, containing small benches covered with the same material, taking in or letting off elegantly clad ladies in long flowing gowns and men in perfectly fitted formal tails.