“Good old Tante Martha,” said Jules, with affection. “She never forgets.”
After they had eaten, Jules led the way into his library. “Would you care for a drink?’ he asked.
“I could use a Likör. Do you have any of the Fruchtsaftlikör from Austria left?”
“Yes. I was saving a bottle as a gift for you, but it’s a good time to open it now.”
He uncapped the bottle, poured a small glass for Hanna, and a generous portion for himself. They took seats, and then he took a deep swallow. “Hanna,” he finally said, “I don’t quite know what to do about Paul.”
“He will be all right. He has good stuff in him.”
“Oh, I don’t mean that. But he is a very sensitive boy, you know. More than people think.”
“He has got a lot more steel up his spine than you realize.”
“He does? I’ve never seen him that way. I’ve always wanted him to be understanding, not hard.”
“He is. But do not ever worry about him when he needs that inner strength. He has it, in good supply.”
“But what I am referring to is how to take care of him. Reuben and Frau Weiss can’t do what I want. They can’t replace Natalie, God rest her soul. You’re the only one who can help.”
Hanna leaned back into her chair. It took only a little sip to set her brain whirling, but she sipped again. She guessed what Jules was about to propose, and she wanted it desperately. But there were so many problems.
Now and then she forgot how perceptive Jules was, for he seemed to have read her mind. “I know he is almost like your own son, and that appearances might create problems. But, believe me, I’ve weighed them all. You have your own life to lead, and it is not fair for us to intrude upon it.”
“You and Natalie have never intruded. Where would I have been without you?”
“Possibly far better off than you are now. You could have had your own home and family.”
“With whom?” she said quietly.
It brought Jules up short. “Yes, you are right.” He refilled his glass, and offered the bottle of Likör to Hanna, who held up her glass as he poured. He resumed his seat wearily. “That does not mean you cannot look towards the future.”
“Perhaps not. I just have not given it any thought.”
“Bernard Reigler seems to have other ideas.”
“Everyone seems to be taking a lot for granted. Bernard is the kind of person I would like as a friend. But only as a friend.” She took a long sip of the fiery Likör. “As for Paul, I will help out as long as he needs me. I can continue coming over each morning, help him prepare for school, then come back again when he gets home and stay until bedtime.”
He nodded with relief written over his face. “Thank you. You’ve taken a great load off my mind.”
She stood up. “I have to go home now. There are a few things I must take care of.”
The walk to the streetcar stop was a lonely one, and it seemed endless. She had seen the lives of three young people she loved snuffed out. Hershel had died violently, and even gentle Jakob had died in that fashion, for had he not intervened to save her life, he would be home, surrounded by people who loved and respected him, doing the work of the Lord as he saw it, full of spirit and contentment. And now, Natalie.
Dear God, she asked inwardly, is all of life to be one unhappiness after another?
Then, suddenly, rain began to fall, and without warning, it swept down in torrents. As she pulled her coat tighter together, she heard the sounds of thunder in the distance.
Lord, Lord, she said to herself. Is this Your answer? Is mine to be a life of nothing but thunder?
CHAPTER 36
On Thursday, the funeral services started from Breen’s chapel, where all assembled sat on padded benches in front of the coffin, draped with the black cloth containing the Star of David. Jules and Paul sat up front to receive the condolences of friends. At the specified time, Rabbi Gluck walked onto a raised platform. He looked out sadly at the large gathering.
“Genesis Three, Paragraph Nineteen states, “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return.” He bowed his head in affirmation, and then stood straighter. “All of you here are saying farewell to Natalie Kaplan Weiner, and are performing the mitzvah of Levayat ha-Met, an act of love that God will one day reward, for it was love that made up the heart and the soul of this woman. In the life of each man and woman and child is a blessed one, a person whose very being has justified God’s faith in His people. Natalie Kaplan Weiner was such a person. Whoever knew her was richer for the experience, for she was a true daughter of Israel. The hearts of all of us go out to her husband, Jules, and her son, Paul, and may we all say, ‘Amen’.”
While the gathering repeated “Amen”, Breen gave a discreet sign. Fergl and five other friends of Jules walked to the coffin, lifted it, and carried the body out to a hearse, the mourners taking places in cars lined up behind the long, black vehicle. It was a short ride to the cemetery. As the body was being lowered into its grave, a synagogue member made a small cut in the right lapel of Jules’ jacket. Tears streaming down his face, Jules tore it open a hand’s-breadth. “Barukh attah, Dayan Ha- Emet,” he choked out. Blessed are You, the True Judge. The member leaned down and made a cut on Paul’s left side, over his heart. Paul, his face tight with fear, performed his keri’ah by tearing his lapel. The member gently coached him in the blessing of God.
At the conclusion of the services, they all walked towards the entrance of the cemetery where the vehicles were parked. As they passed through the gate, a long sports car drew up. It was covered with road dust. It turned into a narrow parking place, and Bernard got out. He took off a driving coat and threw it on the seat, then hurried over to them. Hanna could see that his face was lined with weariness, and his eyes were red-rimmed.
He went directly to Jules. “I heard yesterday about Natalie. I cannot tell you how shocked I am. I’m sorry I am late.”
“Did you drive all the way from Amsterdam?” asked Jules.
“Yes.”
“Since yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Bernard. I am grateful.”
Bernard stepped over to Paul and leaned down to take his hand. “Hello, Paul. Do you remember me?”
“Yes. You took Tante Hanna to the restaurant on the lake.”
“Yes. And we all swam together at the cove.”
He stood up and looked at Hanna. He did not have to say what he felt. It was in his eyes. He put out his hand. “Hello, Hanna. I’m sorry you lost Natalie.”
“Thank you, Bernard. It was good of you to come.”
He turned to Martha and Fergl and shook hands. “I wish we were meeting some other place for a different reason,” he said.
“We, too,” replied Fergl. “And we are also grateful that you came.” He wiped his nose. “Follow us home.”
“All right.”
At the house, Reuben was waiting with the ritual pitcher of water and towels for all to rinse their hands, and soon their friends began arriving. Hanna saw Bernard a number of times as she moved between the kitchen and the guests to see that all were being taken care of. He was seated in a corner, his back slumped against the chair, trying hard to keep his eyes open.
She worked her way over to him. “Bernard, would you like to lay down for a while? There is a room on the third floor where you would not be disturbed.”
He smiled at her. “I’ll be all right in a little while.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I took a special pill a short time ago. In fifteen minutes, I’ll be leaping about like a gazelle.”
She smiled down fondly on him. “That was a very special thing you did. I still cannot believe that you could drive from Amsterdam in a day.”
He shrugged. “Actually, you can’t. It is all a mirage.”
She shook her head at him, tenderly reproaching his wild trip. “Can
I get you something to drink or eat?”
“Later. Once the pill works. All I want to do now is sit here and watch you moving about.”
“I will come back,” she said, walking off. She went into the library. By general agreement, it had been left for the children to play in. This is what this gathering is for, said Hanna to herself - to take away, even for a few brief hours, the thought of the loss from the minds of the mourners.
A little while later, Bernard followed. His eyes were clearer, and his shoulders were straighter. He leaned back against the wall and watched the children amusing themselves there. “Who will be taking care of Paul now?” he asked.
“I will.”
He nodded his head. “I guess you are the only one who could.”
Hanna smiled at the deep compliment. “I feel very fortunate and very honored,” she said. “He will be going through a lot of pain for a while,” she added sadly.
“Yes. I’m sure. Natalie was a special kind of person. What happened to her anyway?”
“Her heart. It gave out.”
He shook his head. “After all she went through. What a terrible loss.” He took her hand in his. “Hanna, I’d like to stay longer, but I must start back in an hour or so. I am scheduled for surgery tomorrow. I cannot put it off, nor can any of my associates handle it.”
“That soon, Bernard? Surely you need some rest,” Hanna said, her hopes for companionship sinking.
“I’ll manage. If it was for any other reason, nobody could drag me away.”
In mid-afternoon, Bernard prepared for the drive back to Holland. Hanna kissed his lips gently, her heart full of affection for him. Her eyes followed his car until it was out of sight. Forlornly, she realized how deeply he had entered her very being. It brought on emotions she knew that she could not afford. She must allow nothing to interfere with her love and resolve to stay true to Stephen. Sighing, defeated, she turned back into the house.
CHAPTER 37
Jules was in his office checking his records when Rosenthal phoned. “How are you, Herr Weiner?” the older man inquired. He and Jules had reached a form of respect over the years, but they would never address each other by the informal “Du”.
“Fine, Herr Rosenthal. Fine. Are you and Frau Rosenthal well?”
“Well is well. At seventy-five years of age, anything is well.” The older man chuckled. He knew that everyone else knew he was only seventy-years-old, but he enjoyed his little game. “Herr Weiner,” he went on, his voice serious and conspiratorial. “One of the two men who were seeking a Frau Barlak a couple of years ago was here just a few minutes ago.”
Jules sat up abruptly. Goose pimples rose on his arms, then he felt a surge of anger. “Did he know where Frau Charnoff was living?”
“No. Not at all. Like I said, he wanted information only about where Frau Barlak was located.”
“Did he say Barlak or Charnoff?”
Rosenthal had known since Hanna’s confession of her true identity. “He said Barlak. That means he doesn’t know about the change in name.”
Jules pushed his books aside and drew over a pad. He had built up a moderate-sized men’s haberdashery shop into one of the leading department stores in the kingdom in only ten years, and he was well accustomed to facing problems. “Describe the man.” His hand recorded the information on the pad swiftly. “Was he alone?”
“No. He had another man along. Not the same as before, though.”
“Describe him?” He wrote down the data, then he went on, “What did he finally say when you told him you knew nothing?”
“He didn’t seem surprised.” Rosenthal took a few seconds to reflect. “I have a feeling that he believed me. It’s almost–well, as if he went to hunt for her in North Germany, then began backtracking, so to speak.”
Jules had always felt that Rosenthal was as sharp as can be, but his estimate of the present situation was superb. “Thank God he didn’t run upon Frau Charnoff.”
“Yes. I was praying that she did not come by unexpectedly.”
“Yes. That is fortunate. It seems he doesn’t know about her new name?”
“He could also be looking for a Frau Timoshinkov.”
That brought Jules up short. Of course. The Okhrana might have learned about Hanna’s marriage. “That makes sense. Anyhow, until I get back to you, if any of them should show up, say you learned nothing. Try to get their address.” He paused to consider his next comment. “Also try to follow them, if you can, Herr Rosenthal.”
Rosenthal’s soft chuckle did not conceal his excitement. “I planned to do just that, Herr Weiner.”
“Excellent. Please be careful.”
As soon as he hung up, he was on the phone to Hanna and spoke of his conversation with Rosenthal. “Hanna, tell Elfriede to take over. Warn her to say nothing to anyone. Then take a taxi to my house. I will be leaving for home at once myself.”
She grasped the situation immediately and did not argue. “Very well, Jules. I will come right away.”
Once Jules finished with Hanna, he called Fergl, who promised to meet them as soon as he could drive there.
Jules arrived first and was working on his second schnapps when they came. He handed a Likör to Hanna and a schnapps to Fergl, then they sat to discuss the problem. Hanna was frightened; the two men could see. After all, she had gone through the shooting at Garmisch and had seen how determined and vicious the Russian killers were.
“We should call Herr Wuerst?” said Fergl when their conversation had come to a dead halt.
“Who is he?” asked Hanna.
“He’s the detective who found the agency you are dealing with in Königsberg.”
“Very well,” she assented.
Fergl was on the phone immediately, he explained the situation, then hung up. “He will be here at eight tonight. He wants all of us, including Rosenthal, to be present.”
All were waiting in the library when Reuben ushered in the lean, hooded-eyed detective. He accepted a drink from Jules, and then listened quietly as each one spoke, making occasional notes in a small book and asking brief questions from time to time. When all were done, he lit a cigar and leaned back into his chair, thinking.
“There are a number of options,” he finally said, in his clipped, no nonsense manner. “The first is to hunt down and do away with these two men.”
“Kill them?” asked Hanna, with an incredulous stare.
“They would murder you in an instant,” said Wuerst, harshly. “They deserve no less.” He raised his hand. “However, if they were killed, it might make the Russians suspect they were getting close to their targets. The best means would be to convince them that you have left the country.”
“We were hoping they thought that the last time,” said Jules.
Wuerst nodded. “Herr Rosenthal’s analysis appears sound–that they have recently run upon Herr Golub’s cover name and are checking places he might have visited.” He leaned forward in his chair, nearer to Jules. “It is all merely a matter of manpower. To visit each town and city in Germany and carry out a thorough investigation would require scores of agents. Frau Charnoff and Herr Gulman are certainly not the only fugitives being sought, and no government can support such an effort unless it was one upon which national security depended.”
“What do you suggest, then?” asked Fergl. “This case is certainly not a national priority.”
“To the targets, it seems that way,” replied the detective pointedly. “Anyhow, I think the Russians should be tracked down, to determine if they still consider Stuttgart to be a place of interest. If they have left, we could assume that they have been thrown off the trail. In that event…” he took a puff on his cigar to consider his words, “…we could seek them out and do away with them in a distant city. That might turn subsequent searches in that direction.”
“Suppose your investigation reveals that they are still in Stuttgart?” asked Hanna.
Wuerst pursed his lips, and his eyes grew pensive. “We would h
ave to meet again to decide on a course of action. Frau Charnoff, I suggest that you remain here in Herr Weiner’s house for the next few days.”
She shrugged. “There are always problems that must be dealt with in my company. I understand the seriousness of the situation, but can you provide me with a bodyguard?”
“Yes, of course. But it is always harder to deal with men out to kill someone than it is with those merely making an investigation.”
Hanna nodded in understanding. “Very well, I will remain here. But if conditions at my factory grow serious, I will have to go there.”
“Agreed. Let me know if that becomes necessary before you go outside.” He rose, and, with courteous goodbyes, left the house.
“He’s a cool one,” said Rosenthal, nodding his head. “I would not like to be the man he is after.”
That night, after the light in Hanna’s bedroom had been extinguished, Jules slipped downstairs and made himself comfortable on a chair in the parlor. Under the blanket that he placed around his shoulders was a revolver, that he had purchased many years ago.
That same night, Wuerst met with four of his agents in a Stuttgart hotel room. He told them of the descriptions obtained from Rosenthal. “They speak with an accent,” he went on. “Apparently Russian.” He unrolled a map of the city and marked it into five areas, assigning each of them to a sector. “We will check every hotel, pension, and boarding house possible. There is a budget of forty marks a man for tips and other expenses. Now, let’s get some sleep and get started early.”
Three mornings later, Wuerst phoned Jules. “I would like everyone at your house again as soon as possible.”
“We can all be there in half an hour. Have you found them?”
“Yes. I will discuss it there.”
Upon his arrival, they all assembled in the library. Reuben served coffee, and then closed the door quietly behind himself.
Wuerst gratefully took a couple of sips. Hanna gathered at once that he had not even allowed time for breakfast. “We found your men at a small hotel just outside of town and followed them carefully. Each morning they stopped at one of your synagogues and watched the people enter and leave, and then they spoke with some merchants in the shopping area. Had they gained some information, they would have gone immediately to the bungalow Frau Charnoff and Herr Gulman once used or back to Herr Rosenthal’s. Since they have not yet checked out of their hotel, I suspect they will continue their search.” He drank again deeply, and then went on. “These men are using fine tactics. Sooner or later someone they speak to will mention that Mordecai Gulman did in fact reside here and is now dead. It would then be an easy task to learn that Herr Gulman had a friend named Hanna Charnoff.”
Enemy of the Tzar Page 37