The Ghost

by Henry Kellerman

  Max agreed to everything and told Shmuel he would simply wait for further instructions or just wait for him to show up. Max had undying respect and confidence in Shmuel and Shmuel also knew that his partnership with Max was perfect. Max, he knew, was fearless.

  . 20 .

  THE HOLLOW CYLINDER

  Well, Shmuel Kishnov was gone and wasn’t gone. Of course, he knew where he was going. He travelled cross-country three-thousand miles to Palo Alto, California to visit a dear friend who he befriended when he was in the Treblinka concentration camp. This friend was Yasha Greiner. They both survived by the skin of their teeth.

  Treblinka was run by the Commandant, Franz Stangl, and Shmuel had always promised himself that he would himself kill Stangl. He would do it slowly and very painfully and if at all possible he wanted to film it and distribute the film to all media outlets. The film would be subtitled with all the atrocities Stangl committed as an example to what could happen to any individual who does the things that Stangl did.

  The firm CPE was located In Palo Alto. The initials stood for Chemistry, Physics, Engineering. CPE did work for companies all over the world and especially for companies in the U.S. including the U.S. government. And lo and behold, Dr. Yasha Greiner was CPE’s chief scientist. And that was his official title as well—Chief Scientist.

  Dr. Greiner spent his childhood in England and spoke English without a trace of an accent, while Shmueli grew up in a shtetl in Ukraine and learned English after the war when he was liberated from a Nazi work-camp that was part of the Triblinka extermination camp located in Poland outside of Warsaw. There, both Shmuel Kishnov and Yasha Greiner were assigned to work in the gravel pits. They became fast friends although they couldn’t really communicate very rapidly. Greiner, whose family were German Jews spoke German, and Shmuel spoke Russian, Ukrainian, and Yiddish which was typical for Jews who lived in these little hamlets called shtetls—especially in Ukraine. So, the friends talked to one another mostly in a combination of German and Yiddish.

  Coincidentally, Dr. Greiner’s family then went from London to Germany because Yasha came there to study scientific subject-matter in chemistry as well as in industrial design. However, in the process he got caught up in the Nazi juggernaut ultimately winding up in the same concentration camp as Shmueli.

  Yasha’s parents and two siblings, older than he, were killed, and Shmueli lost his mother, sister, and sister’s family. After the war, both of them spent a year working in a kitchen washing dishes and cleaning everything in sight at an allied field-hospital where Shmueli learned a rudimentary albeit broken English. At that point, they spoke to one mostly in English. When they separated it was the end of 1946 and they had both now discovered what had happened to their families. In parting, they promised to surely keep in touch. Yasha made plans to return to England but Shmueli disappeared into the Jewish underground and their promises to one another about being in touch faded. Yet Shmueli, surreptitiously, always kept tabs on Greiner’s whereabouts but knew that because of his newly acquired underground Kovner Avenger work—and later his work with the Irgun, the Jewish terrorist group that was now attacking British installations in the Palestine Mandate—it was impossible for him to even reveal a hint of his ongoing and varying locations, no less reveal his home-base address.

  Shmueli arrived unannounced and without an appointment. The receptionist at CPE told Mr. Kishnov that it would be impossible to arrange an audience with Dr. Greiner without a pre-arranged appointment. However, Shmuel insisted that Dr. Greiner would see him and continued to insist until the receptionist used the intercom to page Dr. Greiner. The receptionist said that Dr. Greiner is usually at the company at all hours since he is the company’s trouble shooter and consultant to various departments. Nevertheless, even though she was impressed with his importance, Shmueli didn’t blink.

  The receptionist asked Mr. Kishnov to take a seat because it could take some time before Dr. Greiner answered the page. After about ten minutes,

  the receptionist paged again.

  “Dr. Greiner, Dr. Greiner, please call the desk. Dr. Greiner, Dr. Greiner, please call the desk.”

  This time it took all of about two minutes and Yasha Greiner returned the page. The receptionist relayed the name, Mr. Shmuel Kishnov, and she gasped at how quickly Dr. Greiner hung up the phone without even any verbal response.

  In another few minutes in burst Dr. Yasha Greiner and practically jumped all over Shmuel. They both cried. Greiner wept while Shmuel handed him some tissues from the tissue box on the waiting area table. Shmuel also took a couple for himself. They hadn’t seen one another since they separated from that allied field-hospital and therefore had not been in touch for the past dozen years.

  “Come, come to my office. We’ll talk there,” Greiner said urgently.

  In Yasha Greiner’s office, the walls were lined with book shelves fat with overflowing books and the desk was filled with stacks of folders and papers. African masks and all sorts of cultural artifacts accented the office and these, without a doubt would make a powerful impression on visitors. The office was quite large with an adjoining conference room.

  “Now, Shmuelikle what’s going on that you give me such a surprise?”

  “Vell dis reception lady no feel dis vay, I assuring you.”

  “Ha, that’s really funny because I don’t usually accept unscheduled appointments. I’m so busy consulting with various scientists here that I can’t always keep up with it myself. So okay, Shmuelikl if you’re here like this, I know I should be on my toes because whether you know it or not, I know what you do. I’m so proud of you.

  “Let me ask you first: Did you ever get a line on Stangl? I’ll answer it myself: probably not because I would have heard by now that he got dead one way or the other. That would have been the best news from you whether or not you personally informed me. You can imagine I’ve kept a file on every article or news story about him but nothing about where he might be nor if in fact he’s still living. Of course, you and I know him and how determined he is, so we both can feel it—we know he’s still living. That skunk.”

  “Yah, I do knowing dis for sure he ist alive, but vhere ist anoder story. I heaing he ist doing killings somevhere in dis Middle-East, maybe could be ist in Syria, un dat dis Syrian government ist giving to him complete protect. But you right, Yashie, I having him alvays in mine mind un some day ifn he ever leaving Syria, I promising you, Yashie, for you un for me un for dis millions, I kill him.”

  “By the way Shmulik, I know about you and Kovner. Those Nazis and Christians deserved to die. All of them.”

  “Vie Christians, Yash? Vie you say Christians?”

  “I’ve thought about it for a long time, Shmueli. Who killed the Jews? Men from Mars? No, it was all Christians who killed us because that’s what they learned in church about what to do with Jews and at the same what they learned at home about what to do with Jews. That’s why I say Nazis and Christians. Shmueli, I am not wrong!

  “Do you knowing,” Yash, “dere vast a group visitor

  from United States two years back un day no knowing of such tings like this—like who vas Jewish and who no Jewish. Vone of dis men saying dat he never meet Jew un dat in dis place, Oklahoma, people in dis man’s church who say Jews day having horns—un day believing dis. Dis vhat deese priest day teaching, dat Jews having dis horns. Un day saying dat dis horns from head ist liking to horns mit dis Devil. You seeing vhat I meaning, Yash?”

  “Yes I do. And these people,” Yash answered, “are so stupid. You kill six million Jews, you idiots. Don’t you know you killed the cure for cancer, heart disease, diabetes and all other kinds of dreadful killing diseases. Don’t you realize that? This is what I’d like to say to them. These moronicos!”

  “Ya, you no wrong, Yash. You no wrong. It is church un priests un den it go to deese families. Vee knowing dis. But now vee talking on Nazis. I needing to concentration on Nazis as vee knowing dem. Und I meaning ‘vee,’ you und me. Vee leaving dis t
alking of Christian un church un priests. Now only vee talking Nazis.”

  “Okay, Shmueli, shoot.”

  “I needing informatzie on two tings un I tink you getting vone of deese making for me un in platz like dis I tink you make oder vone too.”

  “So, what are these two things?”

  “I needing hollow metal cylinder dis to being two feet vide un seventy inches long. Dis no able to be corrode by acid if acid ist poured into dis cylinder. Should no be corrode by any form of dis acid vhen dis acid be pouring into dis cylinder. You could doing dat? It vould taking long time?

  “Okay, oder ting ist dis acid. Vhat ist most strong acid dat can dissolving dis bone un no leaving anyting—no bone, no teet?”

  “Wow, Shmueli, no wonder you traveled all this way even though I don’t know from where you came. Don’t tell me anything else but let me think. Okay, here it is. I think hydrochloric acid, lye, or sodium hydroxide, are possibilities but it doesn’t seem to me that any of those could fit the criteria you set. Therefore, I think the best acid would be hydrofluoric acid but which does react with metal so that we would need to use a glass container within the metal cylinder that in turn would be coated with wax. That would satisfy the chemical interactions you set, so that the metal will never corrode.

  “This distillation, this little cocktail is something I can have made for you here and bottle it so that you don’t have to do the mixology yourself. Anyway, you certainly don’t want to handle the hydrofluoric acid by carrying it in an unprotected package. Trust me.

  “Also, we can fashion that cylinder in no time and include a glass insulation within, necessarily coated with wax. All you would need to do is to position the body in a way that all the acid thoroughly bathes the body. Get it?”

  “Ya, I understanding. Okay, if you getting starting now how longing to vait?”

  “You wait here for me and I’ll get it started immediately, and then we go for dinner and talk. By the time we get back from dinner, it will be all ready. I still don’t want to know details but believe me Shmueli, I know it’s for a reason, for a cause that’s good, and one that I would surely agree with.”

  “Vait, Yash. I almost forgetting dis. I needing dis cylinder to being closed so to being never again open at end of dis cylinder. At dis oder end should being open but mit latch so to being later to being locking un goot closed.

  “Yash, I paying for dis. How much dis company charge for dis? I having dis money.”

  “C’mon, Shmueli, you know—with you and me, there’s no such thing as money.”

  Later on that evening when Shmuel was getting ready to leave, Dr. Greiner had the entire package ready for him. It was three pounds of hydrofluoric acid in a non-corrosive container—tightly bound. One end was closed and the other open but with a latch just the way Shmuel asked. Yasha told Shmuel it would take approximately a day and a half for all live tissue, bone and teeth to disappear, to dissolve without any trace such as a tooth or even some stray piece of bone remaining.

  In addition, this genius, Dr. Yasha Greiner wanted to know what Shmuel was going to do with the three or four pound package that included the weight of the outer package itself.

  “I vanting to mailing dis package. Yash, could be in dis mail, yah?”

  “The answer is yes but it’s required to register any chemical that could be dangerous.”

  “Maybe I sending dis chemical un mail but no saying vhat ist dis?”

  “But Shmueli, if it gets damaged someone could get hurt or worse.”

  “Okay, so I carrying dis vit me ven I going. Yash, how much dis package it veigh?”

  “Let’s say four pounds.”

  “Okay den vee send cylinder in dis mail—un I carrying package. Yash, cylinder? How longing dis ist?”

  “Five-foot ten-inches.”

  “Okay, you sending. I giving you address.”

  With that, Shmuel Kishnov dictates to Greiner: “ The Clearwater Company, care of S. K. Address ist: 18 Square Victoria Mews, Mentone, France.”

  After another couple of minutes of conversation, Shmuel Kishnov said his goodbyes to his forever friend, Yasha Greiner. They embraced and kissed, Again the promise to keep in touch was agreed upon even though they both knew that Yasha couldn’t be in touch but that Shmueli would if he could.

  Shmuel got into the cab carrying his four-pound friend. His destination was Palo Alto Airport. Shmuel Kishnov was on his way to visit with Max Palace who was waiting for him in their pre-arranged destination — Monte Carlo.

  * * *

  Meanwhile at Jimmy’s office in London, Simon and the gang were planning an invasion of Mentone, France. They had no idea that Max and Shmuel had already ‘parachuted’ in and had their lodging confirmed at the Hotel Columbus. When Shmuel arrived at the Hotel, he checked in under the name, Selwyn Kalin—(initials, S. K.). Then he contacted Max, and they met in Max’s room.

  “Vee calling Jimmy,” Shmuel said, “but no from dis Hotel. Vee finding public phone un vee could using dis public phone in lobby from dis hotel.”

  In a few minutes they were in the lobby and made the call to Jimmy’s office in London. Jimmy picked up on the first ring.

  “Jimmy, ist Shmueli. I here in Monaco mit Max. Vee living at dis Columbus in dis Monte Carlo. Vhen you guys getting here? Vee already having interesting informatzie. Vhen you coming here?”

  “Good to hear from you Shmuel. We’ll be there in two or three days. I’ll contact you immediately after arriving. We’re coming in at Monte Carlo Airport. Just me and Imi. We decided only Krav guys.”

  “Goot. Goot decision. I having more surprise vhen you being here.”

  “Okay, Shmuel, tell Maxie hello. We’ll see you shortly.”

  Shmuel and Max then went out for dinner. After dinner, they walked around and got acquainted with the surrounding scene. They decided, if possible to pick up a couple of women, but in this case, it wasn’t for the usual reason.

  It wasn’t long before they saw two young women probably in their late twenties or early thirties, who seemed interested in talking and then in turn were immediately willing. One was attracted to Shmuel and the other to Max. Shmuel later said he understood why Max’s girl flipped out over him, but he was surprised that the other one wanted him.

  Once they got acquainted and talked, Max suggested that they go over to Mentone Harbor and see the sights. He said it was very romantic and quieter over there. The women seemed interested and when Shmuel seconded the motion, off they went.

  It wasn’t that far to Mentone Harbor but nevertheless they taxied over. At Mentone Harbor the women were smitten with the scene. By this time, it was early evening and the Harbor was beautiful and lined with yachts. The gulls were swooping all around singing their gull songs—arrrr, arrrr. Maxie gave Shmuel a look and motioned over to his side. Then reality set in. They were both looking at the yacht named Salvation.

  They both found it interesting that there was only one sailor on board and he was visibly lounging on deck. They assumed there were others in the interior of the yacht, in cabins, but that was only a guess. The women were continuing their rhapsodic take on it all and wanted to sit at a beach café right at the shore to watch the sunset and to see the night begin to conquer the dusk. They were obviously in a romantic swoon. It was obvious to them why so many people flock to the south of France, to the Riviera.

  So, the four of them sat at a little table at the outdoor café that was tailormade for them, while others were sitting at the bar some yards away.

  In contrast, to the romantic ambiance, although Shmuel and Max were smiling with them and engaging in conversation, at all times they kept checking out the scene for purposes other than having any plans brewing with respect to the women.

  Suddenly, both Shmuel and Max noticed another sailor emerging from the interior of the yacht. This one was an officious type. Both Shmuel and Max could tell. He was formal as though he had some command position. When the sailor who was there saw him, he immediately stood strai
ght up.

  Even with the women sitting with them, Max looked at Shmuel and said:

  “You see that? That’s military stuff.”

  Shmuel nodded, looked at the women who seemed curious about what Max had said, and Shmuel casually responded:

  “It all depending vheder you liking dis tequila mit zaltz oder mit no zaltz. Mit dis zaltz, I meaning ist no strong. Mit no zalts, you taking dis like mit military vay un dat ist vhat mine frient here saying vhen he seeing deese two guys at dis bar drinking vhat looking like it being tequila but mit no zaltz. You seeing vhat I meaning?”

  That did it and the women laughed. Then, Max ordered another round. They were only drinking daiquiris but after three or four, the women were a bit blotto. It was then that Shmuel spotted the formal military man telling the other one something and pointing away from the yacht and harbor toward the mainland. The sailor immediately got off the boat onto the dock, and then walked swiftly along the wide path leading past the café.

  In a moment’s glance, Max picked up Shmuel’s intent and without hesitating, disregarded what the women were saying, excused himself by mumbling a few words, and in a split second he was off trying to tail the swift-footed sailor. The sailor was significantly ahead of Max and no matter how fast Max tried to walk, he simply couldn’t keep up.

  After about five minutes, he finally spotted the sailor who, by this time was way ahead of him, turning onto another path. When Max reached that point in the road and made the same turn as did the sailor, he no longer could see anyone. What he did see were many little cottages along the road with other cottages atop them on stratified tiers of a hill with a large house at the top tier; that large house sitting recessed from the ledge of this top tier in a way that the house was not quite, but just about, out of sight from ground level where Max was standing and looking up.

  Max tried to see what that house was all about but even climbing further up the hill didn’t help. He knew in his gut that this house was something important and that Shmuel needed to know about this hunch even sooner than now. To say that Max was excited would be a monumental understatement!