Warsaw (26 page)

Jessica was touched by the tenderness and paternity of his
tone. She smiled and nodded her head. Perhaps a part of her wanted to softly
put a finger to his lips and climb into bed with him - as indeed Adam had often
pictured himself of late walking into Jessica's room and lovingly doing the
same to her. But as Jessica returned to her bed an argument filled the woman's
heart which bespoke of loving Duritz for his new-found restraint and
selflessness. He really cared for her. She romantically thought of mundane
things they would some day do together, like go shopping or go to the theatre.
He would always make her laugh. He was different. Jessica made a promise to
herself that when all this was over she would take him to the coast. They had
stayed up chatting one evening and Adam had revealed how he longed to, just
once, see the ocean.

"Like most things, I've only read about it. I haven't
been anywhere really."

"I love the ocean. Papa once took us on holiday to
Cannes. The beaches were beautiful. The sea was so clear that you could look
down and see your feet on the ocean floor."

"When I was about five years old I once sneaked off and
climbed the highest tenement block I could find to see if I could see the sea.
I even stood on tip-toe, trying to look further."

"What did you see?"

"The back of my father's hand, eventually. I've been
climbing buildings and looking down on anti-climaxes since" Adam remarked
wistfully.

The ocean would not be an anti-climax Jessica believed when
she took Adam. She would wear something nice. She remembered how attractive she
looked when she last visited the coast. An old boyfriend had driven her. She
had worn a short skirt and she caught the eye of everyone on the beach. Jessica
closed her eyes and felt the sea breeze freshen the skin upon her legs and sun
bronze her face. She could sense the envy of other women and the desire of men
as sure as she felt the sun upon the back of her neck. But Jessica here
indulgently smiled to herself in thinking how proud and happy Adam would be
with her on his arm as they walked across the golden sands, the sea lapping
across and cooling their feet as they did so. She would take him swimming. She
would enjoy teaching him to swim. The young woman closed her eyes and
sumptuously smiled in picturing herself pretty again - and Adam adoring her.
Loving her. It was a substantial and liberating feeling, the thought that she
would be with Adam for the rest of her life. He was the one. No longer did the
once vain girl crave to be the centre of attention, to play all sorts of games
to tease, win (or submit to being won) - and then discard her suitor for that
particular season. Adam would always be devoted to her - and she to him.

The storm had long abated and the rains had washed away all
the fungus-shaped clouds to leave a glossy black night sky, soft in its texture
to appear almost velvety. Such was the position and the rare effulgence of the
moon framed within the window above Adam that one might have mistook the sight
for an omen. Such was its proximity and power that its beams not only
illuminated Duritz's room with uncommon vigour but so too its supple rays
stretched into Jessica's room, bathing her delicate face in a heavenly glow as
if it were its duty to do so. The resplendent stars seemed to pulsate to the
girl's throbbing heart as her inward eye gazed upon her intended - who she
judged now in his true light. Love fuelled a faith in God. God inspired a faith
in love.
 

23.

A nettling headache accompanied Yitzhak Meisel's chesty
cough. He sucked and spluttered up a mouthful of emerald catarrh, spitting it
all out into a teacup which rested upon the table next to his squeaking bed.
The pastel skies outside belonged to summer, which only made the temperature
seem crueller to the lamentable inhabitants of the ghetto this morning. The policeman
at first sneered and then cursed the absent girl underneath his breath. Meisel
had wanted the chit to make him a cup of coffee and light his burner. He might
have even been in the mood to service her again before having to get up. One
could argue that the unpleasant policeman couldn't have reason to complain. He
had banished the girl from his sight saying "what are you still doing
here, do you think you're gonna get paid?" in the middle of the night. But
Yitzhak complained to himself and cursed her nevertheless. He concluded that
he'd pick the sister next time. After all, to look at them, the sister was now
perhaps a more enjoyable prospect - younger, healthier. With a blackened
fingernail he scraped a thick layer of scum off his back teeth.

The succulent picture of this virginal teenager began to
dominate his thoughts to the point where the constable was tempted to venture
to the apartment two floors above and retrieve the girl. The prattling mother
might protest and go through all the histrionics but ultimately she would have
to submit to his will. Thankfully the father and two brothers had long since
been evacuated. The one thing that he'd never got from the mole-faced fish-wife
was gratitude Meisel suddenly thought to himself. He'd never select them - well
the mother he might, if only to shut her up. But her daughters were safe,
because of him.

Others were not safe in building however and Yitzhak Meisel
soon dutifully turned his thoughts towards them. He made a mental note of where
he was going to get his next five from. He already had four sorted out,
including an elderly couple from the ground floor. He trotted out his old
kindly and practical argument, that they'd be relocated to a work camp outside
of town where food and water were in greater supply and distributed more
fairly. They would be able to stay together. It was a performance perfected by
Duritz he had to concede. He of the some time holier than thou attitude -
Meisel sardonically added to his thoughts. Whether the old couple believed him or
not though, or convinced themselves that they believed the policeman, the
outcome would be the same. Meisel also had two candidates saved up from the
building across the street. He'd done the deal a week before that he would call
upon a couple of families. They had a couple of infirm members living with
them. One had contracted typhoid and the other was dying from scarlet fever. In
return for giving them up the policeman would do his token best to protect and
preserve the rest of the family (and wasn't there a danger of them being a
source of infection to the rest of the family?). Considering the options it was
the harsh but right thing to do Meisel put it to them. He would find the last
of his five whilst in the same block. It would be the survival of the fittest.
He'd barge in on a few possible candidates and the one who came up with the
smallest bribe would be receiving a second knock on the door later.

After the round-up and an early afternoon spent in the
Umschlagplatz Yitzhak Meisel promised himself that he would pay a visit to
Andrzej Nelkin to sort out some unfinished business. Vengeance still aggravated
his brain as much as his headache, indeed the policeman even reasoned one
wine-filled night that there was a relationship between the two. Yes, if he
could be rid of Duritz then his tormenting migraines would disappear also.

Jessica promised herself that she would keep her head down
and concentrate on her work more than usual. But hopeful, tantalisingly
thoughts couldn't help but distract the girl as she fetched and carried various
tools and tins of grease for the engineers who were checking and re-setting the
machines. Had Thomas met Adam yet? Was Adam with the smuggler now? How much
would it cost? She prayed that they had enough money to provide passage and
hide all of them together. Adam had protested but eventually Jessica had made
him vow that if they all couldn't stay together then none of them would leave.

Kolya's mind was fixed upon getting his hands on a vender in
the factory who could fill his hip flask for the day. Either his hangover was
over or the dregs of it were responsible for his morose mood. He craved a
pick-me-up. The traumatised teenager was only happy now, or just plain
functional, with a drink inside of him. It warmed him. Animated him. Kolya
touched again the half-pack of cigarettes inside his coat pocket to make sure
they were there. His secret rainy day stores of money, cigarettes and valuables
had dwindled considerably of late in funding his drinking. Although once
prudent in his business dealings Kolya couldn't care less now about the
unfavourable terms he received. Just as long he felt alive, or dead to the
world, for half of the day was all that mattered.

Adam discussed his plan with Thomas inside the apartment.

"It's best if you wait at the end of the block and that
we don't travel together. In fact you shouldn't come with me at all. There's a
slim chance I might be followed when I leave - and I don't think they'll take
too kindly to my being accompanied by a Wehrmacht Corporal. You should wait
here."

"I understand," Thomas replied and proceeded to
retrieve the envelope of money from the deep pocket of his greatcoat. Adam
raised his eyebrows in astonishment at the half-brick of banknotes the German
handed him. Even before the occupation he had seldom seen such a sum, let alone
handled it.

"Are you sure about this? Can you afford it?"

"I'm more worried about the money not being enough,
rather than it being too much."

"It should be enough. The man I'm going to speak to is
one of our more honest gangsters."

"How quick do you think he'll be able to set things
up?"

"It could be as soon as twelve hours, or as late as
twelve days. Even when I was a policeman I had little idea as to how many
people were trying to escape, or what the market was for hiding those daring to
do so on the other side of the ghetto."

"Won't arranging for all three of you to escape prove
difficult?"

"Difficult is one word for it, expensive is another.
Jessica made me promise that we'd only leave if we could all remain together,
but I'm willing to break that promise should necessity demand it. But I'll
cross, or fall off, that bridge if and when we come to it."

"You two have become close it seems."

"Our friendship is the one good thing to have come out
of this season in hell," Adam asserted. He was going to add half-jokingly
that their friendship was so precious as to make this war seem worthwhile, but
didn't.

"Have you become more than friends? Sorry, I don't mean
to pry," Thomas remarked, his words and tact unmeasured for once.

"I think we're somewhere in between saying "we
have" and "we will" in answer to that question," a gladsome
Adam answered, the unmistakable expression of a young man in love illuminating
his appearance.

"I'm happy for you, for both of you," his friend
in turn replied. Naturally Thomas did not put his doubts at their relationship
down to envy (for the Corporal might well indeed have been free from such
feelings) - but he could not deny the gnawing feelings of something upon
hearing the news. Perhaps just the sheer newness and shock of the confession
disconcerted the Corporal and that, given time to appreciate the situation, he
would give the affair his true blessing. In a way Thomas knew he would never be
able to consummate any relationship, bar friendship, with Jessica - but in turn
he felt perhaps that no one was good enough for her, including Adam. Perhaps
his feelings were just paternal though in their possessiveness.

"I'm happy for me, for once," Adam joked. Again
the German's expression was somewhat forced.

Christian Kleist filled his nostrils with the welcome smell
of polish. It was as stimulating to him as certain scents were to an amorist.
He radiated satisfaction at the freshly waxed wooden floorboards beneath his
boots. The brass fittings and windows also glistened. The room, previously
filled with desks and the staff of a senior Wehrmacht quartermaster, had been
transformed. He duly gave himself credit for spotting the venue's potential and
suitability - thinking little, or nothing, of the Polish and Jewish workers who
had actually transformed the room. Indeed it could have been deemed a hall more
so than just a room, such was its size and now austere atmosphere. The
chandeliers were attractive but not overly garish, the walnut had an air of age
and character in its grain and the view, looking out from large elliptical
windows which lined the far wall, was far more favourable than most -
 
positioned as they were over a courtyard in
which young SS recruits were assessed for their medicals. Such was the
attractiveness of the room that the Lieutenant felt the stirrings of temptation
for commandeering the space for himself. He would of course compensate the
quartermaster. The party would provide a night to remember Christian savoured,
clapping and rubbing his hands in anticipation as he did so.

Yitzhak Meisel blew into his hands to warm them, albeit they
were already mittened. In order to pick things up and search people more
efficiently the policeman had cut the finger tips off his gloves however, hence
they were bitten by the nip in the wind. His face also felt taut in the sterile
air. At least the cold subdued the evacuees the policeman reasoned as some sort
of consoling thought. Perhaps more than any other soldier or policeman Meisel had
been on duty during the daily transportations at the Umschlagplatz. At first
the constable was conscientious as a result of wanting to convince his
superiors of his loyalty and usefulness. Soon after though Meisel chose to
serve at the train station for the bribes and valuables he took whilst policing
the square. People were most vulnerable at their most desperate. He enjoyed the
authority of sending uppity Jews to their deaths - it was just desserts for the
magistrates, hypocritical society and religious zealots that had once so
vilified and punished his class.

It was whilst policing an evacuation two days before that
Meisel came up with the idea. A man was struggling and protesting about
boarding the train. He was in the middle of a crowd of people and the closest
soldier was so hemmed in that he was unable to unshoulder his rifle and
dispatch the trouble-maker as smartly as he might have liked. He threatened to
do so however but still the hysterical man tried to swim against the tide of
people who were being forced upon the freight cars by the sheer momentum of the
people jostling behind them. Suddenly though the surly SS Private was inspired.
He reached over and plucked the man's son from out of the crowd, grappling him
away from the father's grasp. His rifle still strapped to his shoulder, but
finger on the trigger, the brawny Private put the barrel to the petrified
child's head, intimating to the father that if he did not board the train
immediately he would shoot the boy. The pathetic Jew went from hysterics to
submissiveness in an instant, pleading with the soldier not to shoot - and that
he would comply. Inspired, Yitzhak Meisel was suddenly struck by the idea of
similarly finding and threatening that scavenging, slippery urchin in order to
get to Duritz. Even if he did not know where Duritz was - if indeed the
fugitive was still alive - he would take great pleasure in catching up with the
boy as a task in itself. If memory served him right the boy had a sister the
policeman indulged, glassy-eyed and all but licking his lips as he did so.

The afternoon brought intermittent showers. Even the rats
found the sleet inhospitable and retreated back into the sewers. Jessica
shivered, taking solace from the fact that she had finished for the day and was
returning home. Kolya had said to his sister that he would be home in a couple
of hours. She knew that her brother would be off risking his life by scavenging
in the apartments of recently evacuated people - and that he would probably try
and barter anything he found for alcohol. But Jessica was too tired to have an
argument with the wilful boy. So too she was selfishly looking forward to
spending time with Adam alone.

Dietmar licked his chocolate-stained fingers and then rinsed
them thoroughly in the basin with soap. He neither wanted to mark his freshly
cleaned uniform, nor did he want his fingers smelling of the sweet Belgian
chocolate he had just consumed. He lay upon his bed and started to tap his
feet, nervously thinking about the imminent party. The youth was worried that
the officers at the party would treat him as someone of a lowly rank, which he
was. What should he do if they ordered him to fetch them drinks? Officially he
was a guest like them and not staff, but Dietmar was conscious of not wanting to
cause any scenes or embarrass Christian. He reasoned that should he be asked to
get some drinks he would in turn order the nearest servant to arrange them.
Yes, that was a suitable compromise. The adjutant was also torn between wanting
to impress the senior officer’s circle he was being introduced into and
worrying about saying something out of place. Should he or should he not try to
engage people of senior rank on their level? He had hoped that Christian would
have instructed him upon the etiquette of such things - and what was to be his
role for the evening - but all his Lieutenant had ordered him to do for the
night was to not follow him around like a "poodle" during the party.
The only guest he knew and was confident enough to talk to at the party was the
very person who he had promised himself he would snub, his old Jew-loving
Corporal.