Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 45 of a new online serial novel, Nine A.M., by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.
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Nirtzach (Murdered)
Binyamin leaned over the headstone, nearly pressing his face to the ground, as he passed a finger over each letter. Nun. Reish. Tzaddi. Ches. The ink was long dry, and he had no way of knowing if the word had been written two days ago, a month ago, or more. The last time he’d been here, on Tatte’s yahrtzeit, it wasn’t there.
Who had taken the pains to write this on the side of Tatte’s matzeivah? Was it someone who wanted to convey a message of sorts and was afraid of it being discovered, or did it just express strong pain?
Binyamin sat down on the ground, leaning his head on the large, rectangular stone. He was supposed to be davening. Naomi had asked him to. But his lips were dry. Who knew what had happened to his father? Mamme, maybe. Her fear of speaking about it was telling.
And Babbe. Maybe Dr. Katzburg as well. Apparently one of them had hidden away Tatte’s hospitalization record card. Perhaps the one who it was had received orders from higher up.
Had one of those three women written this word?
Binyamin’s lips curled into an involuntary smile as he envisioned his grandmother leaning over her son-in-law’s headstone and writing accusingly, in heavy black ink: “Nirtzach.”
No, it definitely wasn’t her. Babbe was a deliberate and responsible woman, and she wouldn’t do something so senseless.
Mamme certainly wouldn’t either.
And the doctor? Why in the world?
It must have been someone who was determined to reveal the truth.
Like him.
And it was someone who had clear information, more than he had. He hardly knew anything. Some scattered memories, fragments of words, Mamme’s expression, her ambiguous remarks…
If Tatte had indeed been murdered, there had to be a very weighty reason for it. Had he angered someone from the Nazi hierarchy in the camp to such an extent? Or did they have a reason to be afraid of him?
The first notion didn’t make so much sense. If he would have angered them, his murder would not have become a threatening secret.
So…were they afraid of him? But why? What had he discovered about them?
Perhaps he had found a way to get to Heydrich, Katarina’s father, to report to him about the corruption in the camp management. And Josef and Katarina and their friends from the Wehrmacht had panicked. So was that Tatte’s secret? Had he informed on them?
But Tatte had been a wise man. It was hard to believe that he’d act behind the backs of those directly on top of him. Unless…unless he’d seen something terrible and wasn’t able to keep quiet about it, so he’d threatened to inform on them, or he’d actually done it.
Binyamin slowly stood up. The picture was forming in his mind, and its details were getting organized in a rather logical way. It was a very real possibility, perhaps the only one of all the others he’d thought of. He’d ask Babbe to fill in all the rest.
Well, not all. He knew he wouldn’t be able to extract from Babbe anything she didn’t want to tell. But she’d understand that he had to know at least something, and she’d share part of the story. He was desperate to know.
And if he would not succeed, he’d look and find the person who’d written this word on the matzeivah.
The person was not particularly smart. True, the word was written on the side that faced the wall, and not too many chose this narrow strip for their walks, but still… There was always the possibility that someone would see it. And that could be dangerous.
He’d come again tomorrow, and bring along some cleaning materials.
But before anything, he needed to say a perek of Tehillim for Naomi’s success. She was probably almost finished her conversation with Wangel.
***
Hauptmann Katarina was sitting on the bench in her meticulously tended garden, sipping something from a tall, red glass. Beside her was a matching plate, with three cookies on it.
“She wanted to speak to you, Mother,” Teresa announced, and disappeared.
Katarina turned her gaze to the young woman who was approaching tentatively, and a crooked smile crossed her lips. “Schvirtz!” she said. “What happened? The work day isn’t yet over.”
“That’s right,” Naomi said quietly. “Thank you for agreeing to hear me out now. The others are watching the children right now.”
“If two can manage alone with the children, maybe it’s needless to pay salaries to three girls for this work.” The Hauptmann put her empty cup down on the bench beside her and took a cookie.
“It’s not usually needless,” Naomi replied. “Right now it happens to be a relatively calm time, and because of the urgency of this matter, I was able to leave the children playing under the supervision of two others.”
“What’s the urgency?”
“It’s about Kush.”
“Which Kush?”
“The husband of Elky Kush, my friend.”
“Is that the girl who works with Leo Sherer?”
Naomi nodded.
“So, what’s with him?”
“He collapsed two days ago, and they cannot seem to get him to recover. The doctor suggested blood tests.”
“If his wife works for Leo Sherer, why didn’t he reach out to us?”
“He prefers to get as little involved as possible in these matters,” Naomi said candidly. “There are lots of requests, lots of needs…he can’t ask for everyone.”
The Hauptmann was quiet for a long moment. Three ducks in a row waddled around near the bench, and she broke the cookie in her hand into little pieces and tossed them to the ground. The ducks attacked the pieces, pushing one another away. Naomi’s eyes followed them.
“What does he do, this Kush?” Katarina asked after two cookie pieces had disappeared down the ducks’ gullets.
“Something in the factory.” Naomi leaned on the nearest tree and wondered for a moment if her father had planted it. “I don’t know exactly.”
“Not someone who can’t be replaced.”
“No person can be replaced.”
“You people have been collapsing this year at a very high rate,” the Nazi grumbled. “Start taking better care of yourselves! Because I know what’s going to be. We’ll start with a blood test for him, and next week three more will need it urgently.”
“It shouldn’t be that way,” Naomi said. “It’s not something contagious. It’s a strange illness that only he has been afflicted with. And last year, you also sent a blood sample to a private lab, and it was a one-time thing that did not lead to other cases.”
“Not other cases, but then the necessary treatment had to be obtained. With Kush it won’t end with the blood test either, right? There’ll be a test, results, and your certified doctor,” she chuckled, “will also want medicine for him, won’t she? Why can’t you just quietly bear the fact that sometimes people get sick, and they die?”
Naomi did not blink. “His family would be very sad. And besides, the bonds between us, the residents of the camp, are very strong. The passing of someone who, in essence, is healthy, might really affect people’s morale.” Was that what Babbe would have chosen to say?
Katarina took the final cookie from the plate and gnawed at it in silence.
More silence.
Naomi was still as well. The ducks were waddling around them in circles, and only after a few long moments, when they internalized that the third cookie had disappeared, did they move off, quacking loudly and plaintively.
Katarina stood up. “Alright,” she said. “Not that I believe what you’re telling me about strong ties and all that. We know the truth about the discord, but we’ll put it aside for the moment. Let Katzburg give me as many vials as she wants within the next two hours, with no identifying details. I’m going to Vienna this afternoon.”
“Thank you so much, Hauptmann.” Naomi stood straight up, barely allowing herself to breathe.
“Tell your grandmother that even if people here don’t have replacements, as in your view, I see that she already has one.” She smiled that crooked grin again, and Naomi realized that this was meant as a compliment for her, so she smiled politely in return. When she turned around and walked back to the gate, she saw from the window of the manor house a figure plucking a garlic head off the gnarl of herbs hanging on the braided rope, and with the other hand, waving cautiously at her.
***
There was already such a list. There had been.
Suri, the other secretary, had dealt with just such a thing over the past few days.
Had it gotten lost?
Or…was there someone trying to make sure to fill her time in the office?
The floor outside was dry already, and the kind grandmother had taken her grandson to the playroom to choose a toy that would keep him busy. But Dena was still sitting motionlessly on the couch. When she’d gotten the job at her father-in-law’s office, she’d wondered how much they needed another secretary. She’d explained to herself that in such a big factory, another pair of hands would never be too much, which in essence was what Bentzy had told her.
Maybe he had altered the truth so she should have what to do.
It was awful to think about it.
And it was even more awful to think that Suri, the other secretary, was in on the plot. Had she also been told that the relative who’d suddenly turned up in the office was a miserable, meek figure who had nothing to do, and was being sent here to keep her busy?
She got up from the couch and walked out of the large living room. She saw her own reflection in the mirror, with the agitation evident in her every move. “I think I’ll head out to the factory now,” she said to her mother-in-law, who was busy helping Shloimy with some huge building blocks.
“Now? So early?”
“Yes, I want to check if…I want to check something in the office.”
“How will you get there?”
“I’ll walk. I know the way, it’s not far, and during the day it’s for sure safe.”
“Whatever you want,” her mother-in-law said. And she smiled that smile that Dena usually liked, but which today, appeared to be pitying and somewhat mocking.
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