Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 56 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.
Copyright © Israel Bookshop Publications.
Sign next to the soaking pools:
If it is not necessary for you to be here, do not stand in this area. Some of the materials are corrosive and harmful to your health!
David Elkovitz didn’t usually spend a lot of time around the smelly pool area. But now he was standing in for his father-in-law, whose fever had spiked the day before, to accompany Hauptmann Wangel on his routine inspection of the factory.
The cordless telephone was stuck in the pocket of the man’s brown uniform, and Elkovitz had a few ideas about how to get him to take the phone out of his pocket and put it down in a random place, so that he could forget about it for at least ten precious minutes.
The Nazi delicately pressed two fingers to his nose. “The substance in there doesn’t look clean,” he snapped. “When was the liquid last changed?”
“Yesterday, Herr Wangel,” said Pinchas, one of those in charge, as he nervously raked his fingers through his graying cowlick. “The color you are seeing is caused by the furs that are resting on the bottom of the pool.”
“And everything is as high-quality as usual,” Aryeh chimed in from the side. He was holding a large stick, and checking something in the depths of the pool.
“It actually doesn’t look high-quality at all,” Wangel groused.
“You might have something there,” Elkovitz said, and then without another word, he plucked the stick out of Aryeh’s hand. “I think there’s something there at the bottom, Klein, don’t you think? Something isn’t dissolving there the way it’s supposed to?” He moved the stick with large, circular motions. “Or is it the fur that is lying there, folded over?”
“It’s not folded over, Elkovitz,” Pinchas said indignantly.
David ignored him. “I think it is,” he said, and beat with the stick over and over in the depths of the pool, before sharply pulling it out. The fur came up on the end of the stick, heavy and dripping, and then promptly plopped right back into the liquid, creating a filthy wave that splashed upward and sprayed all those standing around with a shower of droplets.
“Hey!” Everyone jumped backward, but it was too late. Wangel’s brown jacket was all wet on the right side, and the man reddened in rage. “You klutz!” he howled at Elkovitz. “What was Leo thinking when he took you for a son-in-law?! You can’t even let the experts do their work without disrupting them! You’re going to lose your salary for the next three months!”
“I’m so sorry, Herr Wangel,” Elkovitz said, pale-faced; his alarm was half real and half faked. Truth be told, his plan had been even more successful than he’d intended. Was it too successful?
Wangel took off his jacket, but not before taking the cordless phone out of his pocket. “It’s all wet!” he roared furiously, holding the dripping phone with disgust. “Take it and dry it completely for me! I want it back in ten minutes, in working order! And if it’s broken beyond repair—you’ll pay for it with another three months’ salary!”
Elkovitz’s hand shook a bit as he took the phone and walked off. A fearful silence hovered over the production floor; no one wanted to be in his place right now.
***
Naomi had no idea how these things worked in the outside world, and she wasn’t sure that the words she’d choose would be the most appropriate. But she’d had the opportunity to read surveys and interviews that had appeared in the newspapers they sometimes got. Even Sherer’s newspaper had learned the concept, and once in a while, they had surveys among the camp residents, and then they published the responses in an article.
As she heard the long, monotonous tone of the device, she offered up a quick, silent prayer. She glanced at Suzy Elkovitz, who was waiting near the door, and pressed the digits on the phone according to the order on the note. Three, four, five, one, eight, nine, zero.
The tone was replaced by a series of prolonged rings.
“Yes, that’s how it’s supposed to sound,” Suzy whispered, apparently hearing the sounds all the way from where she was standing.
Two rings. Three. Four.
“Good morning,” a woman’s voice answered in German. It sounded very different from Wangel’s dialect, and Naomi wondered where exactly this spices factory was located.
“Good morning,” she replied, not sure if her words sounded shaky or if she was imagining it. “Have I reached the Hanters?”
“That’s right.”
“Am I speaking with the…owner of the factory?” She almost asked if it was the Hauptmann herself, but then realized that the Hanters did not necessarily belong to the Wehrmacht, like the Wangels did.
“With the secretary.”
“Can I ask you a few questions, please? I’m a journalist.”
The other woman was quiet for a few seconds, and Naomi heard some whispering in the background. She hoped she wasn’t falling into some type of trap.
The woman was back. “From which newspaper, can I ask?”
“Der Cosmos,” Naomi blurted out. It was the only newspaper from the outside world that she was familiar with.
“Der Cosmos?” Again, a moment of quiet. “I’m not familiar with it. What do you want to ask?”
“We are working on an article about relations between employees and employers,” Naomi said pleasantly. “Could you tell me how many workers are employed at your factory?”
“About thirty.”
“And do you know some of them?”
“Yes, to some extent…” The secretary did not sound very excited to be answering these questions.
“Can you tell me which religions they belong do?” It was actually a foolish question. As if someone would tell a journalist if anything unsavory was going on in the factory.
“Most of them are Jews, and a few are Catholics.”
Naomi turned to face Suzy, openmouthed. Suzy was also staring at her.
“Excuse me?” the voice on the other end said. “Are you still there?”
If she’d gotten an answer to the first question, maybe she would get an answer to the next one as well. “Yes, er, sorry. And…how do you treat your employees?”
“We treat them very well, with very generous salaries.”
“For the employees of both religions?”
“Absolutely.”
Naomi felt her heart pounding at an insane pace, but she could not help herself. “I’m sorry for asking, but could you tell me which religion you belong to?”
“I’m Jewish, and your questions sound very strange, ma’am. You sound a bit hostile. Perhaps you can tell me which religion you belong to?”
At this point, Naomi pressed the top button, barely allowing herself to breathe, and the call was cut off.
***
“That was the strangest phone call I’ve ever had in my life,” Suri said to Dena, sitting across from her. “That’s an interview? One and a half questions, and then hang up? She sounded anti-Semitic. And what’s this newspaper, Der Cosmos? I’ve never heard of it.”
“How can you know about all the newspapers published in Austria? I’m sure it’s not the type of paper you’d bring into your house,” Dena replied. “It’s scary to think about the anti-Semites that are around…”
“She didn’t exactly sound anti-Semitic, but I didn’t like her questions. When people start to nose around too much about the religion of the workers and how we treat them, it sounds awful. Who knows what kind of horrible article she’s going to write about us… I think you should tell this to your husband, and your father-in-law, and they should check if it can be stopped, before this place’s excellent reputation is destroyed due to an article in a small, silly, anti-Semitic paper. Sometimes, these radical groups cause much more damage than we can imagine.”
“True,” Dena said thoughtfully. “I’ll go over to them now. Is there any important meeting or something going on?”
“I’m not sure. I think they’re in the packing hall. Maybe write a note or something, and we’ll pass it on with one of the workers.”
“Okay,” Dena agreed. She tore off a paper from the factory memo pad, and wrote in Hebrew: A journalist just called from the newspaper Der Cosmos, asking strange questions about the religions of our employees. She also asked if the Catholics get fair treatment here. It sounded strange and anti-Semitic. Maybe it’s worth trying to find out what she is planning to write?
Suri took the note and left the office. She returned a few moments later, empty-handed. “I sent it to them,” she said. “I don’t think we need to be nervous, especially now that it’s been handed over to the management.”
She could say that, because she was just a secretary, receiving a salary. But Dena found that she was feeling very tense and nervous. What kind of damage could a small, anti-Semitic article do? Might someone target the lives of her family, chalilah?
And more than ever before, she wanted desperately to be back in Israel, at home.
***
Naomi sat down on a chair, staring wordlessly at Suzy, who returned the gaze.
“It…” Suzy said, and stopped when someone knocked at the door.
Naomi leaped out of her seat and stuck the metal telephone device into an overturned wooden bowl that she’d washed the night before. Then she went over to the door. “It will be fine. You’ll see that he’ll recover,” she said in an encouraging tone as she opened the door. “Children figure it out at the end.”
One of the children who worked in the kennels stood there. “Oh, you really are here,” he said to Suzy. “Your husband said this is probably where you are.” He ceremoniously handed over Wangel’s cordless phone, which was emitting a foul odor. “He asked you to fix this; otherwise, he won’t be getting a salary for half a year.”
Suzy paled. “What?”
“That’s what he said. And the Hauptmann is really, really angry.” The boy grew serious. “So it has to be fast.”
Suzy glanced at the wet device that had been handed to her. “Where is Herr Wangel now?” she whispered tensely.
“In the factory. He stayed to continue his inspection, and yelled that he’s waiting for the phone to be returned in a few minutes.” Without another word, the boy ran off.
“Do they have another receiver, or device, or whatever-you-call-it?” Naomi suddenly asked. “Someone else who might hear me talk on the phone?”
“Only at the manor house.”
“And he’s not there now.”
“No, if we understood the boy correctly.” She stepped out onto the empty path. “I’m running home to fix this.”
“And I’m calling Hanter again,” Naomi said decisively.

