Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 59 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.
A torn page flying around on the ground in the camp, near the Wangels’ garden:
I have no energy anymore,
But I have to earn enough.
It’s impossible for me to imagine life when we are destitute—like others here.
The little paper had the misfortune of getting stuck to the sole of Wangel’s left boot, as he entered the manor house’s garden from the direction of the camp. With repulsion, Wangel removed the stained paper that had stuck to his boot and crumpled it into a ball. After a minute, regretting it, he opened the paper and smoothed it out. He would find the one who had thrown trash on the ground!
But there was no name on the paper. It was a torn paper from a work hours report, and on the other side, there was Hungarian writing. Wangel wondered who he could ask to translate the words for him. Of course, Leo Sherer would be a good choice, but he might perceive it as belittling to be asked to translate two lines on a torn note. Maybe his younger daughter Eva could do it.
At that moment, his wife and two daughters entered the front gate of the manor house’s garden.
“Hi, Josef!”
“Hello! So, did you all enjoy yourselves in Vienna?”
“Very much,” she said, and walked into the house, kicking off her high heels. “A bit of vacation from all of…” She opened her arms in a motion that encompassed the area beyond the wall.
“Without all of this, Mother, we wouldn’t have had the money for that hotel,” her younger daughter, Helena, said as she sank into an armchair. “I’m just waiting for the day when we buy a private helicopter. These hours of traveling are abnormally exhausting!”
“How was it here in the meantime, Father?” Teresa asked.
“Fine, except for the fact that this piece of garbage was here at the entrance to our garden, and yesterday, one of those clumsy workers got the cordless phone wet. I made him fix it.”
“Who was it?” Katarina’s forehead creased.
“Elkovitz.”
“Their big son?”
“No, David himself!”
“Strange,” she remarked. “How did that happen?”
“He was busy with that disgusting pool of the skins, just as I was standing there. My clothing also got a little wet, but the workers have dealt with that already. This morning I got everything back, clean and fresh-smelling.” His face contorted in anger and disgust, and he muttered something unintelligible, before concluding, “Well, he won’t be getting a salary for three months after this! And I hope the rest of them learned their lesson from it. Helena, go and bring me the intercom, page the office, and instruct Eva Sherer to come here.”
“Why?” Helena didn’t move from her chair.
“I want her to translate something from Hungarian for me.”
“What?” his wife asked.
“This paper.”
“Why does it interest you so much?”
Josef pursed his lips together. “I want to know who sullied our garden.”
Katarina yawned. “The wind must have blown it in here. In any case, I’m planning to sleep for a good few hours now, or at least right after lunch. Helena, go and tell Chani that we’ve arrived and that we’re waiting to eat right now!”
“I have to do that, too?” their daughter grumbled. “I’m getting Eva over here. Let Teresa go to the kitchen and tell Chani. Really! Why can’t that spoiled brat move a little?” She got up with a sigh and went out to the hallway, picked up the intercom from its base, and pressed on the green button. “Hey!” she called into it. “Who is there?”
“It’s Elky Kush.”
“Good. Tell Eva that we’re waiting for her here at the manor house. Now.”
“Yes, Gefreiter.”
Helena hung up and put the device back in its place. She returned to the living room. “Eva will be here in a few minutes, alright?”
“And the food is ready,” Teresa said, coming in right behind her sister. “The table is set, too.”
“I ate just a short while ago,” Josef said. “And I don’t have an appetite right now. Tell me, Katarina, did you meet Bernard at all? Did he end up coming to the hotel?”
“No. He wasn’t in the mood; he was too busy with tests and parties with his friends.”
“I hope he remembers not to drink.” Josef’s face clouded. “I don’t trust him completely. He is making too much noise about his project and his imaginary newspaper.”
“Everything is fine,” Katarina replied, carefully arranging her rings. “And stop being so uptight all the time. After so many years, no one will fathom what Bernard’s crazy articles are really doing, and if he blurts out a word after drinking too much, people will just think it’s all part of his delusions. Okay, whatever, I’m going to eat. Even the chef at the hotel doesn’t know how to cook like Chani does.”
Josef stretched out on the leather couch and wondered if he should call Bernard. His wife’s reassurances did little to assuage his concerns; the many years that they’d kept the secret would not help if their talented son went and blew it all up one day, in one minute that involved a few extra ounces of alcohol. Who else among those who knew the secret in the past and the present would dare drink himself drunk among strangers? That was exactly why they held their own closed parties here, on the estate.
But Bernard had insisted on studying at the University of Vienna. He was earning good grades, but his delusional dreams of the resurrection of the Reich regime could mark him as a target by other students who were looking to shake off the glorious past. And one extra word from him was a risk that was too great to take.
Josef felt his tension mounting. He took the cordless phone in his hand, studying it suspiciously, as if a drop of smelly liquid might suddenly leak out from behind one of its buttons. He reached for his pocket phonebook to look up the number of the phone line in Bernard’s apartment.
But even before he turned to the right page, the phone in his hand rang.
“Hello?” he said gruffly. Maybe it was Bernard himself calling just in time?
“Hello.” It was a young, unfamiliar voice. “Have I reached the office of the Der Cosmos newspaper?”
“What?” Josef’s head fell back against the couch with a thud. What had Bernard done now?!
“Is this the office of Der Cosmos?”
Was this a joke, or what?
“Who exactly are you looking for?” the Hauptmann barked.
“I don’t really know…” The caller hesitated. “The journalist who is responsible for your articles. I wanted to inquire regarding something that is going to be published in your paper.”
“How do you know about articles that are going to be published before they appear?”
“Well, when we are interviewed, we understand that something is going to be written, based on the interview.”
Josef felt like he could not sit for even one second longer, and he jumped to his feet. “Who are you?” he snapped. “Who interviewed you? Bernard?”
“Hanter.”
“Hanter interviewed you? Who is that?”
“No, my name is Hanter, from Vienna.”
***
“What is this?” Katarina chewed on roasted meat and poured some clear chestnut wine into her goblet. “Who wrote this nonsense?”
“I have no idea,” Eva said respectfully. She was standing at the table of the Hauptmann and the two Gefreiters. It was strange to see them without their uniforms.
“And what is on the second side? A work hours report?” Teresa set aside her cloth napkin. “Where is the Jewish boy, Chani’s son?”
Meir peeked through the door of the dining hall, where he was stationed throughout the meal to make sure nothing was missing.
“Tell your mother to serve dessert already; we’re tired,” the Gefreiter told him. She turned back to Eva, who was standing at a certain angle behind her. “How many hours a day does this person work?”
“A lot,” Eva replied carefully, after a moment’s perusal.
“And it’s one of the Hungarian speakers.”
“We all speak Hungarian, even those who originate from Poland,” Eva said.
“Yes, but writing in Hungarian is more significant,” Katarina retorted. She took the dirty paper from Eva’s hand and studied the hours herself. “It really is a lot of hours! Who works so many hours a day by you?” Then she dropped the paper to the floor in disgust, closely studying the finger that had gotten a bit dirty. “Ugh, it’s full of mud. Pick it up, quickly, so it doesn’t make our floors dirty!”
Eva bent down and picked up the paper.
“So check in the office who worked all these hours last week, and report back to us about it,” Katarina said, clearly irritated.
“I’ll ask,” Eva said carefully, and nodded with respect. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t have to check anything. She’d just tell Elky Kush that it would be a good idea for her to find a way to calm down Katarina and her husband, as quickly as possible. She turned around with the crumpled paper and left the dining hall.
At the last second, she hurried to get out of the way of Hauptmann Wangel, who stormed furiously into the dining room, holding the cordless phone.
“That Bernard has gone too far!” he shouted, and then caught himself. “Go to the kitchen, boy!” he screamed at Meir, who arrived at that moment with a beautifully prepared tray of Sacher torte.
Meir fled.
“Father, our cake!” Helena whined.
“In a minute!” he said, breathing hard. He listened to the front door close, which told him that Leo Sherer’s daughter had also finally left. Then he went over and closed both doors to the dining hall, leaving only his wife and daughters in earshot. “Did you hear? Bernard has gone too far, and if he were here now, I would take a whip and beat him! He’s started involving outsiders in writing for his newspaper!”
“He once told you that that is what he is doing,” Katarina said. “Not all of the ideas for articles are his. He shared the idea of ‘what would be if the Reich would have continued’ with a few select friends, who are sure that this is all part of his history research, and they work on the articles together.” “But I just got a very disturbing phone call!” Josef fumed. “Someone went to interview a person, in the name of this newspaper! I didn’t get the whole story, and the call was cut off, but tell me: does Bernard have a friend named Hanter?”
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