Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 79 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.
On a stone at the entrance to the cemetery, near the old inscription of the brachah of Mechayeh Hameisim, written in print letters:
When one departs from the kever, he should place his left hand on the headstone and say:
“V’nachacha Hashem tamid…v’atzmosecha yachalitz, v’hayisa k’gan raveh…”
May you rest in peace until the arrival of Menachem, the consoler, mashmia shalom.
“I’m sorry, Tatte.” Binyamin’s voice was hoarse as he removed his hand from the matzeivah and bent down to find a stone on the ground. “I’m sorry if what I did wasn’t right, and I’m sorry if what I’m about to do is not right. I don’t have with whom to consult, and I hope that I exercised the right discretion. Please, be a meilitz yosher for me and for everyone. I never meant to do any harm. I wanted us to get up and be revived again…”
He turned toward David Elkovitz. “You are not coming with me, no matter what. I’ll go myself and tell them.”
“What will you tell them?”
Binyamin sighed. “Whatever words Hashem puts in my mouth. I am thinking of a few possible options, and I hope that the one I use will be the best one.”
“Maybe it would be a good idea for me—”
“Not a good idea at all, but thank you, David, for offering to be the one who answered me on the other side of the line. It sounds much more believable this way. I hope they don’t harass you because of it.”
“And what did we talk about, if they ask me?”
“I don’t know what they heard.” Binyamin shook his head. “And the truth is, most of the conversation that I had with Hanter was in Lashon Kodesh, so I hope the Nazi hardly understood any of it. Maybe say that I asked who it is, and you didn’t understand who could be buzzing the office if he wasn’t one of the Wangels. In short, a conversation that wasn’t clear to either of us.”
Binyamin cast one last glance at his father’s kever. The rest of the matzevios reflected the light of the reddish afternoon sun as he and David set out in the direction of the kennels. “It’s very quiet here,” Binyamin said, looking around nervously. “Where are all the children?”
“They must have also been called to the factory.”
“Why, does someone think that one of them had the conversation?”
“No, but maybe the one who did was next to them, and they know a few details.”
“I hope your father-in-law will let everyone go, to live out their lives in happiness and peace.”
They walked over to the large water barrel standing near the fox cages. Binyamin washed his hands, and Elkovitz looked at him. “You know,” he said, after a moment, “at the end of the day, it’s not my father-in-law who is our biggest problem.”
“Obviously.”
“And not that I’m saying that you can trust him, because if he’s convinced that you’re the one who will bring calamity on everyone, he will feel obligated to save them. But you see that he listened to what I told him, and he trusts you that indeed, you will do what you said you would.”
“Yes.”
They stopped next to an intersection of the paths. In the middle, just before the incline that led to the factory, stood Leo, surrounded by a few of his assistants, looking directly at them.
“Go with them, David,” Binyamin said quietly. “And thanks for the company, the assistance, and…everything.”
“You’re going from here straight to the manor house?”
“Almost. I’m just stopping at the clinic to see my grandmother. I need her to convey a few words—” He fell silent for a moment as something welled up in his throat. “To my mother.”
“Who says that your grandmother is at the clinic? It’s safe to assume that she was also sent to the factory, along with everyone else.”
“In that case, I’ll leave them a note.”
They continued walking a few more steps in silence. “You know what I think?” David Elkovitz stopped, his eyes dark. “Let’s say the Nazis believe you, and believe me. And being that I don’t want to open my mouth to the Satan, you know, let’s say they only lock us up in a room for the rest of our lives, without contact with anyone. What will be with the camp in the days that follow, Binyamin? Just a few people will be left who know the truth, and they certainly won’t dare stand up to do anything.”
“Yosef Posen,” Binyamin murmured. “Besides us, he also heard Hanter on the phone, with his own ears. But he won’t be able to do anything.”
“Especially if you…” David was quiet. Then, “Especially if he sees how you tried, and failed.” He glanced toward his father-in-law, who was motioning to him impatiently, raising a hand and pointing to his watch. Time was running out, and the minutes that Wangel had allocated were slipping away.
“But he’s not the only one left, because my wife also heard a bit, and your sister, who was the first to call. They both know the truth very well.”
Binyamin didn’t answer for a moment. Finally he said, “So you want the women to get up and finish what we tried to start?”
“Why not? In the merit of the nashim tzidkaniyos, Am Yisrael was redeemed, and in their merit they will be redeemed.” Elkovitz took one more step toward the small group that was glaring at them. None of the members of the group came close to the pair as they talked. He sighed. “But it’s true that my wife won’t be able to do anything. And your sister…”
Binyamin cut him off. “Don’t talk to me about her right now.” He turned to look at the manor house some distance away to the north of them. All they could see from here was the rooftop. He wondered if Aunt Chani was in the kitchen there now. “But I thought about this point already. What can I tell you, David? Hashem ya’azor. We’ll daven—that’s all we can do.”
***
Babbe and Dr. Katzburg were not in the clinic. There were only two patients lying there; one was an older man who was sleeping, and the other was Zuretzky’s son. The latter blinked rapidly when he saw Binyamin and said, “Is that you, Binyamin? They were looking for you!”
“Who and when?”
“After they came to say that Leo is calling everyone, and Irwin went and you went, he came back with two people from the office. You people are not letting us rest!”
“I know all that, Iszak, thank you. Tell me, was my grandmother here?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe she’s in the small kitchen, or at the factory with everyone. I don’t know if they gathered the old people and the children. They didn’t take me, because I have no energy.”
Binyamin didn’t react. He walked over to Babbe’s white coat hanging over the door and pulled her small pad out of the pocket. He flipped to the last page and quickly wrote a few sentences. When he was about to put the pad back into the pocket, he paused, and then added a few more words, his eyes narrowed.
“What are you writing there?” Zuretzky asked curiously.
“Tell my grandmother I wrote her something, okay? But try to make sure no one else hears.”
“And if they do?”
“It’s not terrible either,” Binyamin said. He walked toward the door.
“You’re not going to tell me why they called everyone to the factory? I heard people talking. They are very worried, all of them. Does Wangel want to kill us, like in the scary stories from the past? Or did other Nazis discover the secret that we’re hiding here in the camp?”
“I hope the worry is not necessary, Iszak,” Binyamin said quietly to the blinking eyes. “Leo Sherer is the one who called everyone, not Wangel.”
“Oh.” Zuretzky stretched. “So you’re going there, too? Good luck.”
“That’s a very important brachah.” Binyamin’s lips curved into a smile. “Thanks, Iszak.”
***
The tension, frustration, and nerves in the living room on the ground floor were stifling.
“One hour and thirty minutes,” Wangel said, his hands closing over a crystal goblet half-filled with a clear, golden liquid. In his left hand, he picked up the phone. “I’m considering informing our friends.”
“You spoke to Hans already,” Katarina said from her place on the sofa.
“And he promised to find out if there’s any suspicious information floating around about us these last few days.”
“So, we need to wait patiently. Look, Josef, with every minute that passes, and him not making contact, I think you can calm down. It seems like nothing leaked out.”
“But we’re still going to need help dealing with this story. Even if it’s really nothing, and it was an internal conversation between two Jews—still, we must not allow such a thing to happen again, ever! We need to put on a show here, so that they shouldn’t dare touch a communication device for the next fifty years, do you understand?” He sipped what was left in his cup, his eyes red. “And if I want our friends from Vienna to come here, it will take them at least five hours.”
“So in any case we’ll have to manage on our own when the ultimatum you gave Sherer expires, in another half an hour. What are your plans in the event that no one turns in anyone else?”
“To kill five of them,” Josef grumbled. “Yes, yes, I know it’s better not to get to that point, because it means we’re going to have to manage this place in a completely different fashion, and we don’t really want that. We don’t have enough manpower for such complex management in the long term.”
“There will need to be real deterrence,” Katarina said thoughtfully.
“Absolutely, and that’s why, when I discover who that person is who spoke on the device, I will kill him myself. But about the others…”
“And if you discover it was an outside call, Papa, and that he spoke to someone on the outside, and they discovered the truth?” Teresa interjected.
“Then we’ll all have to run away from here. Everything has been ready for years, waiting for this moment. But I will do that only when it is clear that the truth has been discovered, and before that I will kill them all—just like I promised Sherer.”
“How?”
“Don’t ask questions!” her mother chided. “In any case, it’s a very remote possibility. Hans Kafnika is very well connected in all the ministries, and if there would be any suspicions about our activities, he would have updated us by now.”
“So now we are left only to wonder about the famous Jewish solidarity. What does this guy who messes them all up think now? Maybe he will turn himself in; that would be simplest for everyone,” Helena muttered. “That’s behavior that suits Jews.”
“No.” Her father waved her off. “The Jews? They’re all cowards.”
“Actually, yes,” a voice said from the window, as a hand placed a white device on the sill. “And this is what I used to speak to the office.”
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