Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 83 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.
I heard what you said about the one who came. I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of me.
I’ve left, and I’m not going into any other house.
You told me to take whatever I need; I took a bit of food and the rope that was at the bottom of the trunk.
Thank you for everything.
The unsigned note was the only memento left inside the large linen trunk that Chaya Kush had brought with her as a dowry. The trunk was made of high-quality wood, with a broad metal band at its base. For a quarter of a century, it had been faithfully storing the winter blankets and other sundry items. Over the past half a day, it had helped store something else.
Elimelech Kush didn’t need a signature to know who had written the note. “But how did he leave in broad daylight without being seen?” he asked his wife, Chaya.
“I don’t know,” she said as she shook out a feather quilt, as if Binyamin would come tumbling out of it. “What did he hear?”
“What we said about Bernard at lunch.”
“Ah, yes,” she said with a slight shudder. “Bernard also came to the sewing room, and it was horrible. It’s a miracle that he didn’t figure out who Binyamin’s mother is; otherwise, he would have probably directed all his hollering at her.”
“He knows how to holler and how to threaten,” Elimelech agreed. “But it was special to see Reb Nachum remain calm and unruffled when he came into the courtyard of the shul… Ultimately, Bernard didn’t do anything to him or to Rav Schwartzbrod, baruch Hashem. Actually, to the best of my knowledge, he didn’t hurt anyone throughout the day.”
“They said he broke something at the factory.”
“A chair. Nothing major.” Elimelech tore the note into pieces so tiny, they were almost invisible. “He mainly just scared everyone.”
“That’s bad enough.”
“Not as bad as what might yet happen,” he said grimly. “But what is worrying me the most is the question of where Binyamin is hiding, if he’s not with one of us.”
“He has a forest, a factory, the building with the offices, the warehouse, the kennels…” she said, motioning with her hand to the open window.
“That’s nothing. A quick scan, and he’ll be found. I think I’ll tell his family that he left.”
“But you’re not allowed to go out now!” she protested. “Why run to tell them?”
“Why tell them? So that they can daven.”
***
It was obvious that no one had visited the slightly sloping roof of the manor house for a long time. Crumbling autumn leaves, the few that weren’t tossed away by the wind, were still scattered there; fresh spring greenery peeked out from between the wooden beams and the shingles.
Binyamin’s feet were planted on the frame of the highest window on the third floor, his hand gripping the drainage pipe attached to the roof, and he pulled himself upward. For now, he was managing fine with this pipe and the protruding window cornices. When he’d have the chance, he’d have to find out who to thank for this—the one who had built this remote summer home a hundred and fifty years ago, or the Jews who were brought here by two Wehrmacht officers, and among doing their other tasks, took the effort to renovate and turn the place into a real house.
To his right was a dark, narrow rectangle that looked like a hole in the roof, and Binyamin quickly crawled toward it. There was a transparent cover that he quickly moved aside, and the rectangle turned out to be the opening to a deep, dark shaft. Binyamin surmised that it was the opening to the chimney that had served in the past as a way to heat the manor house. He had no idea where the actual furnace was. If it was on the first or second floor, it wouldn’t help, because he had nothing to look for there. But if the furnace was on the third floor, that would be ideal for him.
He would wait a few hours, and when he was sure the Wangels had all fallen asleep, he’d find a way to measure the depth of the shaft.
Meanwhile, he lay down on his side, with his face turned toward the sky. He took out of his pocket some cookies that Mottel’s father had left for him that morning, made a brachah and bit into one.
The moon slowly rose higher in the sky, and Binyamin felt an urge to cry. “Hashem, I…” he whispered. But he discovered that, while he was able to express himself clearly to his father, and in the note to his mother and Naomi, here, he was at a loss for words.
He carefully raised his head. The camp should be spread out at the foot of the manor house, but in the absolute darkness at this hour, he could hardly see a thing. By the dim light of the moon, he could barely discern the trees at the foot of the eastern wall, completely concealing the factory building. On the other side, he saw the sparsely wooded western slope; amidst those trees were the animal kennels. Between these two areas was an almost flat plain, where—with some effort—he could discern dozens of rectangular shadows, which looked like abandoned houses.
Binyamin put his head back down. The shingle that his cheek was touching was cold and a bit moist. “Hashem, I want to get out of here and to take everyone to freedom,” he said finally. “Without anyone getting hurt. I can’t even ask the rav how much hishtadlus I’m supposed to do for this. Please, be with me.” He blinked, and an errant and completely unmanly tear got stuck in his right eye. “And let me…feel that you’re with me.” He fell silent again. Then he added a perek of Tehillim, so that he could also rely on Dovid Hamelech’s words, and fell asleep.
When he opened his eyes, the moon was right over his head, high in the sky. He took a deep breath, and crawled again toward the shaft. With careful, quiet movements, he unwound the rope that had been tied around his waist, and scanned with his eyes for an object that he could use as a weight. He found a broken shingle that had been thrown to the edge of the roof, and tied it to the rope.
Again, Binyamin went back to the opening of the chimney and began to release the rope into it. A bit, and then a bit more…oops, he felt a change, as the rope apparently hit an obstacle of some sort. Binyamin moved the rope from side to side, to try to release the shingle, in the event that it was just a protrusion. But it seemed that the rope’s journey had come to an end. Binyamin kept holding the rope, and with his second hand, he pulled it back. Now he could check the length of the rope from his fisted hand until the broken shingle. Not too long. Not too long at all. It was the depth of one floor, not more.
Which meant that this chimney led to the third floor, the one the Wangels used the least. They went up there only when they had to don their uniforms or arm themselves with better weapons.
He would have wanted go down there this minute, but it was safe to assume that the Wangels would not be going to sleep so early tonight—if at all. And if Bernard would still be awake, the danger could be even greater.
***
“Someone’s knocking!” Katarina said with a yawn, her eyes red. “Is the front gate locked, Josef?”
“Yes.”
“So who do you think it is?”
“One of the Jews,” he said, glancing at the wall clock. “Three-thirty in the morning! Maybe it’s that impudent Schvirtz, coming to turn himself in a second time. And I don’t know if I should be happy that Bernard has already gone to sleep, because I would not want him to strangle the kid or anything, even if he deserves it.”
“We don’t need to be afraid of Hans,” she snapped. “So what if he thinks we should be handling this in a calmer fashion! We’re the ones dealing with it, not him!”
“I’m not afraid!” Her husband’s tone rose as he turned to the door. “But I think he is right. To an extent.”
“Really?” She sounded mocking. “Or did you start thinking that only after two days of us discovering how little deterrent power we really have, as this Schvirtz continues to wander around on our grounds, free and alive?”
“I am seriously considering killing him when I find him.” Josef glanced through the peephole in the door. “But we’ll talk about that soon. In any case, it won’t be in a heated assault by Bernard.”
“Is it him?” she whispered.
“No,” he said, and opened the door. “You’re Sherer’s daughter! What do you want?” he barked.
Eva’s voice was trembling. “I’m sorry, Herr Wangel,” she began. “Excuse the hour, but my father feels…horrible. And Dr. Annie says that only you can help him now.”
“We? How? In the middle of the night you won’t get any help from us, that’s for sure. You’re supposed to be in your house right now. Do you have a permit to be outside?”
“It’s an emergency, Herr Wangel. Dr. Katzburg sent me to you urgently. She said that you have this…device, something that saves the heart from collapsing!” Eva was crying tears now. “A device that gives an electric shock to the heart. Please!”
“Who doesn’t feel well, Josef?” Katarina asked from inside the room.
“Sherer,” he said, turning around. “Leo Sherer. And they want that medical device—what’s it called?—that Katzburg advised us to buy once when we worried that rescue forces would never be able to get here fast enough, in the event that one of us would stop breathing or something.”
“One of us,” Katarina repeated. “Not one of the Jews! But he’s not just anyone, huh?”
“That’s right,” he said thoughtfully.
Katarina came to the door and studied Eva from her feet to her head. “Come to think of it, we should have thought of this when Katzburg made that recommendation: She was obviously thinking about her Jewish brethren! You are all the same… Do you know how much we paid for it? It’s something only hospitals have!”
Eva was quiet, her eyes dripping uncontrollably.
“Come back in ten minutes,” Katarina said. “Not one minute before. And pray to your G-d that Bernard doesn’t wake up in the meantime. He’s frustrated enough that we’re not letting him do anything here; he’ll go mad if he realizes we are going to save your father!”
Eva stood in the yard for ten minutes, trembling, wondering if they really needed this time to find the device, or if it was just a way to drag out their response. After ten minutes she got what she had asked for, but then she had to stand for three more long minutes until Katarina finished explaining to her how vital it was for her take good care of this expensive device.
By the time she returned home, it was too late.
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