Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 93 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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Initial Report – Death Investigation
Hour: 5:07 a.m.
Location: Marker E-65
Fatalities: 1. Female – Katarina Wangel
2. Female – Teresa Wangel
Cause of Death: Rollover of prisoner vehicle
Submitted for further investigation
Joachim Klug, Police Investigator, Main Precinct, Salzburg
Police ribbons encircled the manor house, barring entry. But no one from the camp was even looking in that direction anyway. In shul, they had long finished davening Shacharis, and were almost done packing the sefarim. Reb Mottel Kush took the sefer Torah under his responsibility. In the preschool, the children were taking their crafts off the walls, and Naomi and Rivku were scanning the room for a final time. The adults made sure to feed the animals and milk the sheep before they would be handed over to the authorities, and in the cemetery, people gathered to bid farewell and to say Kaddish one last time before they left.
They also went into the factory and divided the valuable equipment and the furs that remained there amongst each other. From the bakery came the aroma of the bread they would take with them for the way, and in the public kitchen, the women were scrubbing the cooking utensils and packing them quickly. Maybe they would need these large utensils to cook in the place where they were going.
Only Sol Sherer was still dragging his feet around the camp’s paths, and not responding to anyone aside for “yes” or “no” answers.
“Snap out of it, Sol,” David Elkovitz said, patting him encouragingly on the shoulder. He was carrying a large package in his arms. “The buses are here already. Have you packed everything up for you and your family?”
Sol looked at him. “I’m not leaving,” he said hoarsely. “It’s a plot. Don’t you realize?”
“Whose plot?”
“The Nazis from the outside! Wait and see—you’ll leave, and then they will attack you and take you to Auschwitz!”
“I don’t know if Auschwitz still exists, but let’s put that aside for a minute. Do you really still think that there is a Nazi regime on the outside?”
“Yes!”
“And here, they just guarded us lovingly all these years?”
“Yes.”
“So, who are these people?” He pointed to a group of Mr. Hanter’s workers and friends, who had been there since yesterday.
“I don’t know, but it’s a trap.”
David sighed. “Don’t stay, Sol. It would be foolish. Because you dreamed of managing this place, and now you are deluding yourself, you will stay here alone to live out your life? Believe me, it’s better to be a simple person on the outside, living in freedom, than to be a manager in a golden cage.” He took a deep breath. “Just tell me the truth: Did you know anything about this all these years? Did your father know? Did my father-in-law know?”
“About what?”
“The Wangels’ deceptions.”
“We didn’t know anything, and there isn’t anything. You are the ones deluding yourselves, and only after you leave will you regret the deaths of the Wangels, who looked out for our wellbeing all these years.”
Elkovitz shook his head and continued on his way, until he bumped into Binyamin. “I wonder if we’ll need to force Sol to come with us,” he said to Binyamin. “Looks to me like he’s having a major personal crisis. I hope he hasn’t gone totally mad… He is still insisting that there is no one like the noble Josef Wangel!”
“Let him stay,” Binyamin said. His expression froze at the sight of three figures walking from the direction of the estate, down the path, right toward them. They were followed by a few more people, walking with their hands in their pockets, a familiar posture. Binyamin forced himself to breathe evenly as he looked directly at the Austrian police commissioner and his deputy—who he had already met the night before—and the person walking alongside them with a rather authoritative gait. The people behind them seemed even more unsavory to Binyamin. They were dressed all in black, and their eyes looked blank.
“You are from here, right?” The third man said as the group approached Binyamin and David Elkovitz. He offered his hand to Elkovitz, the older of the two. “Nice to meet you. I’m Franz Vernitzky, the Chancellor of Austria.”
“Nice to meet you, too. I’m David Elkovitz.”
“Binyamin Schvirtz.”
“This is the young man who made contact with Hanter,” the police commissioner said, pointing to Binyamin.
“Courageous.” The Chancellor shook Binyamin’s hand. “The Austrian people will yet find a way to apologize for the terrible wrong that was caused to you all these years,” he said to the two Jews. “And if we’re already talking, I’d like to update you that the police car carrying two of your captors rolled off the side of the road when the driver stopped for a smoking break. Apparently the car’s brakes were not in good working order. Both women were killed on the spot.”
He continued right away, without even pausing to study their expressions. “But without any connection to that, I want to remind you, and I ask that you repeat it again to the other survivors, that right now, the agreement between us is to keep this story secret, until further notice. I assume you understand the need for that, yes?”
“Absolutely,” Binyamin replied. “And we also understand that it’s important for you.”
“Definitely,” the Chancellor replied in a friendly tone. “That is why we have agreed that we will find the best way to compensate you, both for these difficult years that you—and your parents—have endured, and for your silence. So, you are leaving today, is that right? We came to wish you success, and a good life from here on in.”
“Thanks a lot,” Binyamin said, hoping his voice would not betray his cynicism. It was obvious that the Wangels had only been able to maintain this place with help from the outside, and he would be interested in knowing if this man was a partner to the secret.
“What happened to the officer who accompanied Katarina and Teresa?” Elkovitz asked politely.
“Thank you for asking. The police officer accompanying them went out with the driver, so nothing happened to either of them.” He paused and then asked, “Where is Max Hanter?”
“He’s walking around among the people and the houses, I believe,” Elkovitz replied.
“Because I want to make up with him when we will meet next. From what I understand, you’ll all be going to a guesthouse in Bad Hofgastein now. There you’ll get acclimated with the outside world, and recover for a few days, and then we’ll have a joint meeting that will include myself, members of my government, and representatives on your behalf, to reach a fair compensation agreement.”
He said goodbye and continued walking along the paths, apparently wanting to confirm with more people that they would not disseminate this story until further notice.
Half an hour later, the gates of the Samson Lager camp opened wide.
Four buses waited among the trees, about a hundred meters from the opening in the gate; that was as far as they were able to get. The people walked through the gates, toward the buses, some of them for the first time in their lives. They glanced back at the closed-off estate and at the world that they were leaving behind.
Rabbi Schwartzbrod walked, surrounded by the other men, with the sefer Torah clutched close to him.
Elky was dragging her feet, and every so often, she kicked at the ground. She held two vouchers in her hand, and she kept glancing at them hollowly. Her mother walked beside her, carrying the baby. He was smiling, but his mother didn’t seem to notice.
David and Suzy Elkovitz walked on the side, David holding baby Cherut, who was giggling at the pretty trees in Wangel’s garden. Dror skipped along next to them, his hand inside his mother’s, as Suzy walked silently. Her mother and two sisters walked next to her; no one knew whether or not they were thinking about Leo, their husband and father, who had been left behind.
Naomi and Aryeh helped Zeide and Babbe carry their things, and Binyamin walked next to his mother. Only Rechel’s red-rimmed eyes indicated that, despite the joyous turn of events, this was not easy for her.
And they all walked out into the real world.
***
Dena and her mother-in-law walked through the rooms in the guesthouse that had been prepared. The well-appointed, three-story building was nestled in a valley, offering breathtaking scenery. Mountains soared high all around them, and behind the building was a clear, sparkling lake. The women placed a bar of chocolate on each bed; they hadn’t been able to organize anything more on such short notice.
“I think you should go there, Dena,” Bentzy had told her this morning on the phone. “With my mother. We need someone who can speak to the women and the girls here, do you know what I mean?” He sat in the van, his forehead pressed against the glass. His eyes closed every so often. “It’s about a two-and-a-quarter-hour drive from Vienna, but I really think it’s important that you come, both of you.”
“What…what am I supposed to do there?” Dena had asked. Dovi and Shloimy were still sleeping.
“Speak to them, tell them what is really happening in the world, calm them, encourage them…you’ll see. The ones that I spoke to refused to believe me at first. And the older ones? They were in absolute shock. It can’t be easy for any of them. It’s traumatic. Think about it! Suddenly to discover that the world you were familiar with all your life was an illusion of sorts…”
“Okay, I’ll come,” she had responded quietly.
Was it possible to say that it had all started with her?
Her mother and sisters would never believe this story! Neither would her friend Charna.
Dena put a bar of chocolate down in the last room and walked out to the long front balcony. It ran across the façade of the building and was lined with comfortable chairs and benches.
“Is everything good, Yehudis?” Mrs. Domb, the owner of the guesthouse, asked, emerging from one of the rooms. “It’s beautifully set up, isn’t it? What a nes that it was empty; otherwise we would not have been able to give you so many beds. This time it really is a huge group. And I’m waiting with bated breath to see these people for myself! This whole story doesn’t make sense, if you ask me. Are you sure no one is tricking you?”
Dena’s mother-in-law nodded. “But remember, they asked us not to spread the story any further. My husband trusts your family completely, which is why he chose to bring them here.”
“Yes, of course, of course.” Mrs. Domb smiled. “I remember very well. We’ll keep quiet, of course.”
That was when Dena realized that she wouldn’t be able to tell a soul about the strangest, most nonsensical, and yet most crucial, phone call she’d ever had.
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