When he finally broke off the kiss, Ludwig said, “I love you, Aliz. Do you love me back?"
"Yes,” Aliz said, but her eyes were lowered, her voice tremulous.
"Tell it to me again. And look at me this time.”
Aliz raised her eyes, and I saw they were a vibrant green. I also saw that she was very pretty, with a heart-shaped face and small features, and skin that was somehow still rosy despite her living here in Auschwitz.
"I love you, Ludwig,” she said, but she didn’t smile one bit.
It appeared that Ludwig hadn’t noticed the discrepancy. He kissed her again, even harder this time, mashing his lips on hers. One of his hands found her breast, and I thought I heard a tiny gasp emerge from her throat.
I'll see you later, my love," Ludwig said, caressing her cheek. I'll bring you something good to eat, okay? Some chocolate, maybe. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
"Yes," Aliz said, her lips reddened by the kiss. "I would like that very much, Ludwig."
"Go on now," he said, kissing her hand. “And think of me until we’re alone together again.”
"I will. Goodbye, Ludwig."
Then Aliz was walking away, back in the direction from which Ludwig and I had come. I crouched behind the stack of suitcases, hoping she wouldn't look back at her paramour. She didn’t. Not even once.
Ludwig watched her go, love glowing on his face like a street lamp. Then he turned and headed in the opposite direction toward the third row of warehouses. I considered following, but I’d already been away for a few minutes. I needed to get back, or the Kapo would get upset.
It was two hours later, more or less, when I saw Ludwig again.
He came over and asked our Kapo if he could spare a man for a few minutes. Our Kapo agreed so readily that I thought he had likely been on the receiving end of some of Ludwig’s smuggling.
"I'll do it,” I said, already stepping toward Ludwig.
The Kapo frowned in irritation. "Next time, wait until I pick you, understand? Now go, and come right back here when you’re done."
I hurried after Ludwig. He had widely spaced brown eyes set in a narrow face composed of sharp features. His cheeks were fuller than most prisoners’, his shoulders wider. His uniform was free of tears and major stains and was obviously newer than mine. He was also one of the lucky ones whose shirt resembled a jacket, equipped with two pockets at the waist and another over the left breast. Mine was devoid of pockets entirely.
Clearly, Ludwig’s reputation was justified. He knew how to organize stuff. Both clothes and food, judging by his attire and the promise of chocolate he’d made to Aliz.
"I don’t think I've seen you before. You’re new?" he said.
"Yes.”
"What’s your name? Where you’re from?"
I told him. He gave me his name and said the job he had for me wouldn’t take long. "Just a few suitcases, no more than twenty-five in total."
The suitcases in question were heaped near the westernmost warehouse in the middle row. Beyond the nearby fence was the central sauna, the large shower facility I’d gone through on the first day in Auschwitz-Birkenau as part of the induction process. There, I and a multitude of other prisoners had showered together after being stripped of our old clothes and much of our dignity. A little to the west, black tongues of smoke licked the sky, towering from the fire pits.
"We need to take all these into the second warehouse," Ludwig said. “All the way to the rear. Crab two and follow me. We need to be quick.”
The suitcases in question were all of the expensive variety, made of fine leather with large buckles, the stolen property of former affluent Jews. Someone had taken the trouble to set these pieces of luggage aside and had them brought here.
I remembered the story Jakob had told me. How Franz had separated the expensive suitcases from the rest of the luggage and had taken them to a specific truck. Now I understood the reason he’d done so. It made it easier to check these suitcases—where one might expect to find worthwhile items—back in the warehouses.
I grabbed two suitcases and followed Ludwig. He hadn’t taken a single one. We entered the second warehouse, this one far less busy than the rest, and went all the way to the rear. There, a few tables had been set up in a corner, away from prying eyes.
"Put them down here and go fetch the others," Ludwig told me, before hoisting one of the suitcases onto a table.
When I returned, he was pawing through the second suitcase. Off to the side were a bottle of brandy, a pair of gleaming leather gloves, a few packs of cigarettes, and a small silver goblet, the sort used for Kiddush on the eve of the Sabbath and Jewish holidays.
Ludwig saw me eying the items and offered a tight-lipped smile. “If you work quickly, and we’re lucky, you’ll get something good to eat for your trouble, okay? So get cracking.”
I didn't move. "I see that what I was told about you is true—that you’re a guy who can get stuff."
A crafty gleam entered his eyes. "Yeah, that's right. You need something in particular?”
"Medicine."
"What sort of medicine?”
"The sort that cures fever and coughing.”
"That's very hard to get. But maybe there’s some in the hospital.”
"My friend can’t go to the hospital," I said, remembering what the SS doctor had told Vilmos.
"That's too bad. But that sort of medicine would be very expensive to buy, if you could get it at all."
"Please," I said. "My friend is very sick. He may die."
Ludwig had opened another suitcase and was looking through it. "Sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Even if one of my contacts had such medicine to sell, you don’t look like you have anything to trade for it."
He didn’t sound sorry, he sounded uncaring. It made me angry, even though I knew that none of us was as empathetic as we’d been before we got here. You couldn’t care about everyone. If you did, you’d come apart from the inside out.
"Couldn’t you trade these items for medicine?" I said in frustration, gesturing at the table.
His face hardened. “It seems that I should have picked another man to help me. Just so we're clear: This is mine, as are those other suitcases outside. Go back to your regular work unit. I don’t want your help anymore."
Again, I didn’t move.
"Are you deaf or stupid? Do as I say. Get out of here.”
"There’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about."
"What?"
"Franz,” I said.
Ludwig froze for a second. Then he lowered his eyes to the open suitcase before him. "Franz is dead."
"So you know.”
"Yes.”
"How? Who told you?”
"Someone I know. What do you care?"
"Do you know how he died?”
"No."
"He was murdered. Someone stabbed him and left him to die in that ditch behind the latrines."
Ludwig’s throat moved as he swallowed. “I didn’t know that.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him. His expression seemed too controlled, as did the tone of his voice, as though he were making a conscious effort to hide his thoughts.
"You don't seem stunned by the news," I said.
"Why should I be? I heard Franz was dead two days ago."
"I’m talking about the fact that he was murdered.”
"Most people who die here are murdered. You could say all of them are.”
"Most aren’t killed by another prisoner for personal reasons."
Ludwig shifted his mouth. “What do you mean, personal reasons?”
"I’m saying that Franz was killed by someone who knew him. Someone who targeted him specifically."
Ludwig was frowning at me now, his eyes seemingly darker. “Who are you? Why are you asking me about Franz?"