Gebhart put down his fork and looked away, out through the living room toward the big window. Keegan could tell it was difficult for him to talk about the incident.
“The other two were knocked down by the explosion,” he went on. “The Germans machine-gunned those two and left the man with no legs in the field to bleed to death. They left all of them, the man with no legs, the two they machine-gunned, the three on the fence, left them there until . . until their bodies rotted. Then they lined up all the inmates. Eicke, the man in charge of the camp, walked down the rows with his swagger stick, tapping every third or fourth prisoner on the shoulder, and the guards dragged them from the line. There were fifty of them and they were forced to dig a long trench and fill it with lye. They threw what was left of the six who tried to escape in the pit. And then. . . then the bastards ordered the fifty hostages into the hole and. . . and. .
“And what, Werner?”
“And buried them alive with a bulldozer. Then they planted flowers over the entire field so we cannot find the mass grave:
Jenny. . . was one of them.”
They both sat in silence for a very long time. Keegan’s face hardly changed. Except for the muscles in his jaw which jerked in endless spasms, his face was a mask.
“I’m sorry,” Keegan said finally in a hoarse whisper. “I
“It is all right,” Gebhart said quickly. “There is nothing to say. How does one speak about the unspeakable? And to bring such horrible news on this night. I am truly sorry.”
“When did it happen?” Keegan asked.
“In September. We would have tried to tell you sooner but it was quite impossible to get a message out and your friend Rudman was not in Berlin.”
“Rudman was killed in Spain.”
“My God,” he said sadly. “When?”
“In June.”
“I am really sorry, Ire. To lose two people so close together. .
“Danke.”
‘We knew I was going to come to America so Avrum decided to wait until I got out to bring you the news.”
“Why are you here? Can I help you in some way?”
Gebhart shook his head.
“I think the package will explain many things. You should know that Avrum has changed a lot. It is like a demon has him by the arm. All he thinks about is killing.”
“He’s declared his own war, Werner.”
“I do not believe in this kind of vindictive violence, Ire. I am Hasidic. This eye for an eye is against my beliefs. Even when we threatened you that time, it was an effort to hold a gun—and it was unloaded! But Avrum has the fire of vengeance in him. Finally I told him I could not take part in it anymore. He was very understanding. He sent me here to raise money and arrange for our defectors to get into the States.”
“Which I tried and failed to do
“You didn’t know the right organizations,” Gebhart said. “And they didn’t trust you. I know the people to contact and how to achieve my mission. Avrum has something more important for you to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Open the package, please.”
Keegan tore off the wrapping. Inside was a primitive sketch of an old man in the humiliating striped uniform of Dachau prison, staring with burned-out eyes through the barbed wire. Keegan remembered that man. The vision of his hopelessness was burned into his memory forever.
“I remember this man,” he said.
“He is dead now. The painting was smuggled out. You will notice the signing.”
In the lower right hand corner was written: “Jennifer Gould, Dachau Prison, 1937.”
Keegan drew in a sharp breath. His hand trembled as he turned the painting over. There, on the back, was a letter.
My dearest Kee:
I hope this letter will eventually find its way to you. Just imagining that you might hold this slip of paper in your hand one day makes my heart sing.
How sad that we never said good-bye. How many times I have said it over and over to myself and hoped that perhaps my love for you would be strong enough to carry the message across the miles and through the air and into your heart.
I wish we had lived in a different time when there was love in the world instead of hate, when there was caring instead of cruelty. Such wishful thinking!
My days with you were the happiest time of my life. You shared the world with me and what a splendid world it was! In this misery, that memory makes me smile, makes my heart beat faster, brightens these awful hours.
And I think of Bert, too, and how serious he is and how hard he tries to tell the rest of the world what is really happening. Give him a kiss for me. But save the rest for your lips.
I love you, my darling. Please remember me as someone who gave her heart freely and gratefully and who was rewarded with joy and love and happiness.
My heart’s love, sweet Kee. Stay well.
Jenny
September 23, 1938
There was a note attached to the painting:
Keegan:
Werner has a story to tell you. When last we saw each other, you said “I owe you one.” Werner will tell you how you can pay it. I am sorry about Jenny. If her blood had been the same as mine, I could not have loved her more. Avrum.
There was one other item in the package. It was the list of the hostages murdered by Eicke. Jenny Gould was the first name on the list.
Keegan felt only cold wrath.
“You have a story to tell me,” he said.
Gebhart found it difficult to tell the story. Raised within the strict religious confines of the Hasidim, that most disciplined of Jewish sects, he so detested violence that to consciously relive the night he was about to describe was a painful experience. But he had promised Avrum he would take the message to Keegan and he was a man of his word.
“Before I start, I must tell you that I cannot see you again after tonight. I think you understand why. I must trust that you will not give up my identity.”
“I might be able to help you.”
Gebhart shook his head. “You will understand when I finish.”
Keegan nodded. “Whatever you wish. I’m just sorry we can’t be friends, but I agree.”
Gebhart took a swig of beer, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and then began:
“A Spion infiltrated our group in Berlin. He was friendly and very clever, very quick. A young man named Isaac Fish. He was planted by Vierhaus and he came to us very roundabout. Munich, Düsseldorf, Essen, finally Berlin. He worked his way slowly to get next to Avrum. His mission was to kill Avrum. Supposedly he had escaped from Dachau. They have begun now to tattoo numbers on the arms of the prisoners and this man had such a number.”
“Tattoo numbers on their arms?” Keegan said incredulously.
‘ja. It has become so bad now, everyone is paranoid. So Avrum decided to double-check Fish. We got the list of Dachau prisoners and sure enough, there was Isaac Fish and the correct number. The only thing wrong was that the real Isaac Fish was one of the hostages killed with Jenny.”
He pointed to the name on the list in Keegan’s hand.
“Avrum went crazy! I have never seen him like that before. He howled like an animal when he realized we were being betrayed. We took Fish to a farmhouse outside Berlin. It was supposed to be an important meeting of the Lily. Avrum had gone out beforehand and set up a torture cell in the smoke cellar.
“When Avrum accused Fish, the Spion went crazy. He pleaded for his life. Avrum laughed at him and the more Fish pleaded for his life, the harder Avrum laughed. Avrum . . attached electrodes from a twelve-volt battery to . . . to . . . his testicles. The screaming. . . it was the worst sound I ever heard in my life. We had a woman with us, one of our members, who is a trained secretary, and she took down every word Fish said. He identified three other agents. One of them in Zurich had set up the trap for our friend Joachim. They had ambushed him in the street and cut his throat. He lay there.. . he could not scream from the pain. He could not . . . cry . . . for help