Jacob's Oath (28 page)

Jacob? “Jacob?” she called.

The bathroom door was open. He had gone. So early? Where? Why?

She had a sinking feeling. When did he leave? What is he doing? She looked around.
There was no sign that he had slept in the bed. She brushed her teeth and put the
kettle on. He’s gone, she thought. He’s angry. He’s left me. She checked the closet;
his clothes were still there. She went back to the bathroom. So was his toothbrush.
So where is he, then? What is he doing? Why did he leave so early?

At seven twenty, just as she had talked herself again into fearing the worst, there
was a knock on the door. A sharp knock.

*   *   *

A few minutes earlier, Adolf the hotel worker stopped at the exit of his building,
sniffed the air, put a hand out to see if he felt rain, and decided he didn’t need
his hat that day. He went back inside and after two minutes came out again, hatless,
dragging his hand along the bush that lined the garden path, and turned left to walk
to work.

Jacob fell in beside him.

“Good morning again, Adolf,” Jacob said.

“Good morning to you, too.” They walked side by side for a couple of minutes.

“Anything new at the Schwartzer Bock?” Jacob asked.

“We’re hiring a new staff person,” Adolf said. “Maybe you can apply.” Jacob’s heart
jumped for a moment before he realized how impossible this would be. He had come to
talk to Adolf out of desperation, hoping he would get an idea. “Who knows?” he said.
“What’s the job?”

“Waitress.” Adolf laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. It was
a jolting laugh, as if he didn’t have the breath for it. “Sorry, I was just making
a joke.”

Jacob duly laughed. “Waitress. Funny one. Tell me,” he said. He didn’t have time to
waste. “Hans. How is he? I hear he may be leaving soon, is that right? Do you know
where to?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t really talk to me. He says I’m a village idiot.” He laughed
again.

“I think you’re very smart.”

“Thank you. I think the same about you.”

“Thank you. So tell me, you don’t know if Hans is leaving or you don’t know where
he is going?”

“I do not know where he is going. He is leaving next week. That is why we need more
help. Frau Seeler thought he would work there, but he will not.”

“So he’s leaving next week.”

“Yes. I said that.”

Nine days.

No plan, no ideas. No time.

*   *   *

Sarah shrank from the door, out of habit. Who would knock so early? Only the police.
Trying to catch people off guard. They always did. But why? What did they want? Oh
no. Jacob … Had something happened to him? Did he do something stupid? So quickly?
She cursed herself. Oh, why didn’t I think of that, I should never have fallen asleep.
Where did he go? What did he do? Her stomach churned.

Another knock. “Open up, police.” A sharp rap-rap-rap.

Her heart jolted. How she had feared this moment in Berlin; there it was a death sentence.
What did it mean here? If the window had not opened onto the street by the door she
might have climbed out of it. As if in a trance, she pulled a coat over her nightclothes
and heard her quavering voice say, “Just a moment.” She reached the door, drew a breath,
and with a trembling hand turned the knob and opened the door a fraction. A big man
stood on the doorstep, in uniform.

Sarah’s lips quivered as her hand flew to her mouth.

His smile was huge as he produced a bunch of flowers.

“I don’t understand,” she said. Her legs began to shake. “Oh … my God … Isak … is
that you?” She thought she would fall. “You said the police … I thought … you have
no idea…” The room spun and the ground rose as the blood drained from her brain and
she swooned.

“Oh no, I was joking, it was a joke,” Isak gasped, dabbing his handkerchief into a
glass of water. He wiped her face as he picked her up and carried her to the bed,
all while struggling out of his coat. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, joking, I was joking.
Bad joke.” He wet the cloth again and wiped her brow and cheeks. Her eyes rolled back
into focus, a blush of pink returned to her cheeks.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed. “With comedy like that, who needs tragedy.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes. Well, no. Not really. Not at all. Oh, I don’t know. Anyway, I am better
now that you’re here. Oh, Isak. You scared me. So much has happened. How did you find
me? Would you like some tea?”

“I’ll make you some. But first…” He put a flask of vodka to her lips. “This is what
you need now, though.” She sipped, coughed, and sat up.

“That’s better,” she said. “I think. What on earth are you doing here?”

“I’m on a liaison team with the Sixth Army. General Patton. A fine soldier. An anti-Semite,
but a fine soldier. I have brought you something.”

“Not more vodka, please.”

He chortled. “No, not vodka. Something better. And not chocolate.”

Sarah watched as he reached into his satchel. He smiled, ready to enjoy her reaction,
as he slowly, tantalizingly, slid out a small brown velvet purse. His mouth matched
hers as it widened in surprise. She sucked in her breath as she understood. She took
the purse and pressed it to her chest and looked at Isak with tears streaming from
her eyes. She shook her head in wonder, could find no words. Her cheeks glistened.
Silently she stretched out her arms, still holding the purse, and he came forward
and she embraced him and the sobs wracked her body. She held on to his great frame
and he pulled her shaking slender body to his and stroked her hair and patted her
back as she wept.

“So, sweet Sarah,” he said as he kissed her brow and pushed her gently from him. Her
eyes were red and wet and her cheeks glowed and she wiped away her tears. “I must
look terrible,” she said.

Sarah opened the purse like a medieval manuscript that could disintegrate in her fingers.
She drew out a picture of Hoppi and held it to her lips and cried some more. She cried
over her mother and father and the baby photo of her with her sister Ruth, while Isak
stroked her hair. When she stopped crying he gave her tea. Its heavy, sweet aroma
filled the room.

“So,” Isak said, and tilted his chin toward the cupboard, “who do they belong to?”
Sarah followed his gaze to Jacob’s spare shoes. Their eyes met. She blushed to the
very core. “Not you, I take it,” he said. The bathroom door was open. She saw the
two toothbrushes, Jacob’s trousers thrown over the chair.

“You always turn up when I need you most,” she said with a gentle smile. “You are
my savior, my knight in shining armor.”

He looked down at his shapeless Soviet army uniform with its leather belt and brown
jacket. “Hardly.”

“Thank you for this,” she said, hugging the purse.

“It belongs to you.”

“That doesn’t mean much these days.”

Isak nodded. “Sarah,” he said, raising his bushy eyebrows, “you’re avoiding the question.
What is a beautiful girl like you doing with a pair of black men’s shoes in dire need
of a polish?”

*   *   *

Four hours later, Jacob walked in to find Sarah and Isak lying on the bed, holding
hands, her head against his shoulder. Isak’s army jacket with the red star in the
lapel was hanging over the back of the chair, his big army boots lay on the floor,
and his shirt was hanging out. On the table were cups, a plate of nuts, the remains
of a sandwich, and a flask of vodka. Jacob took it all in before he had shut the door.

“You’re Isak Brodsky,” he said. “Because if not, I’d have to kill you.”

“You’re as smart as Sarah says, then,” Isak said with a laugh that shook the room.
He threw his feet to the floor and stood to shake Jacob’s hand. Even in socks he towered
above him. His broad shoulders made Jacob look frail, and as he took Jacob’s hand
he pulled him into a hug. “I feel I know you as my brother,” he said. “A drink?”

Jacob looked at the flask and smiled. “For once, why not? Sarah?” She shook her head.

“I’ve told Isak everything,” she said. “Everything.” She got up. “I’ll make some more
tea.”

“Everything? I hope not.”

“Everything he needs to know.”

“Needs to know?” Jacob threw an inquiring glance at Isak. Isak raised an eyebrow—it
formed a perfect arch—and he opened his arms as if to say, What can I do?

They pulled the table to the bed so that Jacob and Isak could sit on the two chairs
and Sarah on the edge of the bed. Jacob’s instant suspicion had faded. Sarah had never
gone into details but this man had saved her life, spirited her out of Berlin, got
her a ride to Frankfurt, never asked for anything, and now he had even brought her
precious purse with all its memories. He wished he had even one photo. He would go
home today to ask Berger. He looked at Isak and remembered the hug. He’s all muscle,
too. These Soviet officers, no wonder they won. He took another slug of vodka.

Sarah had made sandwiches and tea. As she poured it and stirred the sugar, she glanced
at Isak. Jacob caught it. He stiffened. Oh yes? What’s this all about? He looked sharply
at Isak, who noticed. “It isn’t that,” Isak said, “don’t worry. Look, I’ve got to
go in a moment, we were hoping you’d come home, I have a meeting to go to, I’ve already
been away too long. Now listen, Sarah told me what you are up to.”

Sarah’s eyes met Jacob’s. She nodded in encouragement. Jacob opened one hand. “What?
Bartering? Or something else?”

“Something else,” Isak said. “The Rat.”

“You’re a man of few words,” Jacob said.

“Ha! Tell that to my wife,” Isak bellowed and smacked the table, which shook. “She
would be very surprised to hear that.” His laugh was short. “But work? Yes. Few words.
Don’t talk. Do. My brother. I will take care of the Rat for you.”

Jacob’s eyes went wide. He felt himself go cold. Sarah took his hand. “Isak can do
it,” she said.

“Not me,” Isak interrupted. “Don’t get me wrong. I will get it done. Not me. But I
know people. They will do it.”

Jacob sat in shock. Really? He was looking down, he couldn’t meet their eyes. Suddenly
there was light. All the way home he had been telling himself how impossible it was
becoming, how he could never get close enough, how torn he was between killing Hans
and losing Sarah, losing his future. In the camp, awaiting his moment, there was no
either/or. There was no context, no background, no choices. Simple revenge. He was
going to do it, one way or another, he knew he would, but the price he would have
to pay was increasing every day. But now … now … is this really possible … has this
man saved Sarah again, saved me? Saved us? Who is he, this angel from heaven?

“How? How can you do this? Who would do it?”

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” Isak threw his head back and roared. “Really,”
he said, settling his chair on all four legs again. “I’d have to kill you.”

He stood and pulled on his jacket and buckled his belt. “Jacob, seriously. Sarah has
told me his name, the name of his hotel, and especially, who he is and what he did.
That’s all I need to know.”

“There’s something else you need to know,” Jacob said. He could hardly believe what
he was hearing. Would his oath really be kept, and he’d be safe at the same time?
Had his luck finally turned? He looked at Sarah with utter love in his eyes, and a
tear formed in the edge of hers. She squeezed his hand. His mind was working feverishly
as he tried to get his head around what he was hearing, before the Soviet officer
left.

“There’s something else. If you really do it, everyone heard me threaten him. I’d
need an alibi. I’d need to know when it happens so I can be somewhere else, in a beer
garden. In the police station getting some papers, that would be perfect. Right? Otherwise
I’d be picked up immediately. I need an alibi, so I’d need to know when, is that possible?”

Isak sat down again. “I don’t know. I have to see if that is possible.”

“It has to be,” Jacob said, and Sarah agreed. “Yes, he’s right, everyone heard him
say he’d kill him.”

“Look, I’ll be honest,” Isak said. “I don’t know if that’s possible. Let me tell you
what I can.” He paused, took a breath, and let it out without saying anything. He
was measuring what was safe to say. He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Look. I am an
officer in Soviet Intelligence. I am a translator. But maybe a little more than that.
Never mind. Liaison with the American and British armies. Intelligence. That sort
of thing. I know things. I am Jewish too. I know things about the Jews. There is a
group of Jews, I won’t say anything more about them, but let’s put it this way. Jacob,
you are not the only Jew who wants revenge. And Hans Seeler is not the only Nazi out
there who needs to be destroyed. Let’s just say that there is a way to put his name
in the hands of the right people. It will be done. I can guarantee it. But those people
must be protected. Zero risk. Zero.” He poured himself a glass and drained it. “Now
I must go. Jacob, it is over for you. It will happen. But I should tell you now. They
will not want to widen the circle, not even by one. They are complete professionals.
I don’t know what you will do about an alibi.”

Jacob nodded with pursed lips. The main thing was revenge for Maxie. That was all
he cared about. What a stroke of luck. Then he remembered. “There’s one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“He will leave Heidelberg in nine days.”

“Who, the Rat? Nine days?”

“Yes.”

“From what I know, that is enough time. More than enough.”

“Why, are they already here?”

“Jacob, oh, Jacob, you are too smart for your own good. I may have to kill you anyway.”
Isak stood again and poured himself another vodka and drained it and pushed the flask
toward Jacob. “The rest is yours. Sarah, I came to give you your photos, and look
what you’ve got me into. Come here.”

Sarah stood and hugged Isak. She put her head against his chest. She trembled. “I
have no words.”

She felt his words rumble through his body. “Just remember. You will come to Balakovo
for dinner. Both of you. I have told you before, Sarah. My mother is the best cook
east of the Elbe. And my wife is the best hostess. She will love you, like I do. Anyway,”
he said, letting Sarah go, “I will see you again. In a few days I will be back in
Heidelberg. Sarah knows how to contact me. Dosvidanya tovarishchi.” Farewell, comrades.
He swept his cap from his head, threw out his arm with a flourish, bowed from the
waist like a hussar in the court of the tsar, and the door closed after him.