Once We Were Brothers (50 page)

“No children?”

Adele shook her head. “Hannah couldn’t have children, whether it was the scarlet fever or the abuse her poor body took in the concentration camps…no, it was just the two of them, but they had a sweet life. Almost every Saturday night he would take her dancing.

“Ben retired eight years ago and they talked about moving to Florida but they loved the city and all their friends were here. About three years ago, Hannah came down with heart disease – maybe that too was a result of the scarlet fever. She was bedridden for weeks. Her heart finally gave out on August 25, 2001. To Ben, it was as though half of him had left. Maybe more than half.”

“But she didn’t really leave did she, Adele. All these years since she died, she’s still here, right? I mean, he’s still in touch with her, isn’t he?”

Adele looked at Catherine, one to another, keepers of a mystical secret, and shrugged. “Who knows for sure, honey. He says he is. If you ask me, I believe him. If any two people could stay connected through all eternity, it’s Ben and Hannah.”

Catherine’s cell phone buzzed. “Okay. I’ll be there,” she said, then turning to Adele, she said, “That was Richard Tryon at the U.S. Attorney’s office. They’re going out to arrest Rosenzweig. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, can you drop me at the Federal Building? I owe it to Ben to be there when they bring him in.”

Chapter Sixty-one

Elliot turned the page of the
Wall Street Journal
, which lay open on the marble breakfast table, and took a spoonful of fresh grapefruit, a pleasant start to his early afternoon brunch. He loved grapefruit but disliked the effort required to struggle with the rind, not to mention the occasional squirt on his French-cuffed shirt, so his kitchen staff neatly segmented the grapefruits for him each day. One of the perquisites of enormous wealth enjoyed by the Grand Benefactor.

Robert entered the breakfast room followed by four men.

“Excuse me sir.”

“What is it, Robert? Who are these men? What’s this all about?”

Richard Tryon handed Elliot a paper and said, “These men are United States Deputy Marshals and this is warrant for your arrest. The government intends to revoke your citizenship and deport you under Title 8 of the United States Code, Section 1182 (a)(3)(E), otherwise known as the Holtzman Amendment; that is to say, participating and assisting in persecution under the Nazi regime.”

Elliot scoffed and flipped the warrant onto the table. “This is bullshit. Just more of Ben Solomon’s bullshit. I’ll have my lawyer call you later this afternoon.” He returned his eyes to the
Wall Street Journal
and picked up his spoon.

“You have the right to remain silent…”

“I said my lawyer would call you. Robert, show them to the door. Goodbye, Mr. Tryon.”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law….”

Elliot bellowed, “Do you know who I am?” To Robert, he barked, “Get me the phone. I’m calling Mayor Burton. This young fellow doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. On second thought, get Congressman Douglas on the line.”

Tryon snapped, “Leave the phone where it is. He’ll have the opportunity to make a call after he’s booked.”

Elliot looked shocked.

“My my, things seem to be unraveling, don’t they, Mr. Piatek?”

Elliot’s face turned purple. He pointed his finger at Tryon. “Rosenzweig! The name’s Rosenzweig, and it’s on buildings all over this town.” The marshals moved around the table and stood on either side of Elliot’s chair. “Look here, sonny, I know every bigtime politician in this country. I don’t know who the hell you think you are.” He curled his lip. “Are you Jewish? You don’t look like a Jew.”

“I am Richard Tryon, Assistant United States Attorney. And you are Otto Piatek, and you’re under arrest. Cuff him.”

The marshals lifted Elliot by his armpits, put his hands behind his back and slapped on the handcuffs.

“Elzie,” he yelled. “Elzie, get in here.”

“She left early this morning, sir,” Robert said.

Tryon continued, “You have the right to consult with an attorney and have an attorney present during all questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney…”

“Can’t afford? You little shit. My pinky ring’s worth more than your whole family.”

“…one will be appointed for you. Do you understand each and every right as I’ve explained them to you?”

“Go to hell. I’ll have your job. You’ll be on the streets by dinner time.”

Elliot was led out of the house and into the waiting patrol car. By the time he arrived at the Federal Building, a crowd of reporters, alerted by Tryon, had gathered to watch the “perp walk”. Elliot scowled as he shuffled forward, hands cuffed, past the photographers, through the lobby and into the elevators.

“I want my lawyer,” he snipped. “I know my rights.”

“You can call him as soon as you’re booked,” Tryon replied.

The staff of the U.S. Marshal’s office was ready and waiting for Elliot when he was led through the doors, a strong grip on each arm. His head and shoulders twisted from side to side like a wild coyote on a choker leash. Then he saw Catherine standing quietly in the background.

“You!” he sneered. “I don’t get it. What’s all this to you? You couldn’t have made any money. You lost your job. Your career went to hell. Where will you be tomorrow?”

Catherine shrugged. “I won’t be in prison.”

“Why the fuck did you do this to me?” he shouted. “Why would you stick your neck out? Are you crazy? And where’s Solomon? How come he’s not here to enjoy the show?”

Catherine remained complacent and watched Elliot as he was processed. Then her cell phone buzzed.

“Cat, it’s Liam. Dr. Chou just called. Ben’s awake. Adele and I are heading over. We’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Chapter Sixty-two

Ben lay in room three at Northwestern Memorial’s Cardiac Care Unit. Mort, two nurses and Dr. Chou were standing at the foot of the bed as Catherine, Adele and Liam rushed up. The young cardiologist stepped away to talk to them in the hall.

“He’s very weak and under strong medication, but he’s awake. We’re doing everything we can to control the arrhythmia, but….” He shrugged. “Don’t stay too long.”

Ben smiled as the two approached his bed, one on either side. “Here I am again,” he said to Adele, so softly that she had to lean far over the bedrails to hear him.

He turned his head. “How’s our case, counselor?”

Catherine fought back her tears. “You already know, don’t you? Somehow, you cantankerous old bird, you already know.”

“Elzbieta.” He coughed a puff of air. “She was the key.”

Catherine squeezed his hand and blinked the water from her eyes. “They arrested him this afternoon, Ben. I just came from the U.S. Marshal’s office.”

A smile stretched the weakened skin on his face as Catherine recreated the scene.

“After he was fingerprinted, photographed and booked, they let him call his lawyer. That was the coup de grace. Jeffers cut him loose – he refused to represent him. Rosenzweig screamed into the phone, ‘What do you mean I’m too hot to handle? I’ve paid you a fortune! I own you!’ But Jeffers wouldn’t budge and left Rosenzweig adrift.

“And then it all finally hit him, that there would be no bail, that he would be considered a risk of flight, and that they were never going to release him. Ever. All the color drained from his face. His entire bearing changed. Gone was the arrogant swagger. What remained was just a frightened, defenseless old man looking plaintively into the faces of his keepers, begging for mercy. What a turnabout.”

Catherine shook her head. “All his wealth won’t buy him another day of freedom. He’ll ultimately be sent overseas for trial. And it’s already hit the media. It’ll be on every TV station and in papers all over the world. Everyone will know.”

With great effort and in a raspy voice, Ben spoke. “You did a great job. You’re a first-rate attorney.” He motioned for her to come close and she leaned far over the rail. “Let go of those self-doubts now,” he whispered to her. “God doesn’t ask you to be Ruth or Sarah. He only asks you to be Catherine.”

She nodded.

“The Catherine I know, she’s there.” He pointed to her chest. “Inside. Find her and be true to her.”

She nodded.

“Remember:
nigdy się nię poddamy
. Never surrender.”

Catherine swallowed and nodded her head.

He turned his head slowly back to Adele. “Did you take Hannah her flowers?”

“I did. Catherine went with me.”

“I’m going to see her soon, she’s waiting for me.”

Catherine put her finger on his lips. “Shhhh. Dr. Chou says you’re going to be fine.”

He squeezed her hand. There was a twinkle in his eyes. “Not this time. Besides, I can’t keep Hannah waiting. I promised her the next dance.”

Catherine glanced over at Liam, who stood at the foot of the bed, his arms folded before him. He nodded gently.

Ben closed his eyes. A beatific peace settled on his smiling face. A single tone sounded on the electrocardiograph and Ben loosened his grip on Catherine’s hand. Several nurses quickly entered and started for the bed but Dr. Chou shook his head. Catherine leaned over the rail and kissed Ben on his forehead. “She says you’re a very good dancer. Good-bye Ben. I love you.”

Epilogue

Summer had given way to a glorious fall, the turn of another season in the Midwest, though Catherine felt a hint of winter in the northerly breeze as she pulled out of Henderson’s Florist and into Memorial Park. She carried two bouquets and knelt to set them into holders between the adjoining stones, pausing to chat for a while as had become her habit on Friday afternoons.

“I opened my new office this week, Ben, on Fullerton Avenue in a storefront we passed on the way to lunch at Rocco’s. My little practice is coming together and I feel good about it.”

Gently, she arranged the flowers in their vases. The petals fluttered in the autumn breeze.

“I’ve had time to do a lot of thinking – sometimes wondering: where are my inspirations? What will they say? Where will they come from? And I’ve come to realize – you were my inspiration, Ben. It was you all along.”

She brushed a blade of grass from the marker. “One thing I’m sure of – I’ve found Catherine. She was inside, like you said, hiding for so long behind insecurities, large law firm anonymity and self-doubt. I’m happy with the person I’m becoming and I owe that to you.

“My practice is people-oriented and very satisfying. I’ve even volunteered at a neighborhood legal clinic. I want to do something significant with my life, something to make you proud.”

Her tears fell upon the stone and she spread them with her fingertips. Beneath Ben’s name was an inscription in Hebrew, which read: “Light is sown for the righteous, joy for the upright in heart.” It was an excerpt from a psalm that Catherine and Adele thought was fitting. A stiff gust of wind tore red and yellow leaves from the maples and tumbled them along the grass.

“Otto’s trial has been set for next month in Tel Aviv. At his extradition hearing, he showed no remorse. Like so many before him, he denied responsibility and had no self-reproach. I understand that the Israeli court has developed quite a case against him. Liam and I are going to attend the trial.” She smiled. “We’re good for each other. You were right about that, too. I’ve asked Adele to go with us, but she’s not feeling too well these days.”

A single red leaf floated down and came to rest in the center of Ben’s headstone. She picked it up and held it in her hand. Its color was pure – its five points elegant in their symmetry. She smiled and held the soft leaf to her cheek. “And there was morning and there was evening, the third day,” she said.

She stood. “I have to leave now.”

She brushed off her skirt, took a few steps toward Liam, who stood patiently waiting at the car, and then turned around to stare at the landscaped serenity.

“The music beckons, Ben. Enjoy the dance.”

Acknowledgments

Although Once We Were Brothers is a work of fiction, it was my intention to portray the story in a historically accurate setting. Several persons assisted me in researching and writing this novel. A treasure trove of information was and is available in the individual stories of those who lived through the Holocaust and had the courage to open their wounds and chronicle their experiences. Many of their memories may be found through the multiple doorways of the Internet. My deepest gratitude is extended to all those whose memoranda preserves the evidence. The staff members of The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington D.C. and the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center in Skokie, Illinois were very helpful. United States case law concerning claims brought by survivors against sovereign nations, their institutions and sub-divisions, against the commercial entities which sought to and did profit from their business arrangements with the Third Reich, and against those persons who participated in, lent support to, and enabled the Nazi regime is available in law libraries and through the online research venues. I am deeply indebted to my dear friend Rabbi Victor Weissberg, who gave me the privilege of studying with him, who read my manuscript and generously gave me encouragement. My thanks to all those who read, reviewed and edited my work, including Sara Flynn, who initially gave me direction on the depth of my characters, and Maura Teitelbaum, a delightful and energetic literary agent, whose plot suggestions were invaluable. Thanks to Mitch McNeil for his artwork and cover design. My son Dave, a brilliant grammarian, conducted a search and destroy mission finding countless grammar errors in a meticulous edit. My son Matt coordinated the printing and distribution. My good friend and law partner, Jolanda Krawczyk, provided information on all things Polish, including the Polish phrases used herein. Finally, my heartfelt thanks to my support group: my wife Monica, my children, my sister Linda, and my good friend Richard Templer, all of whom helped me get this work to print.