Highlander - Donna Lettow [53]
Her uniformed tormentor pulled her roughly toward him, slipped one arm tightly around her waist. “You’re very pretty,” he said, fingering one of her blond curls, “too pretty for a Jewess!” His disdainful laugh echoed in her ear. He was a squat, greasy man, desperately in need of a shave and a bath, and the thought of him touching her sent a wave of nausea through Miriam’s core. “Let’s give everyone a good look,” he said. He reached between Miriam’s breasts and forcibly ripped the brassiere from her body. The fabric tore away, leaving her exposed to the rest of the Polish squad, who whooped and hollered their approval.
She shut her eyes and tried to shut down her mind as the officer groped and fondled her breasts, touching places she had never felt touched by a man before, but finally her tears escaped, uncontrollable. She could feel his excitement rising against her as he pulled her closer, and she thought about breaking away and running, knowing full well the machine guns at the gate would cut her down in seconds.
But if she died here, no matter how blessed the relief might be to her, her message would die with her. No one would know the Germans planned to strike at the Ghetto before dawn tonight, no one would be prepared, everyone would die. She needed to stay alive as long as she could, to try to get the word to someone—anyone—who could warn the ZOB. Miriam steeled herself as the Pole rubbed himself against her, his fetid breath hot in her ear, his comrades whistling and applauding. With desperate eyes, she searched the neighboring rooftops for salvation.
Up on the roof of the apartment building at the corner of Gesia and Okopowa streets, across from the massive gates leading out of the Ghetto, Avram Mordecai and Duncan MacLeod were arguing as Avram grabbed an old Mauser rifle and thrust it into Mac Leod’s hands. “You can do this, goy. Five shots, five guards. Pick ’em off from the first-floor window,” Avram said, trying to move MacLeod toward the roof door.
“Are you completely insane?” MacLeod stood his ground. “Are you trying to get her killed?”
“You see what those pigs are doing to her. I’m trying to keep her alive. Now go!”
“Listen to me.” As MacLeod tried to move away from Avram, Avram hung on tenaciously. MacLeod may have had almost a foot on him in size, but Avram was bound and determined for MacLeod to go. “Listen to me, Avram!” MacLeod said. “A grandstand play in front of two machine-gun emplacements does not make ‘alive.’ It makes ‘dead.’ I miss one shot, and they’ll be all over us.”
“Look, I know you. You don’t miss.”
MacLeod had to concede he was a great shot, but he still knew Avram’s plan couldn’t work. “Yeah, and what happens when that piece of German crap jams? Miriam and I’ll both be Swiss cheese. I’ll get up again, but she won’t. What does that accomplish?” He gave Avram a firm shake to try and knock some sense into him. “We have to get them away from the machine guns.”
Avram stopped and looked at him, hearing his words but frustrated at not being able to act immediately. “Okay, you’re right. You’re right. We need a Plan B.”
Down in the street, two more Polish policemen from the gate joined the officer, forcing Miriam to her knees while their leader bound her wrists tightly behind her neck with strips of fabric torn from her blouse.
Avram’s eyes narrowed as he thought. “If he really wants it, they’re gonna take her somewhere. Somewhere away from those damn machine guns. Even a pig like that’s not idiot enough to pull it out in a public street. It’s a crime against the State to screw a Jew, MacLeod. Pollutes their good Aryan blood. Doesn’t stop it from happening, but it might keep it from happening in the middle of Gesia Street, where any goosestepper might see it.” As if to prove Avram right, in the street below them the police pulled Miriam roughly to her feet and ordered her to walk. She