Mila 18 - Leon Uris [99]
What is the ultimate aim of the Germans’ master plan? As German victories increase, their fear of world opinion lessens. I hear that the 4B section of the Gestapo on Jewish affairs under Adolf Eichmann on the Kurfürstendamm in Berlin is an empire within an empire.
A.B.
It was getting more dangerous for Andrei each time he traveled outside Warsaw. On his last trip he had a close call when a sudden inspection was pulled at a siding. He slipped the Pole who spotted his fake travel pass a three-hundred-zloty bribe and it worked. He always carried the bills folded and placed in his papers so the inspector could be bought on the spot.
When Emanuel Goldman headed the Jewish Civil Authority, Andrei was issued travel permits under the guise of Orphans and Self-Help business. Now that Paul Bronski was the liaison, he shut off all but legitimate permits.
Andrei had to travel with false papers as a non-Jew. His Kennkarte read “Jan Kowal.” Normal hazards were increased by bands of hoodlums who hung out around the train depots detecting hidden Jews, whom they either extorted or turned over to the Gestapo for rewards.
Andrei’s Aryan appearance and obvious physical prowess had got him through six false-permit trips. How long he could evade capture was a moot question.
He arrived at the central terminal on Jerusalem Boulevard and walked directly toward Mila 19 to report to Alexander Brandel. He had gone only a few blocks when he stopped and watched the surge of humanity pouring into the Jewish quarantine areas. First they had come from other parts of Warsaw, then from the surrounding countryside. Now they were being transported in from outside Poland. Barbed-wire accordions were laid across dozens of streets and placed under guard to define the quarantine districts.
A stream of miserable dazed human beings filled the street from the northern terminal for several blocks south. Iron wheels on the cobblestones set up a din. Some of the wealthier of the new arrivals had their belongings on horse-drawn wagons. Others had their goods piled high on bicycle-driven porter carts, still others on hand push-carts. Most carried their possessions wrapped up in a single blanket slung over their backs.
Hawkers tried to sell them armbands, pots, pans, books—anything. Self-Help workers were trying to organize the chaos.
“Where are they from?” Andrei asked another onlooker.
“Belgium.”
No matter how many times Andrei saw it, the sight disgusted him. Anger churned him into a hot flush. He abruptly turned away from the direction of Mila 19 and walked quickly to Leszno 92, the headquarters of Simon Eden.
Leszno 92 had a line of refugees outside it that ran for a block. Volunteers were aiding in registration and working the soup kitchen for the new arrivals. He walked past the line. They became a blur of faces.
He entered the main room and was recognized immediately.
“I want to see Simon,” he whispered to one of the girls behind the counter.
Because Simon Eden was the most powerful Zionist in Warsaw, he lived in semi-seclusion in the attic. Three buzzes would let him know a friend was coming up. A different signal would send him to the safety of the rooftops for hiding.
Andrei climbed the ladder into the attic. Simon pulled him up the last step. They slapped each other on the back and went into his small garret quarters. It was wilting from the midday heat which had come through the roof and settled in the airless room. Andrei opened his shirt and took off his hat. Simon smiled as he saw that Andrei was still wearing his boots in symbolic defiance of the enemy.
Simon opened and closed a half dozen desk drawers until he discovered a half-filled bottle of vodka. He took a swig and passed it to Andrei.
“How was the trip?”
Andrei shrugged. “Good and bad.”
“Did you see any of my people?”
“Krakow. The underground press is getting important. At least it keeps the people aware