reaching to open the trunk for his duffel bag.
“Isn’t that your-”
“I have an idea.” She held the trunk open. “Let’s stop by Meah Shearim, and you’ll run in to say hello to your mother.”
“ What? ”
She patted his Uzi. “No one is going to mess with you. Just go in and tell her you’re doing fine, not to worry. What’s the worst that could happen? They’ll ignore you?”
“Great idea!” Lemmy threw his bag in the trunk and slammed it shut. “Should I stop by the synagogue to say hello to my old friends? Check out the new chandelier?”
Tanya drove along the border, where hundreds of Orthodox men of all ages were digging up the sidewalks and filling up pillowcases in lieu of sandbags.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “I defied their God, spat on their sacred rules, made a farce out of their divine truth.”
“You didn’t spit on anything. You took a different path, that’s all.”
“My father once hit me for asking an inappropriate question. For a question!” He gestured at his uniform. “This is a million times worse than a question, more than blasphemy. For them, it’s Khilool Ha’Shem — Desecration of God in the worst way! Don’t you understand what Neturay Karta is all about?”
“But still, your mother loves you no matter what.”
“You love me too, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then imagine that I went to Tel Aviv and raped Bira, completely and violently ravished her, left your darling daughter violated, bleeding, broken, sprawled on the sidewalk. Would you still love me? Would you want me to stop by and say hello?”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Yes, it is! I raped their Talmud, ravished their faith, crapped on their holy way of life, and shot down their chandelier.”
“That was an accident.”
“You don’t get it, do you? I’m dead to them, especially to my parents.” He hit the door of the car with a clenched fist. “Worse than dead!”
After a few moments of driving in silence, Tanya said, “You might be right.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be angry at me, but I went to see your father.”
Lemmy was too shocked to say anything.
“Many weeks ago. I gave him your address in the army so your mother could write to you.” Tanya sighed. “I don’t understand why she didn’t.”
“Because I’ve been excommunicated! I don’t exist anymore!”
At the central bus station, Tanya parked and accompanied him inside. Hundreds of soldiers milled about, some young like Lemmy, others much older, reservists in haphazard combinations of uniform and civilian clothes.
A group of kids sat on the ground in a circle, singing a popular tune: “ Nasser sits and waits for Rabin, ai, yai yai, and he should wait ’cause Rabin is coming, ai, yai yai, to bang him on his head, ai yai yai. ”
They stopped to watch the kids sing. She took his hand.
“Sorry I yelled at you.”
She pulled him toward the row of buses. “You’ll miss your ride.”
“Will you attend my graduation ceremony next month?”
They reached his bus. “I can’t leave my post. We’re sitting on a cinder box.”
“That’s okay,” he muttered. “My friends would be surprised to see anyone showing up for me.”
“My poor little Jerusalem.” She held him tightly. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but just to make you feel better, I really can’t travel. The fate of the city is hanging in the balance. We need as much information as possible.”
The bus began to back up from the dock. He bent down to kiss her lips, but Tanya offered her cheek instead.
T he overseas telephone number had many digits, and Elie tried again, fingering each digit, impatient for the dial to rotate back, the pulses to travel the lines to Jerusalem. But the telephone in Tanya’s house rang and rang without an answer.
He dialed her number again every few minutes for almost an hour, but there was no response. He wondered whether she even knew the account number and password. It would have been careless for her Nazi lover to give her the ledger and the codes. Was it possible to guess them? Back in 1945, SS General Klaus von Koenig must have realized it would be many years before he could return to Zurich. He had to use a memorable pattern. Perhaps the name of a place or a person? Something related to Tanya? Elie jotted down TANYA 1945. Below he wrote in reverse order: AYNAT 5491.
A while later, Herr Hoffgeitz’s assistant reappeared. Elie showed him the page. Gunter checked the file and shook his head. “Please return when you have the correct information, Herr Danzig. Or, better yet, suggest to General von Koenig that he comes here in person.”
Elie collected the passport, the SS identification card, the ledger, and the list of the Paris accounts. He put everything in his inside breast pocket.
The elderly attendant helped Elie into his coat, and Gunter Schnell held the front door open. “By the way, Herr Danzig, how did you like the Chagall windows at the Fraumunster?”
“I didn’t,” Elie responded without missing a beat. “Typical Juden kitsch masquerading as art. Don’t you agree?”
Chapter 35
Late at night, after turning on the recording devices, Tanya went to bed with an Agnon book. The story was titled Agunot — The Forsaken Wives. It dramatized the traditional marriage that kept a woman bound by the strictures of Talmud long after all the other aspects of matrimony had dissolved. Sad, but beautifully written. She was so caught up in the world that Agnon had created that the knocks on the door seemed to belong in the story rather than in reality. But they sounded again, insistent, loud.
She wrapped herself in the blanket and went to the door. “Who is it?”
“Abraham Gerster.”
When she opened the door, only his face, beard, and payos stood out in the darkness, the rest of him as black as the night. He was panting hard.
“You walked here?”
He nodded.
“Why in the middle of the night?”
“I waited until my wife fell asleep.” He coughed. “She’s going out of her mind. I have to do something. You must help me!”
“How did you know where I live?”
“My son.” He gasped for air. “I followed him one Saturday when he-”
“When he came for my books?”
“Was it only books he came for?”
Tanya thought of their Saturday afternoons together, Lemmy’s clothes on the floor, easily visible through the window.
He leaned against the doorpost. “Oh, Tanya, what have I done?”
She reached up and caressed the side of his face. “It’s not your fault.”
“Who else?” He grabbed her hands and pressed them to his chest. “My heart belonged to you! Always! But I agreed to live a lie! I made a terrible mistake marrying her!”
Her heart racing, Tanya spoke with difficulty. “Did you tell your wife to write-”
