Ken stood across the room guarding the front door with his arms crossed high on his chest. Harry moved as the tape played, pushing his large body between the chairs, around the tables, smiling and nodding.
It was a condemnation of Jews, nothing else. There was no talk of blacks or other minorities, no plea for a pure white America. There was, instead, a steady stream of talk about the Jews, how they owned the media, ran the country, were filled with evil. Rabbis slept with little girls, the voice said. Part of the Torah, it said.
The young woman gave a yip of shock, her frightened eyes searching the room for other reactions. Ellen wondered if her husband beat her, he looked like the type. So did she.
“God, that is horrible,” said the older woman, her face folding in lines of disgust.
The nurse grunted with satisfaction. She heard it all before. The bearded man puffed quickly.
“It was like Nazi Germany,” Ellen would tell them later in the newsroom. “I didn’t know people still believed this crap.”
They did. She could see that. They believed all of it.
Harry waited almost a full minute after the tape ended. He waited for the emotion, the tension to build. Then, he spoke.
“You see what I mean. That man knows what he’s talking about. He’s been to college. He knows.”
They nodded.
“Now, I want to show you something you aren’t going to believe. This will prove to you what’s really going on in this country. This will show you who’s trying to run this country.” He left the room.
She shifted uncomfortably in the hard metal folding chair. She ached with the long sitting. She tried to give them all a friendly, safe smile.
Harry was back, his arms full of boxes and cans of food.
Thank God, she thought, he’s going to give us something to eat. “I want you all to look at these. Look. Right here.” His large forefinger stabbed at one of the boxes. “This is how the Jews run this country. Do you see?”
He flashed the offending box with his finger now cemented on one spot.
“Take it.” He thrust the box at the young woman. “Pass it around. Everybody look at it.”
The woman stared at the box. She turned it, examining all the sides.
“No, no,” he snapped. “Here.” He grabbed the box, pointing again. “See?”
Ellen leaned forward.
“Oh yes,” said the woman, smiling with relief. It was a test and she passed.
“I see it. I do.”
All of them were leaning forward now.
“It’s on everything. Everything,” Harry shouted. “Go home and check your own cabinets. You’ll find it. Kosher,” he crowed. “It says kosher.”
The faces in the room did not respond to the horror of his pronouncement.
“The Jews force companies to put that on their food. They make them do it. And, if they don’t do it, the Jews won’t buy it. Do you believe that? This is one of the ways they are running this country. We say ruining.” He gave a sickly smile.
They were obviously confused by this kosher thing. What did it mean? It was bad, they knew that, because it had something to do with those Jews, those filthy Jews.
They began to slowly nod and to reach for the boxes and cans being passed around the circle. Yes, they could see that, another filthy Jew thing, those filthy, big-nose Jews running the country, those rich Jews. Ellen kept her head down. She had not opened her notebook, not written one word.
The blindfold went on at the door. She felt no fear of Ken or Bruce. Twice on the ride back to the city Ken shouted out a license plate number. Twice they were copied down in the backseat.
When they reached the parking lot, she saw her one mistake. She walked stiff-legged to her car, trying to stand between it and them. They would see her license plate. They would add that to their list. On Monday, they could easily get her address along with all the others from the Motor Vehicle Department.
*
“It’s right about here,” she said, pointing to a spot on the map. “I’m sure it is.”
Frank Kowalski looked over her shoulder.
“I am sure that guy with the beard was a cop or a newspaper reporter,” she said. She now remembered his reaction to her as the fear of being recognized.
What an idiot she had been to go out there with those morons. No protection, nothing. And, for what, she asked herself. For what?
“I ain’t the photographer on this one,” Clifford told them. Frank and Ellen laughed but she wasn’t so sure she wanted it either.
Two days later Harry called.
“So, you told them,” he hissed. “You told them, squealer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You did have us followed, didn’t you, and you told them all about us. You know how we feel about squealers?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said strongly. “I wasn’t followed and I haven’t talked to anybody outside this newsroom about anything.”
She looked around the room, trying to catch someone’s eye, to signal someone to pick up another phone and listen.
“Then how do that cops know? How?”
“What cops?”
“The ones sitting outside the house all the time, the ones following me. How did they find out?”
“It wasn’t me, Harry. I gave you my word.” She filled her voice with indignation.
“Yeah, well, maybe not.” Now he sounded unsure. “It better not be you. We’ll find out,” he said, his voice strong again. “And we don’t like squealers.”
She could feel the sweat starting under her arms. She was almost panting.
“And I’m not big on threats,” she snapped back. “I didn’t tell anybody and no one followed me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We’ll see.” He hung up.
She went straight to Brown’s office. She wanted out, she told him, out of the series.
“What good will it do?” she asked him. “The ones who think the same way they do aren’t going to change. I don’t think it’s worth a series. And frankly, I don’t think we’re going to tell anybody anything they don’t already know.”
He
