Magda backed away. He considered her. No, she would not keep a revolver. She had been a fool, taken another unnecessary risk. Better the guns go to those who knew how to use them, deserved them, were brave enough to require them in the first place.
“You can’t hide forever,” Renata said. “At some point, Magda, you’re going to have to face that world out there. It’s the only one we’ve got until we force it to be something different.”
Magda shook her head.
Renata strode over to Aleš and took the revolver from his hand before placing it on the table. She then led Magda to the single bed. They sat, the wood frame creaking. They weren’t many—Aleš and Renata, Davide and Father Gabriel were four of a handful of the local Czechs and Slovaks who did what they could both aboveground and underground. But the Nazis had managed to crush the opposition throughout the country. Their little group had very few resources, relying on the hard-to-access roads and the wooded mountains to keep them hidden. And still Aleš and Renata were frustrated—Magda sensed it—that they could not do more. Worst of all, the one and only bridge between the north and south—between Litoměřice and Theresienstadt—had been closed off. Only those with travel permits were allowed to cross. There were only so many fake permits the group could manage, so Davide had become quite the talent with the radio.
He had to keep moving to avoid being detected by patrols set up to pick up radio frequencies, but his close connections to the railway lines and his contacts in the various train stations had allowed him to create a flow of information.
“Have you heard anything from or about Eva?” Magda asked. She always asked.
Renata shook her head. “That’s good news, Magda. Koenig would make an example of her. Even if she was captured elsewhere, he’d put her out on display—either as a poster or, you know, publicly, I mean. The bastard.”
Magda swallowed the lump in her throat. “Please tell me where Eva has gone with Samuel. Please. If anything should happen to either you or Aleš…” She inhaled and held it until she was in control again. “I need to know where she might be, Renata.”
Renata looked at Aleš. He looked up at the ceiling, brushed a hand over his head.
“All right, Magda,” Renata said. “Eva took him into the Carpathians. There’s a remote mountain village near the borders to Hungary and Ukraine.”
That was a long way to go.
“She told Aleš she knows someone living there. If she made it, she should be relatively safe.”
Magda looked up at the leaking ceiling. Nowhere was safe. Ukraine certainly was not. Hungary was an Axis power. And they still did not know whether Eva had even reached her intended destination. She dreaded asking the next question. “What about the Taubers?”
Everyone shifted before Renata answered. “Davide’s contact keeps track of how many trains are coming and going and from where. They’re going straight into Theresienstadt now but they come in full—beyond full, really—and the ones heading east have picked up in number over the last weeks especially.”
Magda frowned. “Where are they sending everyone?”
Renata said, “There are rumors…labor camps, concentration camps…”
“Death camps,” Aleš said. He leaned against the edge of the table. Davide and he shared a look.
Magda’s breath hitched. “What do you mean by death camps?”
Mouth twisted, Renata said, “We can’t confirm anything. We’re not sure but…the children of Lidice? Remember?”
Magda’s heart cracked.
“Apparently the Nazis have invented a rather efficient…method.”
“If the rumors are true,” Davide interjected.
Magda shut her eyes. “Do we even know whether the Taubers are still in Theresienstadt at all?”
“We do,” Aleš said. “For whatever reason, the Jews from the protectorate have been left alone in the meantime.”
Magda opened her eyes to check whether he was lying.
He gazed back at her steadily, raised an eyebrow. “The SS is allowing letters out now, and then we found out that food parcels have been arriving for some people.”
Magda allowed herself to brighten. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? That’s something.”
Aleš cleared his throat. He rubbed a hand over his smooth head. “There are a lot of prominent people in the ghetto. We believe the camp administrators are using it to their advantage. To give the other Jewish families more reason to cooperate.”
Renata shifted on the sagging bed. “Many of the Reich’s Christian locals and church leaders have been protesting about the treatment of the Jews—”
“Think about it,” Aleš said. “If a Jewish family receives word from a relative in Theresienstadt, or if news of someone famous—a lecturer, an artist, a celebrity, whoever—”
“Like Frau Tauber,” Magda said. “She’s well known. And Dr. Tauber, well, he’s known everywhere.”
“If it seeps out,” Aleš said, “and they claim that they are quite well, then the Nazis can lure the Jews to go with them in a relatively quiet fashion.”
“How do you know all this?” Magda asked.
Renata hesitated. “Someone escaped.”
“What?” Magda straightened.
“Two brothers, both carpenters from Prague,” Renata said, “were on detail. They were helping with a film set.”
“A film set?” Magda looked at each of them.
Davide scratched his head, as if he were considering what to say next. He dropped his hand. “It’s perverse.”
Between the three of them, Magda got the story. The Ministry of Propaganda had ordered a screenwriting contest, and though Aleš and Renata did not know who won or what the prize was, the camp guards asked for volunteers for everything, from actors and costumers to carpenters and electricians, everything. The two men from Prague were put on a carpentry detail. The Nazis chose who would take part in the film, dressed up the selected actors, plopped them into lavish settings with buffets and food, and made quite a spectacle of how wonderful it really was in Theresienstadt, because what else was it other than a cultural city meant to protect the Jews from the war?
As the
