The Fifth Column

by Andrew Gross

  “So when is all this happening?” I asked. “All I want is to do what I have to do and have Emma released. I want to see her before I go.”

  “Don’t worry yourself with so many details,” Trudi Bauer said. She was dressed in a dark suit and flat navy hat. “All will be revealed soon. Be assured. But I’m afraid what you ask won’t be possible. Emma is safe and in good hands. Hands that have cared for her. As soon as we are safe, a call will be made, I assure you. As Mr. Latimer has said, we have no reason to harm her once we accomplish our goal. We’re not exactly savages.”

  Not only did I have to help them, she was saying, I now realized their mission had to be successful for Emma to be released. I prayed I hadn’t screwed it up by agreeing to work with Fiske. But what choice did I have?

  “Let me speak to her then. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

  “Now?” Willi Bauer shook his head. “Impossible.”

  “Yes. Call her up. It’s the least you can do for me. Please. You say you care for her. She must be scared out of her wits. I’m living up to my word.”

  My argument seemed to make a dent in Willi’s hardened demeanor. He glanced toward Trudi, who, with the slightest shrug and hardened gaze, gave her husband the answer.

  “Tonight, perhaps,” he proposed.

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes. You’ll be here at midnight sharp.”

  “Midnight? It’s happening tonight?” Nerves sprang up in me. Midnight meant Emma’s life and mine were on the line. A rat-tat-tat sped up in my blood.

  “The less you know, the better, Mr. Mossman,” Trudi Bauer said. I inched as close as I could to the table, hoping to make sure of the target. My eyes glanced down, taking in as much of the map as I could. Before Willi started to fold it up.

  “Unless I know she’s safe and unharmed, I’m not going through with it,” I said. “That’s not negotiable for me. I want to hear her voice.”

  “I can’t promise, Mr. Mossman. You are certainly not in a position to be bargaining with us.”

  “Maybe. But you’re the one who wants me to betray my country. What if you’ve already harmed her? That’s what it will take if you want me. To speak with her.”

  Willi glanced at Trudi. She seemed to nod ever so subtly. “Just be here tonight. We’ll see what we can do.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  I looked around. Freddy, the dough-faced man who had driven the second car, was there too.

  “Just one more thing…,” Willi said. “So what are you, Mr. Mossman…?” He seemed to size me up. “A fifty long perhaps?”

  “Fifty long…?”

  “So sorry. I always still think in European sizes. Force of habit after all these years. An American size forty, perhaps? In a jacket?”

  “I don’t know. Forty. Yeah, I guess,” I said. “Why?”

  “Twelve sharp, Mr. Mossman,” Willi said. “You can go now. But I must remind you, if you do anything stupid, if we feel even the slightest lessening of your commitment … if Mrs. Bauer or I don’t make a call at precisely the right hour, no one will ever see your daughter again. So her fate is in your hands. Just so you know. You understand me, don’t you?”

  I looked back at him, and then at Trudi, with a coil wrapping tighter and tighter in my gut.

  “I understand.”

  37

  At six, I sat at a table at the Seligman’s Kosher Cafeteria on Bushwick Avenue near my apartment in Brooklyn.

  A few early diners, mostly older types, sat at about six tables in the restaurant, polishing off plates of kreplach, bowls of borscht, roast chicken in gravy, or a slice of pie. I picked at a plate of brisket, but I wasn’t exactly hungry.

  It was happening tonight.

  By morning, I’d either have my daughter home and safe again and back with Liz, or, God forbid, I’d be dead, she might be dead, and a terrible thing would have happened to the country. I was thinking it might be better if I didn’t survive the night.

  A man in a fedora and raincoat stepped in.

  “Take any table,” someone from behind the counter said to him.

  “Thanks.” He found an empty one on the other end of the dining area, took off his hat, revealing a long, thin face with a mole on his chin.

  “Brisket’s lean,” the waiter in a white shirt and apron said. “Everyone seems to like.”

  “Just a coffee for now, please. I’ll come get it in a minute.”

  He looked my way with a subtle nod, got up, and headed back down a short corridor to the men’s room. Another man I didn’t recognize—short, dark—got up and put himself at the entrance to the corridor, as if blocking traffic. No one else even glanced up from their food.

  I put down my knife and fork and got up as well. As I went past the man guarding, he merely motioned me along with a subtle flick of his chin. In there. A mobster setting up a hit couldn’t have done it in a more mundane way.

  In the men’s room, Fiske was washing his hands. “We’ve got about two minutes before it starts to look fishy. What do you know?”

  “It’s happening tonight,” I said. “Or early tomorrow morning. They’ve asked me to come back to the brewery at midnight.”

  “Midnight. Do you have any idea where?”

  “The Kensico Reservoir,” I said. “It’s up in Westchester somewhere. They had the site map opened up on a table, so I’m sure. They folded it up when they saw me looking at it.”

  “Kensico?” Fiske looked at me and questioned.

  “Yes. I saw the same map once before, opened up in their apartment.”

  “Sixty percent of the city’s water supply comes from the Kensico Reservoir,” Fiske uttered gravely, in the manner a general might observe when coming upon a battlefield and looking over an opposing force double the size of his own.

  “I didn’t see any of the beer kegs. Maybe they have them stored somewhere where they used to keep the beer.”

  “Yes, certain gases need to stay refrigerated to avoid combustion.”

  “I think they actually said it wasn’t a gas. That they’d found some way to treat it so that it wouldn’t just dilute in water. They’re going to kill me after,” I said. “After I’ve done whatever they need me to do. I told them I needed to speak with Emma. They wouldn’t let me. Maybe tonight, I was told. But I could feel it, the way they were all looking at me. The minute I’ve done what I’m there to do, I’m as good as a dead man.”

  “We’re not going to let that happen, Charlie,” Fiske assured me. “I give you my word.”

  “Your word, it’s as good to me as theirs,” I said. “Anyway, all that matters for me is Emma. They told me again if they don’t make a certain call after this is over, there are orders to kill her, so, whatever you do, they have to be captured alive. Do you hear me? You’re watching the brewery, right?”

  Fiske nodded. “We are.”

  “And can you trace the call? If I get them to get Emma on the line. I’ve heard that’s possible today.”

  “Maybe. If they let you stay on long enough. It’s not perfect or quick. But … Our plan will be to take the Bauers alive at all costs. We need them ourselves, to dig out the entire network. I suspect in the end they’ll be happy to trade the whereabouts of a six-year-old girl who means nothing to them for some reduction of what’s in store for them.”

  “Your mouth to God’s ears, Fiske,” I said. “You say you’re a father?”

  He nodded. “A boy and a girl.”

  “Just know, if things don’t happen like you say, if this goes south in any way, you’ll have this in your mind every time you look at your own daughter.”

  “I don’t need that as an incentive to do my job. I promise you, we’ll be there, Mr. Mossman.”

  “You better be. Just remember, you’re the ones who pushed your way in on this, Fiske. I was perfectly set to go at it alone.”

  “Don’t worry, Charlie. You’re not alone. You have my word. Still, maybe it’s best we give you a gun to go in there with. Just in case. A
nd a wire.”

  “No. Curtis, the maintenance guy, or Kurt, Oberleutnant Leitner as they refer to him—the guy’s a German officer—frisked me as soon as I came in. I’m sure they’ll do the same tonight. If they find something on me, they’ll know I’ve been talking to someone. I can’t take the chance.”

  “All right…” Fiske massaged his chin in thought. “Here’s what we’ll do. There’ll be a white Pontiac sedan parked right outside the brewery entrance. Jersey plates. Under the rear passenger wheel you’ll find a gun. Once they frisk you, say you want to go out and have a smoke. Or you need some air. Your nerves are making you sick. When you’re next to it, toss your cigarette out and find a way to bend down and pick up the gun. Hopefully, they’ll be busy with their own preparations and won’t be watching you.”

  “All right.” I blew out a breath. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Ever use one?” Fiske inquired.

  “A gun? No.” I shrugged.

  “The safety will be off. Just point it at someone who’s trying to kill you and pull the trigger,” the government man said with a smile. “Simple.”

  “Thanks. I’ll try.”

  “All right, we better get out of here now. Listen, luck be with you later.” He squeezed my arm. “You’re doing a brave thing, Mr. Mossman. I know you’re nervous about your daughter. There isn’t a father in the world who wouldn’t be. But I just want you to know, we’ll get her for you. Just know we’ll be at the target site. You won’t see us, but we’ll be in place. We’ll take them down once we see who shows up and they’re in motion. I assure you, one of them will give up her location, rather than face kidnapping charges and an espionage sentence that would mean the rest of their lives in jail.”

  “All right.” My stomach started to churn with nerves. At both the thought of Emma and the resonance of the word “tonight.” It was all playing out in a matter of hours. Even if Fiske’s raid proved successful we still had the challenge of getting Emma, but if I didn’t involve them, I’d have no control over it at all. Fiske put his hand on the doorknob.

  “One more thing…,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Bauer asked me for my jacket size.”

  “Your jacket size?” Fiske said.

  “I have to figure they’re not fitting me for a tuxedo,” I said.

  38

  I got back to my place around six thirty and called Liz at Sophie’s. I told her it was going to be tonight that things were happening. That she should probably go back to her place and wait there. And that with God’s help Emma would be returned safe.

  “Tonight,” she muttered nervously. I heard the tremor in her voice. “Charlie, just what are you going to be doing?”

  I’d never told her fully.

  “What I should be doing,” I said. “Don’t worry, we’re going to get her back. And Liz…” I felt a lump in my throat.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you in this. I mean through everything. You know I always loved you.”

  She hesitated. I wished she could have come back with “I always loved you too, Charlie.” Instead, she merely said, “You just be careful, Charlie. I trust you. Whatever you’re doing. Bring our daughter home.”

  “I will, Liz.”

  I called my mom and dad as well. I hadn’t spoken to them in months. And this might be the last time they’d ever hear from me. “I know I’ve disappointed you,” I said to my dad. “I know I wasn’t like Ben. And that you always held that against me.”

  “I never held it against you, son. It’s just that…” His voice trailed off.

  It was just that what…? I waited. He couldn’t finish it.

  “Well, I wish that things had somehow been different between us,” I said. “I wish I could take things back. I wish I could take a lot of things back.”

  “Charlie,” he said, clearly hearing my trepidation. “Are you all right, son?”

  No, I’m not all right, I should have said. My daughter is being held hostage and I’ve gotten myself into something deep and dangerous, something that might make me look very bad when it all comes out. If I even survive. And I really have no one to say goodbye to if it turns out bad. Only people to say I’m sorry to.

  “Yes, Pop, I’m all right,” I said.

  “How’s Emma?” he asked. As if mercifully changing the subject might lighten things with us. “How’s our little girl?”

  “Emma. She’s doing great,” I lied. “I hope you’re doing well, Pop. Tell Mom I love her too.”

  “Charlie, wait—”

  As I put the receiver down, I knew I might never speak to them again.

  It was just after seven now. I went upstairs and threw myself on the bed. I had five hours to go. Five hours that may well be my final ones. I lay there, smoking a Chesterfield. For a while my thoughts drifted to Liz and Emma. How I’d let them down once and how I wanted to change all that in the next few hours. Then they went back to that punch I had thrown in that bar. One reckless act that had changed everything for me. And the kid I’d inadvertently killed. Who never had a chance to become the person he was destined to be. How badly I would have liked to stand in front of his mother right now—and ask forgiveness from her. I had long given up any thought that it was all just a matter of bad luck and timing, but that it was me—my choice, my actions—that led to it. My responsibility.

  And Liz was right, what came between us was far more than just that one punch.

  And then I found my thoughts wandering to Ben. Whose fate for these past few years I’d taken on my own shoulders. And in the same way, I came to suddenly feel that it was his choice to go off and join the fight over there. Not mine. I’d blamed myself for it for so long, and now I saw, clear as my daughter’s eyes, that it was his. I’d never once spoken with him about why he felt the need to go. Other than to do the noble thing. Tikkun olam, he called it. He always spent more time in temple than me. It meant “to heal the world.” And it gave me strength, lying there. The courage that I was doing the right thing now. Healing my life in whatever time I had left. I had always admired him so much, and now, I was the one standing up for once. Fighting for what I loved and believed in. I felt a bit of a smile come onto my face. A peace. I felt lighter than I had in years. Tikkun olam. Heal the world. I was sure, if Ben was around, if I could share with him what was about to take place, he would admire me.

  The clock on my night table now read 8:30. Still almost three hours to go. I shut my eyes.

  Suddenly I was awakened by a knock on the door. I realized I must have dozed a little. The clock read 8:50. “Who is it?” I called out.

  “It’s me, Charlie.”

  Liz.

  I jumped up and went to open it.

  “Your landlady let me in,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind. I—”

  “No, I don’t mind at all. Come on in,” I said, and opened the door. “I must have dozed off for a second. It isn’t exactly the Ritz,” I apologized, letting her in. My one room, a table, a chair, a dresser, the bed. Some clothes thrown around haphazardly. The one shared bathroom was down the hall.

  “Thanks.” She was in a wool coat and sweater. Her hair was pulled back. Her cheeks were peaked. She looked how I felt. Which was scared. I didn’t want to show her that I felt that way too. She said, “I just couldn’t be alone, Charlie. I had nowhere to go.”

  “Do you want anything?” I asked. There was still the bottle of rye Fiske had brought on the table. “It’s not mine,” I said, seeing her eyes go toward it. “I promise. It belonged to a friend. I was just lying down. I have to leave around eleven.”

  “Eleven?” Her face grew taut with worry.

  “Yes. And you should probably head back to the brownstone around then yourself and wait.”

  “What’s going on? I wish you would tell me, Charlie.”

  “I can’t, Liz. I wish I could. Please don’t ask me again.”

  She looked around. “I could lie down too.”
She shrugged. “If that’s okay with you. You used to make me feel calmer when I would get all crazy about things. My thesis. Whether Emma was sleeping through the night.”

  I looked at her and saw she might fall apart any second. “With me? Of course, it’s okay, Liz. That would be real nice.”

  She took off her coat and draped it on the chair across from the bed. “All those things we fought over, they don’t seem really important right now, do they, Charlie?”

  I looked back at her and gave her a bolstering smile. “No, they don’t.”

  I went back to the bed and sat on it. Knees up. Liz was dressed in a gray sweater and slacks. She gave me a smile that showed she knew how awkward this was, and lowered herself down next to me. It was the closest I had been to her in over two years. I didn’t know what to do. Hold her. Put my arm around her. At first she remained a foot or two away from me on her side. Then I put my arm out on the pillow and she rested her head on it and nudged a bit closer to me. Her head fit onto my shoulder and her body fit in the grooves against me as naturally as a missing puzzle part you’ve been looking for. We had done it a thousand times.

  I squeezed gently.

  “I know I’ve been mean to you,” she said. “I know I’ve acted like I was unable to forgive you. And for a while, I’m sorry, Charlie, I couldn’t. It was hard. Not forgiving you was the only way I could not feel pain. But I have forgiven you now. I just didn’t know how else to be. Our life had changed so much.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, and pulled her slightly closer. “I see it now.”

  “I was just so fucking angry, Charlie. You hurt me. And I didn’t know how else to be.”

  “I was angry too, Liz. At a lot of things. Not at you. Ben, maybe. What happened to him.”

  She nodded against my chest. “It’s just not fair what happened. Any more than what happened to that boy at the bar.”

  “No, neither were fair,” I said. “Any more than it’s fair what’s happened to Emma.”

  “You have to bring her back,” Liz suddenly said. She turned to me. “That’s the only way out of this, Charlie. Can you see? She. You. You both have to come back to me. Promise me that. I know you can’t, really. I don’t even know what you’re going to do. But promise me anyway. Please.”