by Tricia Goyer
“Why wouldn’t they believe you? You don’t look threatening.” Konrád leaned forward and narrowed is gaze. “Have you discovered anyone of interest?”
“Not really. They are simple peasant women with their children. Jews mostly, some Communists whose husbands have already fled to England.”
“Anything else?”
Emil shrugged. “I do not know what to look for. Are you going to tell me? There were so many children at this place. Surely you are not looking for a child. There were some women too. They all looked so desperate…”
His voice trailed off, and disgust caused Konrád to snarl. The weak helping the weaker. It was loathsome to watch. Soon the German nation would be rid of all of them, and then the world would see what a truly pure nation could accomplish at the height of its power.
Konrád pulled out the list from his pocket and started to read. Five names. A few of the names were from the town Emil was from, and familiarity flashed in his eyes.
Emil lifted up his hand as if to ask a question. “Aren’t you concerned that if you tell me those names, I will warn them they are being hunted?”
Konrád sneered. “No, that is not a problem. These are the ones who’ve already been found and are in our hands.”
Fear filled Emil’s eyes. “Already?”
“So many are waiting until the Nazis take over the country completely, but we are not interested in waiting. Especially with so many refugees coming in. No one knows who is walking these streets, do they?”
Hate shot out of Emil’s gaze. “No, I suppose not,” he spat, for the first time showing a bit of the fire he had stored up inside.
Seeing that actually pleased Konrád. He’d always wanted a worthy opponent.
Emil stared out the window at the city streets below. “Why do you have me working with the refugees? There are very few men around there. Most of the ones you seek have probably already crossed the border or are in hiding.”
“I do believe you’re right. And that is why I am not asking you to find a man, but a woman…with children.”
Emil’s head flipped around quickly. His eyes widened. “A woman? Why ever would you need me to find a woman?”
“I already told you. She has information about the location of something very valuable to me.”
Konrád had Emil’s complete attention now. Not wanting to disappoint him, Konrád offered a sly smile and rose. He moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer. There, tucked under his things, was a large envelope. He pulled it out, walked to the table next to Emil, and sat.
Konrád took a large family photo from the envelope first. It showed four smiling faces: a handsome young father, his beautiful wife, and their two children. The man stood beside his wife, who was seated in a white, high-backed chair. The man wore a white shirt and a black, double-breasted suit coat. His wife’s dark hair was pinned up in an attractive style, and her dress could have come from one of the finest shops in Prague.
Hot anger surged through Konrád’s veins when he realized his mother had never worn such fine things until recently. Now that had changed, of course, since this woman’s wardrobe was now his mother’s.
“The woman’s name is Pavla Šimonová. She has two children, Ondřej and Klára. I went looking for them the day after Kristallnacht, but they were already gone. It looks like they left in a hurry, but I noticed they left all kinds of information behind.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, this woman was an only child. Her parents have both passed away. I couldn’t find much communication with other family members—it seems she embraced her husband’s family completely—and so my guess is that she didn’t run toward her former family home. Of course, that would have done no good anyway, since it is also part of the new German annex of the Sudetenland.”
In the photo, a boy stood in front the man, shoulders back, smile wide. He looked to be five or six years old and had black curls. His smile showed he was missing one of his front teeth. The youngest child, a girl, sat on her mother’s lap. Her hair was lighter, nearly blonde, and her eyes looked light too. If Konrád had to guess, he’d say they were blue or hazel. She was a pretty little thing and could pass for Aryan if need be. He might not have left so quickly with the girl’s father and grandparents if he had known she was inside.
Konrád had heard many German families were requesting Aryan-looking children to be sent to them from the new frontier, and he knew that one of Hitler’s goals was to Germanize as many children as possible. Children were Germany’s future, and his new fatherland would need many able men and women to support their future conquests and build a solid foundation for the projected thousand-year Reich.
The girl would have been a pretty prize to send to some high-ranking Nazi official. He would consider that later, after he had found the family. He’d do anything to move up the ranks of the Gestapo. And he’d use anyone to get him there.
“That is their daughter?” Emil asked, pointing, as if also surprised by the child’s fine features and light coloring.
“It is, or at least I think it is. Of course, such a beautiful woman…” Konrád didn’t finish the thought, but he knew many of his friends would have no problem sleeping with such an attractive woman, Jewish or not.
He looked at the date written on the back of the photo. “This is a couple of years old, so the children would be older now.”
“Do you know if they’ve come to Prague?” Emil asked.
“I know they are refugees. They are running. This seems like the obvious place to go.”
“And your guess is they will want to get out of the country.”
Konrád nodded and then slid a few more photos of the happy, smiling faces out of the envelope.
Konrád watched as Emil picked up the photos, studying them one at a time. In a smaller photo of the boy and girl, they were older. Konrád thought the boy looked more Jewish in his features, but the girl appeared only more beautiful.
“I will have no problem remembering those faces, but what will you do with them after you find them?”
“Ah…” Konrád chuckled. “Are you worried I am going to harm them, Emil?” He leaned back and placed his hands on his chest. “What type of monster do you think I am? I only wish to talk to them. That is all.”
Emil nodded, and Konrád knew the man didn’t believe him. Yet he also knew the man didn’t have a choice. “I know there are many refugees, but this beautiful woman won’t be too hard to find.” He leaned back even more in the chair, letting it rest against the wall, and laced his fingers behind his neck. “And also remember they will be desperate. Do not try to be too clever. Instead, just let me know where they are, and I will do the rest.”
“And if I can’t find them? What if they have not come to Prague? What if they are not even alive?”
“Trust that they are.” He leaned forward, reached out quickly before Emil could pull away, and squeezed Emil’s shoulder with a vise-like grip, causing him to wince. “Because only when I find them can we even begin to discuss your freedom. And it would be sad to have to inform your sister that you would be unable to join her after all.”
“And the husband?” Emil leaned closer to the first photo, taking in the view of the man. “Should I expect to find him too? Or has he already left with a work visa to England?”
“Oh, her husband. It is very bad news. He is already dead. I took care of that myself.”
The color drained from Emil’s face, and he nodded. He stared at the image of the man’s smile as the news sunk in. “Can I ask what the man did…why you killed him?”
Konrád returned all four of the chair’s legs to the ground. He shrugged. “He robbed from me, and I robbed from him.” Konrád laughed. “Yes, I robbed him of his life. It was a theft I’d been contemplating for most of my growing up years. It’s a new world, Emil. A world where only the strong survive.”
FIFTEEN
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Saturday, December 24, 1938
With Andrew by her side, Amity s
pent three days visiting the various refugee centers around the outskirts of Prague. With Emil’s translation help, they discovered that a few of the parents had enough money to help with their children’s travel and care. Yet too many more didn’t even know where their next meal would come from. Amity’s goal was to help them find the best way to get their children out of the country, but gathering all the information was not proving to be easy.
Every night a taxi carried Andrew and Amity back to the heart of the city. It was easier to get a good night’s sleep at the hotel. Those who stayed at the relocation center and took over caregiving responsibilities got little rest as refugee children cried and their mothers and fathers pounded on the office doors at dawn. Amity had never seen such a dedicated bunch of volunteers. Many, like Emil and Marek, had heard about the need and had simply stepped forward to volunteer their time.
Sometimes when they arrived at the hotel, Andrew and Amity wouldn’t go in right away. Instead, they walked along the long stretch of Wenceslas Square or strolled over to the astronomical clock on the Old Town Hall to watch the figures of the twelve apostles take their nightly stroll upon the full hour.
This night they did the same, and as midnight approached, they waited. Small groups of men, women, and children gathered around them with candles in their hands. The candlelight flickering on smiling faces was uplifting, compared to the anguish and tears they’d witnessed over the past few days.
At the stroke of midnight, the two doors above the clock face opened, and the little wooden men rode on a track out one door and in through the other. The twelve apostles exited in twos and traveled from the left to the right window. As soon as the apostles finished their rounds, a gilded statue of a rooster in the upper part of the tower started to crow. And on the left side of the clock face, a wooden skeleton came to life, tolling a funeral bell.
“A skeleton. Of all the things, I don’t understand that one,” Amity stated.
“He represents death, reminding viewers that death will come to everyone.”
Amity wrapped her arms tighter around her. “It’s not something one is likely to forget around here these days.”
At the same time the clock struck midnight, the church bells erupted from every direction around the city. “What is that? Why are the church bells ringing?”
“They are welcoming in Christmas. That’s today, you know.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot.” It was easy to forget everything except the sad stories of the people they were trying to help. An image of her previous Christmas with Celia and Clark flooded her mind, and an ache of longing filled her chest. She tried to push the longing down but was unsuccessful.
Tonight, as they walked back to their hotel, they talked about the people they had met that day, but mostly they talked of home—of England—and the ache developing in Amity for Celia.
“She’s a beautiful young woman. She has her father’s dark eyes, good looks, and charm. Sometimes I feel guilty for taking Clark’s money to teach her. His daughter is bright, just like him, and witty. I’ve never met a father and daughter so similar.”
Andrew smiled. “It sounds like you care for Clark very much.”
Amity’s stomach tightened hearing Clark’s name upon her brother’s lips. “No…uh, I spoke of Celia.”
Andrew cast a sideways glanced at her, the moonlight reflecting off his face. “Oh, yes. I’d forgotten.”
“I sent a telegram, you know, a few days ago. I sent a message to Clark to tell him I’d be longer—until the end of January. I asked if I can have an advance on my next paycheck too. Although who knows when I’ll return to earn it. I haven’t heard back yet. I hope I’ll still have a job when I’m through.”
“I thought you signed a contract for two more years?”
“I did, but I’m not really keeping my bargain, now am I? I was supposed to return by the first of the year.”
“I don’t think Clark will get rid of you so easily. He’s a very levelheaded fellow.”
The softest flakes of white fell from the sky, and Amity lifted her gloved hand to catch them. “You know who I’d really like to know better is Emil. He’s a fascinating man. I mean, how many young men his age would volunteer their time for a social organization?”
Andrew cleared his throat, and Amity could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t agree. “Emil is young and seems a bit flighty. I’m surprised he’s stuck around as long as he has.”
“You were young and flighty once too, remember? First traveling to New York City and then to England. You wanted to see the world, and you weren’t going to let anyone hold you back.”
“You’re right.” Andrew scuffed his leather shoe on the ground, kicking up a clump of fresh snow. “And now, just think, I’m working for the British Home Office. It’s amazing the English trust me with their borders, especially since my passport is American.”
“Yes, but you attended university there. And who knows, maybe an American passport will be even more valuable than a British one someday.” Amity took her brother’s arm in her grasp, and they began their walk back to the hotel.
“Besides, what’s not to trust about you, Andrew? I trusted you enough to come, didn’t I? But it’s Christmas, let’s not talk about work, shall we? I think I’ll burst into tears if I have to remember the look on that woman’s face when she handed over her infant son today.” Amity lowered her voice. “She confessed to living and working on the streets. I asked her to stay. I told her I’d find a way to help her, but she refused. From the look in her eyes, it appeared she’d already died, as if she had no hope.”
“Either hopeless, or trapped in her own little inner world. It’s what people do, you know, to survive. They escape into themselves and lock out their emotions. It’s better not to feel than to ache. People do what they have to at times like these. These transports, with parents leaving children behind…it’s unbearable. And when children have to leave their parents to survive…well, I can’t imagine which one is worse. I think not knowing how your loved one is doing would be the hardest.”
“But if we can save their lives, it will be worth it, won’t it?” She sighed. “Yet all this paperwork is getting in the way—not to mention all the competition between the different agencies who have the same goal. It’s not getting anyone anywhere. Every committee believes its cases are the most urgent. But surely they can see there is no movement without order. I wish we could just get them to understand that.”
Amity thought again of the large clock tower, remembering the various parts. Some dials told the time, others the season. Some gave a chart of the stars in the sky. And all of it had been brought together in perfect harmony, with each part doing its unique job. But she realized that in the center of it all was a simple glass face. Did the one piece of glass know that for hundreds of years it would be the center of so much movement?
They turned down a narrow cobblestone road, now void of any autos or people, and Amity thought again of all the clock’s moving parts. Each part had its own job, but its design enabled the parts to move together.
Every part of these refugee organizations is moving, but not together. If only someone took the time to create a great design from all the parts…
They’d strolled only ten yards down the quiet street when Amity paused. Andrew did too, and he looked over at her curiously, clearly wondering why they stopped. She tried to snap her fingers, but her gloved hands made it impossible.
“That’s it!” she cried, grasping Andrew’s shoulders.
“What?”
“The clock. It all makes sense now.”
He chuckled. “Did you just now realize what all the hands and dials mean?”
“No, I’m thinking about the transport list.”
“I don’t understand.” He led them to stand under the light of a streetlamp and waited for her to continue.
“I have an idea. We can create one master list. We’ll start with a blank page and add names of the most urgent cases we’ve inte
rviewed. Then Emil can call the committees and invite them to submit their most pressing cases to be added to the list.”
Andrew stroked his chin, listening, but she could tell he was already doubting this idea would work. “And why would anyone allow you to create this list? To oversee it?”
“Because I’m your sister. You work for the Home Office. You, more than anyone, know how great the burden is to work with so many different agencies. We will help them see how this will expedite the process in London. Don’t you agree that it will be easier for officials there to work from just one master list, thereby helping the agencies in Czechoslovakia get more refugees out?”
Andrew’s eyes brightened, and Amity could tell he was starting to understand. “Yes, we do spend so much time responding to different agencies, trying to keep everyone updated.”
“See, it makes sense. One list will help those who are working on the transport papers. Things will move quicker.” A chill raced up her spine, and she attempted to ignore the doubts that yapped at the edges of her mind.
Andrew nodded, and a smile touched the corners of his lips. “I do think it will help.”
Amity clasped her hands together. “It’s worth a try then, isn’t it? We can let all the other agencies know that unless the other lists are received within twenty-four hours of the deadline, their refugees will not be included.”
“Instead of everyone fighting for the same spots and holding up the process, we can work together,” Andrew said. Then tenderness filled Andrew’s face, followed by deep concern. For a moment Andrew was no longer representing the Home Office. Instead, he was simply a big brother worried about his little sister. “But are you sure you can handle this, Ami? It’s a lot to take on.”
“I’m not sure, but it’s worth a try. Emil can help me.”
“Of course, Emil is your answer.” Andrew laughed. “Good ol’ Emil.”
Yet Andrew’s face brightened as the idea took shape in his mind. “I’m heading home on Tuesday. I keep pushing back the date, but I’m told there is no pushing it back this time. And I have to keep this job. The people here are counting on me to spur on the Home Office from the inside.”
