by Tricia Goyer
Konrád stepped forward and opened the door.
The soft knock on the door woke Pavla from her sleep. She opened her eyes and looked around, wondering what time it was. From the slant of the sun, later than she’d slept in a while.
Yesterday Emil had moved Maruška’s bed into her room to make it easier to care for the woman. They had pulled a third bed in too, and that’s where Madeline still slept. She’d come to stay the night, certain it would be Maruška’s last. After all that Pavla had endured, Madeline said she hadn’t wanted Pavla to face that alone.
The knock sounded again, and Pavla pulled her arm from under Klára’s sleeping form. Still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, she hurried to the door, opening it.
“Ma’am, we have news.” She recognized the voice first. Then she rubbed her eyes and cleared her vision. It was Marek. The one who took her ring.
Pavla crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?” She thought she remembered something about him being gone, but with her foggy brain she couldn’t remember.
He frowned slightly. “Emil sent me. We found your daughter’s file.”
Pavla did not believe him.
Seeing her uncertainty, the man reached into the satchel. He pulled out some paperwork and handed it to her.
She gasped. Here it was—Klára’s missing file.
“And will this cost me anything?” she snarled.
Marek seemed confused. “No, not at all. She has a sponsor. All her needs have been covered.”
Pavla flipped through the pages again, making sure he was telling her the truth. Her eyes scanned the papers, and sure enough, it was her daughter’s file. There was her name, information, and photo. Also tucked in the back were two extra photos, copies that Emil no doubt had made for her.
A gasp escaped Pavla’s lips. “So it’s true.” Her free hand covered her face. “Dear God, it’s true.”
“You need to pack and prepare. Another transport has been arranged and will be leaving in just a few days. And there is one more paper we need you to sign, but I forgot it at the office. I will need you to come with me.”
He held out his hand, indicating that she should return the file to him. She reluctantly gave it to him. “Yes, of course.”
She looked back into the room where both Madeline and Klára were still sleeping. Even though she didn’t want to wake her, Pavla went to Madeline’s side.
“Madeline?” She barely touched the woman’s arm. “Do you think you can watch Klára? I will be right back.”
Madeline’s eyes opened, fought against the bright morning sun, and then closed again. “I can watch her. Go ahead now. We will be right here.”
Pavla left with the man. “Thank you, Marek, for finding this.”
“Oh.” He smiled. “Now that our business is almost done, you can call me by my first name.”
She shivered against the morning cold as she walked. “What do you mean? Isn’t Marek your first name?”
He lifted his brow and grinned. “My name is Emil. I thought it would be confusing with two Emils working with the refugees, so I went by my last name, Marek.”
He walked with slow steps, which was causing tension to rise within her.
“Yes, that was sensible. We should hurry, though. I must get back to Madeline. I don’t want to leave her there too long. I also need time to go buy some things to prepare my daughter.”
“Wait.” He paused. “Madeline was there? In your room?”
“Yes. It is too much to explain now, and we should hurry.”
She followed Marek but was confused when he turned down an alley.
“I thought we were going to the office. This isn’t the way, is it?”
“Oh.” He waved a hand in the air. “I spent much of my childhood in this city. It is a shortcut.”
A strange feeling came over her, and an uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn’t right. This was some type of trick. He’d taken her daughter’s file for a reason.
Pavla paused her steps. The man was just beside her, moving toward a doorway. Pavla turned and began to run.
“No!” Marek’s voice shouted behind her.
The sound of footsteps pounded behind her. Then she felt Marek’s arm roughly encircle her waist. A scream pealed from her lips, and he clamped a hand over her mouth. Then another set of hands grabbed her arms, and a growl sounded in her ear. Helpless, Pavla felt herself being dragged away.
Once they’d secured the woman, Konrád demanded that Marek leave. “You better get back to your work and find some excuse for why you’ve been missing. But just because I have her doesn’t mean I am through with you yet. Keep your mouth shut.” Marek looked to Pavla, pity on his face, and for a moment Konrád thought he might show some type of bravery and try to defend this woman. Instead, Marek walked backward, reached his hand back, and touched the doorknob. Then he turned and ran out the door.
“Just like a coward. Thankfully your Abram wasn’t like that. When faced with danger he didn’t run.” Konrád laughed. “Yet he didn’t fight, did he?”
Pavla sat on the cold concrete floor. Her back was against the brick wall. Her legs were stretched out before her, and her ankles were bound. Her hands, resting on her lap, were also bound.
She’d tried screaming, tried fighting, but it had done no good.
“Scream all you want, my lady. There is no one within hearing distance. The factories are all closed today.” He shook his head. “Not that anyone would come to help if they knew you were a Jew. I’ve heard them all mumbling, the people on the streets. They are tired of being overrun by vermin.”
She jutted out her chin. “I don’t care if you kill me. Do you hear that! I want to die.” Her lower lip quivered and some of her bravado faded. “But I have to know. How do you know my husband? How do you know his name?”
Konrád kneeled before her so he was eye to eye. She was a beauty, even though she’d lost so much weight. Her long, black hair was no longer styled as it had been in Olomouc. Instead, it was in a simple braid that loosely hung over her shoulder.
“Are you telling me you don’t recognize me? We lived not a half mile apart in Olomouc. I knew you. I saw you often. My mother shopped in your husband’s pharmacy. Even though I told her she shouldn’t. I told her your family wasn’t worthy of our money.”
She narrowed her gaze, and he could tell she was searching her memory. “I am so sorry.” Her voice was gentle, as if she was trying to appease him. “Olomouc was a large town. There were many people. And I had just moved there not long before I was married. After that I was busy raising children. I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh really?” He stood and paced, walking from her to the door and then turning and walking back again. “I assumed your husband would have pointed me out. After all, it was my family who used to own your apartment.” He let out a low whistle. “It was a fine apartment, wasn’t it?”
She shook her head, and she still looked confused.
“My father used to have an important position,” he went on. “Then everything changed. Although we lived in a German-speaking area, we became part of the new country…and lost everything.”
“I’m so sorry.” She twisted the ropes on her wrist, as if trying to break out of her bindings. He watched in amusement, knowing she didn’t have a chance. “I know nothing of these things. And I don’t understand what they have to do with me now.”
“Surely your husband told you of the treasure he had hidden. And since all that he had was first mine, I’d like to claim it for myself.”
“Treasure? I have no idea what you’re talking about. We had nice things, but nothing of great value.”
A harsh laugh escaped his lips. What kind of fool did she think he was? He pulled a cigarette and a lighter from his jacket pocket and lighted it, placing it between his lips. He thought he would be able to take it easy on her. He expected her to have a weak will, as thin and frail as she was. The fact that she didn’t readily offer the
information he needed both surprised and delighted him. He appreciated a worthy opponent. He also greatly enjoyed extracting information from those who did not provide it willingly.
He leaned forward again and blew the smoke from his cigarette into her face. She coughed and turned her head away, but it did little good. With a firm hand he gripped her jaw and turned it back to him.
“Do not think I won’t use every resource available to me to extract the information I need.” He laughed.
She was silent, and he placed a hand to her neck and squeezed. Her eyes bulged, and she gasped for breath. Her face grew red, her eyes wild. When he finally released his grip, she cried out, swallowing down big gulps of air.
Konrád pulled back and took another puff from his cigarette. “Are you ready to answer yet?”
She nodded and managed to catch her breath. “I do not know anything about a treasure,” she gasped.
Konrád laughed and ran his finger down her cheek. “You should not have run away. It would have made things so much easier on me if you would have just stayed.”
“Yes,” she said louder, finding her voice again, “but what good are scared rabbits huddled inside a cage?”
Konrád reached forward and stroked Pavla’s hair. “I am actually impressed by how brave you are.” He flicked his ashes to the ground. “Now, where is the wealth your husband hid?”
“I have already told you, I don’t know what you speak of.”
“Are you saying you have no wealth?”
Pavla held back her shoulders. “From my family I have received much wealth and a priceless inheritance—deep convictions about fighting for what is good and right. I believe in the need to stand up to evil. I believe in the motto of the Czech people ‘Pravda vítězí.’ Truth prevails.”
Konrád gripped her jaw tighter, jerking it forward and upward. “You speak so poetically, but I don’t believe you’ll be able to beg for mercy in such an eloquent manner.”
Pavla let out a cry. “I promise you I do not know anything. My husband never spoke to me of treasure. I have no idea where you would have gotten that idea.”
“Why, I got the idea from your husband myself. He spoke of the treasure he’d hidden just seconds before his death.”
Pavla gasped. “You were there? Did you see who killed him?”
Konrád gave her a knowing smile.
Tears formed in her eyes. “It was you! But why?”
He paused for a moment, trying to decide what he should tell her. Trying to decide what information to give her that would extract the information he needed.
“Give me the location of the treasure, and I will tell you about your husband’s last moments. I am sure a loving wife like you would want to know of his final words.” Konrád offered a half smile. “Maybe he even had a message for you.”
Pavla’s face scrunched up. She lifted her chin and stared into his face with defiance. “Why are you doing this to me? I do not know of a treasure. You are making this up. Abram would not keep such a thing from me!”
Anger surged through every ounce of Konrád’s body. Heat coursed through his veins, and the same rage that caused him to kill her husband months ago now engulfed him.
He reached into the holster and pulled out his pistol, pointing it at her chest. “Your husband begged for his life. He begged that I would allow him to return to his wife and children. He said he would turn everything he owned over to me, including a hidden treasure, but I pulled the trigger too soon.” Konrád’s hand shook. “I pulled the trigger too soon.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she closed them and turned her head away, trying to hide her tears.
“Are you going to beg? If not for you, then for your daughter?”
He had her attention then. Blinking back her tears she looked at him, and for the first time he saw fear there.
“I know where she is. Marek told me. Haven’t you figured out the reason he took her file? He wanted to keep her for himself. Though I will take her instead.”
“You are an animal if you would dare to kill a child!” Her voice rose with anger.
He laughed. “Oh, if you think that, you think me a fool.” He smiled. “I would not kill her, but I have always wanted a daughter. Isn’t that the purpose of the occupation? To remove or kill half of the Czechs and Germanize the rest?”
“But she’s a Jew. Would you really want to adopt a Jewish child?”
“With her light hair and eyes she looks far from Jewish. Besides, it would give me unique pleasure to raise Abram’s daughter as a future member of the Reich.”
The woman’s shoulders began to tremble, and he was certain she was about to break.
“If you come closer…” she whispered. “I will tell you.” She slumped farther down, as though she did not have the strength to hold up her body anymore. “Just please don’t do anything that will hurt my daughter.” Her voice was low, soft. Konrád was certain she’d come to the end of herself. Excitement built within him. After all this time he would know of the treasure he’d been seeking.
“The treasure…” She lowered her voice even more, and Konrád leaned over her. He ran a hand down her face, wondering how a Jewish woman could be so beautiful.
“The treasure…” she repeated again.
Then with unexpected quickness, the woman’s knees pulled back and her feet rocketed forward. Before he had time to jump back, her feet kicked into his gut. The sharp pain caught him by surprise. The wind was knocked out of him. He felt his body propelling back from her, and before he could respond, she kicked him again, right in the upper thigh.
“You can kill me!” she shouted. “But you will not touch my daughter!” Her voice came from deep in her chest, like a tribal yell. And even as Konrád writhed in pain on the floor, he also found pleasure. After all those he’d killed and hunted down, finally someone worthy of a fight.
His stomach felt as if it had been split open, and he let out a low moan. Suddenly he realized his pistol had flown from his hand. He spotted Pavla attempting to crawl on her knees and bound hands toward it on the floor in front of the door.
He forced himself to his feet and staggered in her direction. Part of him wanted to allow her to get closer to the gun, to allow her to put up a good fight. But the other part of him was ready to take her life now.
Don’t do it, he told himself. Don’t give in or you will never find the treasure.
Instead of reaching for the gun, Konrád reached his hand forward and grabbed Pavla’s hair, jerking it back.
“Tell me about the treasure. Tell me about the treasure!” he growled.
“You can think what you want, but there is no treasure. Or should I lie and simply lead you on a wild goose chase? How do you know there ever was a treasure? How do you know Abram wasn’t simply trying to prolong his life? Don’t you think a man seconds away from dying would say anything for one more breath of life?”
Konrád tightened his fingers in her hair, and suddenly he knew she was telling the truth. There was no treasure. Abram had said that to deceive him. All of it had been a lie. All this time. All of it wasted.
Still holding her hair, Konrád reached his hand down and slid his jackknife out of his boot. He pointed it down at her. Then he pulled her head back so she could see it. Her eyes widened, and Konrád could tell by the resolution in her face that she knew this was the end.
He was just about to plunge the knife when he heard the door open behind him.
“Konrád!” It was Marek’s voice he heard, but it was an older woman with gray hair who stood in the door. And the last sound, before blackness, was the sound of a pistol firing one round and then two.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Monday, April 10, 1939
A low moan escaped Pavla’s lips, and pain shot up her back. Cool sheets were wrapped around her body, and Pavla stretched out her hand, searching for her children’s bodies beside her as they had been for the past few months. Nothing but emptiness awai
ted her, and her eyes flew open. She was in a bed, alone.
It was then that both events of the last week came crashing back. Her son was gone, sent to live with strangers. And she had been attacked by an evil man trying to find a treasure he believed existed and threatening to take her daughter. But after deceiving her, Marek had been flooded with remorse and had gone to get Madeline, who had run to Emil. Pavla remembered seeing Madeline scoop up the gun and fire it at her attacker, and she recalled feeling Emil’s arms around her, catching her. The strength of his arms had made her feel safe, but his embrace had brought on a deep ache from within.
In that moment, in his hold, she’d allowed herself to be weak. For so long she’d had to be strong for her children. She wanted to feel her husband’s arms around her again, wanted to rest in his protection and love.
But now the reality came crashing in. Where was Klára? Was she safe? And what about her file…had it been lost?
She opened her eyes wider, noting the light flooding into the room. It looked to be a hotel room of some sort, on the ground floor. She could hear the sounds of people and traffic just outside the window. She could hear the voice of a desk clerk in the foyer, not far from her room, welcoming a guest.
Pavla rubbed her eyes and attempted to sit up, and only then did she smell smoke and see a form sitting on a chair in the corner. Her heart began pounding until she remembered that the German was dead and it was her hair that smelled of smoke from the pistol.
The glare of the light from the window blinded her, and it was hard to make out the man’s face.
“Careful now, don’t overdo it. You have some nasty bruises. I’m surprised that struggle didn’t break you in two, considering how thin and frail you are.”
She recognized the voice immediately and relaxed. Emil. He’d been there to catch her when she fell. He was with her still.
Pavla looked down and noticed she was wearing a nightgown of fine linen like the ones she used to wear as Abram’s bride. She didn’t want to think about how she got into this gown or where her clothes were. Instead, all she could think about was Klára. Ondřej, she knew, was safe.
