Mendelevski's Box

by Roger Swindells

  ‘Simon, on time as always. How did things go yesterday afternoon?’

  ‘It was just as you said, his house was huge, he had a female assistant, his study was amazing, but he was a very unpleasant character.’

  ‘Made his money from the war?’

  ‘Officially he’s a lawyer, but, yes, he virtually said as much. He paid my father in those large denomination notes we found. It was a scheme to change that money into gold when the Germans invaded. He tempted my father with a double payment deal and my father agreed, probably because he thought having money might help us. At least, that’s what I prefer to think.’

  ‘The bastard, I just knew he was going to be a crafty bugger. I thought maybe I was being biased because of his smart address but having three gold watches especially made just smacked of black market dealings.’ He smiled. ’After all I should know. Main thing is though, was he the one?’

  ‘No, on reflection I don’t think so, he wouldn’t have known our address. It was just as Theo said. Gerrit turned up there with the watches and took the payment. He knew father had gone from Peperstraat, he sent his driver there to look for him and his watches but other than that he just sat at home until Gerrit arrived with the watches and my father’s invoice, which of course he’s destroyed.’

  ‘So now what?’

  ‘I rather hoped you had some news for me, about the car and the man we saw?’

  ‘Tonight, I hope, I have another meeting with my contact. He will hopefully have the information we want.’

  ‘Can I come with you to see him?’

  ‘I’m sorry but that’s not possible, he’s passing me information from official police records. Apparently, it’s all a bit confused at the moment, they’re re-organising the police into municipal and Rijkspolitie because of what happened in the war and the records about cars might go to the national force. No one really knows who is in charge of them at the moment. I can’t allow anyone to know who he is, and anyway, I need you here to work this evening.’

  ‘What time are you going? Maaike wants to talk to you about some time off and I might need a couple of days too.’

  ‘Bloody hell Simon, I can’t manage if both of you are missing. Her upstairs would have to run the bar, who knows how many customers I’d lose. I’ll be back by seven at the latest, it won’t be a drinking session, just a quick meeting. We’ll talk about it when Maaike’s here.’

  Maaike arrived at six. The usual crowd of early evening drinkers were in. Two of them flirted with her while the others discussed the mounting tension in the East Indies. Simon worked down in the cellar getting ready for the delivery the next day and stocking the bar with spirits.

  Jos was as good as his word, he was back just before seven and sober.

  ‘Did you find out? Who was he?’

  ‘Just a minute, be patient, I need a beer and a chat with Maaike.’

  Maaike explained that she wanted to visit her father’s sister and family but the train service meant changing at Amersfoort and Zwolle so arrangements had to be made to help her on the journey.

  ‘How long would you be away?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, all contact with my aunt has been by letter so far so arranging it takes time, but a week maybe? It depends on Grietje too because of Irene.’

  ‘And you, Simon?’

  ‘I just need to go with Maaike to Amersfoort or maybe Zwolle. I’m not going to Aunt Nel’s, and I’ll be straight back.’

  ‘Alright, if you could travel on a Sunday or Monday when we’re closed it would help me, I’ll leave it to you to tell me the dates. This lot are going to be unbearable while you’re away.’ Jos indicated the row of regulars at the bar. ‘They’ll probably stay at home or drink somewhere else until you get back. Only joking, you need to see your family and of course I understand.’

  ‘Thank you. Simon persuaded me I should go, I haven’t seen them since we moved away. My father wrote to say mother had been killed but I don’t think he told them about me and now he’s dead too.’

  ‘Right then, that’s decided. Now I need to talk to Simon, privately, away from these ears. He’ll tell you later, I’m sure.’

  Jos sat down in his corner while Simon perched on a beer crate.

  ‘Well? Do you know who it was that we saw in Kromme Palmstraat?’

  ‘I know who owns the car, it doesn’t have to be the same man, but chances are it is. But I’m not sure it’s going to take you much further.’

  ‘Jos, please don’t keep me in suspense, who is it?’

  ‘The car is owned by Edwin B…’

  He interrupted. ‘Berger! I knew it! I knew it, it’s him, he’s the one, I just know it.’

  ‘Hold on, it’s not all good news, that’s why I said it might not help much, the car is registered to the Lijnbaansgracht address.’

  ‘But it can’t be, it’s an empty shop.’

  ‘Maybe, but he’s never notified the police of a change of address.’

  ‘So we don’t know where he lives. That means I still can’t speak to him.’

  ‘No, but if you’re sure he’s the one who betrayed you, do you really want to approach him? What are you going to say?’

  ‘I can ask him about his two dealings with my father for a start.’

  ‘And where is that going to get you? He’s hardly likely to admit to selling you out to the Germans under your gentle questioning, is he?’

  ‘It has to have been him. No one else could have known we were up above that stable.’

  ‘But we don’t know for sure if he was renting it during the time you were in hiding there.’

  He sat in silence, thinking. ‘It would be amazing if he wasn’t, we know he put his stuff in storage in 1942. Couldn’t we ask de Jong who they were renting it to?’

  ‘They’re hardly likely to tell us, and anyway it still won’t help you find him, he probably hasn’t told de Jong where he is living or trading from either. As long as he pays his rent they won’t care.’

  ‘Maybe we could keep watch until he visits again. It’s all we have, it’s the only way we’re going to find him. The man in the bar on Lijnbaansgracht said Berger closed the shop there in 1942 and he didn’t know if he was opening somewhere else or just putting the stock in storage long term. Is the stuff in the stable all his stock, in which case he isn’t trading any more, or has he got a new shop somewhere? If he’s not in business anymore I just don’t see how we are ever going to trace him.’

  ‘It’s just not practical to watch the place twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Besides you can hardly challenge him in the street. We need to find his house or shop if there is one.’

  ‘I suppose not, I was just grasping at straws. This is the end of the road then, I think I know who might have betrayed my family, but I can’t confront him.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Jos gave him a conspiratorial look. ‘Leave it with me. I know someone who might help.’

  ‘You always know someone.’

  Jos closed early so they walked along their favourite canal and sat on ‘their’ bench.

  Maaike was excited about Jos’s findings. ‘So it looks like it was Berger after all.’

  ‘Out of the people we know had some sort of business or contact with father after we went into hiding it certainly does look that way. It’s not certain of course, but if he was the man renting the stable while we were hiding there, it looks very much like it.’

  ‘I knew it. There is something not right about the two invoices between him and your father. How did the two get exchanged and, in particular, how did Berger’s invoice get to your father? Like I said before, something just doesn’t fit. I’ll have to look at the invoice from Berger again, after all, what could he have been selling to your father? He was hardly likely to be buying antiques while he was in hiding and Berger was just as unlikely to be selling watch parts.’

  ‘Perhaps it was for a watch case he supplied.’

  ‘Maybe, but somehow I doubt it, all the other watches were ord
ered long before delivery. It took your father a long time to build a watch, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And these two invoices are close together date wise, so I doubt Berger supplied the case. In fact, I wonder if the watch ever existed, but don’t ask me what the invoice was really for though.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What if Berger was blackmailing your father and the invoice from him was really a demand for cash? I won’t know what it was supposed to be for until I look at it again, but it might have been issued by Berger to cover where the money was coming from and why.’

  ‘But why bother at all? Why not just demand cash from father?’

  ‘That depends on how many others he was threatening and how much money he was getting. He might have had to devise a way of explaining it all in his records.’

  ‘But father sent him an invoice for a watch.’

  ‘Alright, so what if there was a watch, a very expensive one like those your father made for van der Meer, and Berger demanded it as another sort of blackmail payment? He might have wanted gold rather than just money, remember what van der

  Meer said. You know what your father was like when it came to issuing paperwork to keep his records right, so he wrote one out for the watch. It’s not marked ‘paid’, of course.’

  ‘You think father may have got a demand for cash or payment in kind?’

  ‘Or both.’

  ‘It sounds a bit unlikely.’

  ‘Have I been wrong so far? One thing’s certain, Berger must have actually seen your father in late 1942, whether there was an exchange of goods or not. Even if it was just money and invoices, they must have met. It does explain everything, and have you got any better ideas?’

  ‘No, I haven’t, but Jos says he has. I don’t know what he’s got in mind this time, but you can bet it’s going to be ever so slightly illegal.’

  She laughed. ‘Luckily I’m going to be away then, although I’d hate to miss any excitement.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I don’t know what his plan is or when it’s going to happen and we still have to sort out when you’re going. I’ll speak to Grietje tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Can we speak to her together when she brings Irene down? After all I’m the one who will be going away and leaving her with a problem. I’ll check that invoice from Berger to your father when we get home to see exactly what it was for.’

  ‘Will it take us any further though? I’ve got to find him or at least figure out where he is now. But like Jos said, what am I going to say to him? What am I going to do even if I can prove he betrayed us? I’m useless, out of my depth, kidding myself.’

  ‘Do you want to stop then? Have we taken it as far as we can?’

  ‘I really don’t know, for my parents and Esther I feel I have to trace whoever did it, but it won’t change anything. I’ve lost my family and turned my back on my religion, my faith and even who I am, sometimes I’ve even tried to forget I’m a Jew.’

  ‘But for your own peace of mind?’

  ‘I’ll never be at peace, it’s always going to be there gnawing away at me, but even if I identify the culprit it won’t bring them back. It won’t blot out Auschwitz and why they died when I didn’t.’

  ‘It might help you to start rebuilding your life though, I don’t think you can start again until you know for certain or until you can go no further.’

  ‘We’ll have to wait and see what Jos can come up with. Of course, it doesn’t even have to be Berger, it might be someone we know nothing about at all and that possibility is even worse. This has taken over my life.’

  ‘I hope there’s room left for me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but when Jos said Berger was the owner of the car we’d seen at Kromme Palmstraat I was so excited, I was convinced it was him, then Jos said there was no more information. It was like a kick in the teeth.’

  She stroked his arm and kissed him on the cheek. ’You’re just tearing yourself apart, we’re going around in circles. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.’

  Wednesday 24th October 1945

  Grietje wasn’t pleased at first when they told her about Maaike’s proposed trip but when they explained that they would try to fit in with her plans and that he was only accompanying Maaike as far as either Amersfoort or Zwolle, she mellowed. She agreed to ask one of her clients for a couple of days off to go with some time she had already arranged with another client who was going to be abroad on business.

  He left it to them to finalise as he had to get to work for the brewery delivery and he also wanted to get another look through the gap in the stable doors at Kromme Palmstraat. If he was honest he was somehow hoping that Berger would be there, but of course it was a silly idea. As Jos had remarked, what was he going to say if he saw him? The last thing he wanted would be for Berger to come up behind him as he was peering through the crack in the doors.

  He had just enough time to go to the stable before work. He hurried across the busy Westerstraat and Lindengracht then through the narrow residential streets until he came to the broad Palmgracht and the short dog-leg alley that was Kromme Palmstraat.

  He was apprehensive approaching 3B, half expecting Berger to suddenly appear, but the doors to the stable were securely locked, the heavy padlock and chain barring entry to all but Berger himself. He looked each way before pressing his eye to the doors. Just sufficient light came in through the gaps for him to see the stall and the furniture and crates stored there. He had imagined he would be able to gauge if it constituted Berger’s entire stock or just excess items, but soon gave up on the idea. Nothing appeared to have changed since he last looked, four of the eight stalls were full, but it was impossible to tell what was contained in the various crates.

  Suddenly he heard a voice behind him. ‘You again. You’ve missed him, he was here yesterday in his car, he normally comes at weekends or on Tuesdays. He delivered some stuff yesterday, so I don’t expect I’ll see him for a couple of days. He often collects on a Saturday. Shall I tell him you’re looking for him?’

  He panicked and said the first thing that came into his head. ‘No, no, really, it’s alright. I’ll go to his shop and see him there. I want to surprise him, but I just keep missing him. Please don’t tell him I was asking for him, you’ll spoil the surprise, we’re old friends, you see.’

  ‘Suit yourself, I was only trying to help. Looking at him, I suppose he’s got a really posh shop up in town, Spiegelgracht probably or somewhere like that. Antiques and things?’

  ‘That’s right, and thanks for the offer.’

  The woman showed no sign of going back into her house so he smiled weakly, moved away and walked out onto Lijnbaansgracht. He ran to work, afraid of being late. Crossing Bloemgracht and Egelantiersgracht he marvelled at the colour of the trees and the carpet of the leaves now covering the ground and the still surface of the water. A heron stood motionless on a houseboat, staring down into a patch of clear water. He decided that, despite its heavy concentration of run down and in places virtually derelict houses, the Jordan was the most diverse and oddly beautiful district of the city.

  As he approached the bar he saw the dray pulling up outside and Jos, complete with his leather cellar apron, in the doorway. ‘Come on lad, you’re late.’

  ‘Sorry, I was at Kromme Palmstraat’.

  ‘What the hell for? No, tell me later, let’s get this man unloaded so he can be on his way.’

  The drayman, presumably in the hope of a free beer, was unusually helpful and the three of them made short work of the delivery and loading the empties. Refreshed with a bottle of Brand, the drayman went on his way and Simon and Jos settled down for a well-earned coffee in the cellar.

  ‘Sorry I was a bit late.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’re normally so prompt, that’s all. Well, go on, what were you doing at Kromme Palmstraat? As if I didn’t know.’

  ‘It was a bit stupid really, I suppose. I just thought Berger might be there.’

  ‘You silly yo
ung bugger, and exactly what were you going to say if he was there?’

  ‘I don’t know, I hadn’t thought it through, but I’m so sure he’s the one. Anyway, he wasn’t there so the problem didn’t arise.’

  ‘Don’t risk it again.’

  ‘The nosy woman from across the road came out. She misses nothing, in fact if Berger didn’t give us away to the Germans she’d be my next suspect. She said Berger often comes on Tuesdays or Saturdays and that he was there yesterday delivering something.’

  ‘That fits, it was Saturday afternoon when we saw him, remember? It’s also very useful for what I have in mind.’

  ‘What are you planning? Which of your ‘contacts’ can help this time?’

  ‘Wait and see, wait and see.’ He grinned. ‘Trust old Jos.’

  ‘She said she thinks he might have a shop in the city somewhere, a ‘posh’ shop, she called it.’

  ‘Do you realise how many antique and second-hand shops there are to choose from in Amsterdam? They’re all over the place, so that doesn’t help us much. Now, can you manage until Maaike arrives? I need to go out and look for someone.’

  ‘Of course.’ He looked at Jos who winked at him and finished his coffee.

  Things were very quiet most of the afternoon. Jos’s wife put her head around the door at about three, more he suspected to see if her husband was back than to check on him or to see if he needed any help.

  The regulars started to arrive at about four, taking their places on the stools at the bar.

  All the talk was about Quisling, the Norwegian collaborator Prime Minister, whose execution earlier that day had just been announced on Dutch radio. Attention naturally turned to Anton Mussert and when he was going to be executed. One regular pointed out that he had not even been tried yet, but his friends regarded that as a total inconsequence and urged the Dutch government to ‘get on with it’.

  It began to get busy at about five thirty with men stopping for a beer on the way home from work and he was pleased to see Maaike arrive at six.

  ‘I don’t know where Jos is or what he’s up to, he left me here at about eleven.’