Mendelevski's Box

by Roger Swindells

  She laughed, indicating upstairs. ‘He’ll be in for it with her when he finally gets back, I expect.’

  ‘Did you sort anything out with Grietje?’

  ‘She’s going to Utrecht a week on Monday, staying until Friday. You could take me to either Amersfoort or Zwolle on the same day and you’ll be back at work on the Tuesday, so Jos will only be missing me for the week.’

  ‘So when will you be back?’

  ‘If it’s alright with Jos and Aunt Nel, I thought I could come back on the following Monday as it’s your day off so you can meet me.’

  ‘You’ll be away for a whole week?’ He frowned and looked disappointed.

  ‘I don’t have to go, but it was your idea, remember?’

  ‘I know, and I do think it’s important that you see your family, it will soon pass I expect.’

  ‘I’ll ask Jos if it’s alright with him, if he ever gets back. Then I’ll write to Aunt Nel and ask her for a telephone number so I can make the final arrangements about who’s meeting me and where.’

  Jos arrived back after eight, slightly the worse for drink but he had been away for ten hours so neither Simon nor Maaike were surprised. ‘Hello you two, looking after my bar, I hope. I’m sorry I’ve been so long, but the man I was looking for was rather elusive and I had to visit a number of bars before I found him. But good news, he’s willing to help us. Come downstairs and I’ll tell you about my plan. Can you manage, Maaike?’

  ‘I’m fine, they know that if they want drinks at tables or upstairs they’ll have to collect it. Go on, off you go. I hope you’re going to let me in on it later, Simon.’

  Jos settled himself in his chair and opened two bottles of beer, passing one to Simon. ‘Come on, do tell me, what are you planning?’

  ‘I don’t really know how to put this. I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s a little bit illegal. No, it’s more than that, it’s totally illegal, but it’s all I can think of to try to make progress on your problem.’

  Simon was doubtful. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I think it’s clear you’re at the end of the road trying to trace Berger, but you’re convinced he’s the one you’re looking for so....’

  ‘Yes, yes, go on, spit it out.’

  ‘There’s only one thing left that we can definitely connect to him.’

  ‘The stable.’

  ‘Got it in one. That bloody stable and his stuff that’s in it.’

  ‘Continue.’

  ‘For goodness sake Simon, you’ve got to be the most innocent lad I’ve ever met.’ Jos was totally exasperated. ‘We’ve got to get in there, look at what he’s got stored. Maybe there will be something that will give us an address or lead us to him.’

  ‘Get in there? How can we possibly do that?’

  ‘We probably can’t, but I know a man who can, and we can go in with him.’

  ‘Break in, you mean?’ Simon sounded horrified. ‘I really don’t think…’

  ‘There won’t be any ‘breaking’ as you put it. My contact is a wizard with locks.’

  ‘What if Berger turns up while we’re in there?’

  ‘Thanks to your chat with the neighbour, we know the days he’s most likely to appear, so we’ll avoid those days and go early in the morning when it’s quiet. We can’t go after dark as we’d need a torch and the light might be spotted. I think the neighbour is a bigger danger than the man himself. She sounds like she’s always at the window and if she sees us she might tell him.’

  ‘How can we do it then?’

  ‘As early as possible, first light, just after dawn, and hope she’s still in bed. You don’t have to come, you know. My friend and I can go on our own. We’re just looking for an address on paperwork and how much stuff is in there.’

  ‘Your friend won’t steal anything, will he? Promise me.’

  Jos looked at him angrily. ‘What do you think he is? He’s doing you a favour as he’s a good friend of mine. Don’t insult him or me!’

  ‘I’m really sorry, this is all a bit strange to me but of course I’m coming with you. When can we do it?’

  ‘My friend is coming here on Saturday, he wants to meet you and talk to you before he agrees. He’s naturally a bit suspicious, in case you’re the police or something. I’ve vouched for you, but he wants to see you for himself.’

  ‘Policeman? Do I look like a policeman?’

  ‘No, you’re far too intelligent.’ Jos laughed and opened another bottle just as his wife appeared at the top of the cellar steps.

  ‘And where the hell have you been all day, Jos van Loon?’

  ‘Sorry my dear, important business.’ He started to giggle uncontrollably which only made his wife even angrier.

  ‘Get your arse to work in that bar and you too, Jewboy, the tables are filthy, the ashtrays are full and the crippled girl needs help.’

  Jos was still giggling as she stormed out. ‘Well that told us, come on, better do as she says. It’s alright for you and Maaike, you go home at night, I have to stay here with her.’

  Simon told Maaike all about Jos’s plan as they walked home.

  She stopped and looked hard at him. ‘I don’t like it. It’s breaking the law, you could get caught, and what’s it going to achieve?’

  ‘We won’t know until we try, there’s nothing left. I’m out of ideas, so anything is worth a try. What did Berger’s invoice to my father say?’

  ‘Strangely it was for exactly the same amount as the one from your father to him. It just said ‘goods’ and your father had written ‘paid’ on it and dated it 3rd October 1942.’

  ‘Goods? That’s ridiculous. What would my father want with ‘goods’ from an antique dealer? We were a family of Jews living in hiding in an unoccupied furnished apartment. I never saw any antique goods being delivered, in fact I never saw anything delivered. All we had was what was already in the place, the few bits of clothing and small stuff my parents brought from Dijkstraat plus the supplies Gerrit brought in to us. I’m even more sure now that Berger is the one and that you were right about the invoices being just to cover money, and possibly a watch, that Berger was blackmailing out of my family under threat of exposing us.’

  ‘If your father had given in and was paying, why would Berger tell the Germans?’

  ‘I don’t know, perhaps father said ‘no more’ and stopped paying.’

  ‘Is it worth breaking into the stable though? You may not find out anything.’

  ‘But we just might and there’s nowhere else left to go.’

  She reluctantly agreed. ‘Be careful that’s all, I’m not visiting you in prison.’ She smiled and lifted her face to kiss him. ‘When will it be?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, I think we’re arranging it on Saturday.’

  ‘Just make sure it’s done before I go to Friesland, I need to know you’re safe before I leave.’

  They walked slowly back to Slootstraat. In his mind, the immorality of what Jos had suggested they should do was fighting with his determination to find Berger and somehow prove his guilt.

  They kissed goodnight on the step outside. She pressed herself against him and his hand moved onto her breasts.

  Saturday 27th October 1945

  Jos hadn’t said what time his padlock expert was coming to see him. Friday evening had been very busy, and Jos had kept the bar open until one in the morning. He and Maaike had been very late home but he was up early as usual to go to the market. As Grietje was working and Maaike was looking after Irene, he went shopping for them both. Grietje had now agreed to let him pay for the shopping as part of his financial contribution but Maaike still insisted on being independent and paying her own way. He decided to try to slip in some extra items for her as she was feeding him lunch on most days.

  He was frustrated that he’d not been able to make any progress for two days. He and Maaike had spent Thursday morning together. She had written to her aunt, giving her the dates for her visit and asking for the telephone number of a neighbour. Jos had agreed
that if it could be arranged, she could use his telephone upstairs in the bar. He had started to sort through his father’s correspondence again in the hope of finding any letters or notes that might yield more clues, especially to Berger, but there were so many that by lunchtime he had barely scratched the surface. After lunch he had visited the dentist for what he was told would have to be the first of many visits to sort out his neglected teeth.

  He’d received a letter on Friday, his first ever mail other than birthday cards as a boy. It was a reply from his father’s insurance company in The Hague. He had sent details and the numbers of all four policies but now they were asking for death certificates for his parents and Esther and they also pointed out that no premiums had been paid since May 1942. He decided to ask Jos or, when they replied, the Jewish Co-ordinating Committee for advice, but it looked like the insurers were not going to pay. He recalled that another survivor he had met at the Red Cross office had told him that the Germans had confiscated money held by insurance companies on policies taken out by Jews as well as Jewish money in the banks.

  He was becoming quite proficient at shopping and a number of the regular women at the market were starting to recognise him. He finished the shopping by nine thirty and delivered Maaike’s to her. She was playing with Irene, but he could see she was tired after their late shift the previous evening. He dropped off the items for him and Grietje and was at work by ten thirty.

  Jos was cleaning up in the bar, having left that task the previous evening. ‘Good morning, bright and early. That’s good, give me a hand with these empties and finish mopping the floor, why the buggers don’t use the ashtrays I don’t know and sometimes I think they spill more beer than they pour down their throats. I’ll catch up on washing glasses and restocking. How are you?’

  ‘I’m tired, last night was a late one and I had shopping duties this morning. Maaike’s shattered and she’s got Grietje’s daughter to look after as well.’

  ‘Sorry lad, but the business is still getting back on its feet, if they want to drink I’d be a bloody fool not to sell to them, wouldn’t I? Anyway, there’s overtime in it for both of you.’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about money, Jos.’

  ‘I hope you don’t want a pay rise.’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. I’ve still got money downstairs and you pay me a good rate but I want to get my own place and set myself up properly. I thought the life insurance policies we found in the box would bring in some more money but it looks like the insurers are not going to pay out. Look at their letter.’

  Jos studied the letter carefully. ‘It looks to me like you’ve had it, Simon. They’ve got you all ways, how can you possibly get death certificates and you can’t get around the fact that the premiums weren’t paid. I’ll ask someone who knows more than me if you want, but I think that’s it. You can write back and point out where they died and when you were all taken but you’ll need a lawyer, I reckon. Your friend van der Meer maybe, he sounds like a clever devil,’ he joked. ‘Seriously, I bet there are going to be hundreds of people, many of them Jews who survived the camps or came out of hiding, in exactly the same situation as you. In fairness to the insurance people, if the Nazis took the money the insurers are powerless too, it’s all going to take years to sort out.’

  ‘I suppose the same applies to our house?’

  ‘I’m afraid it might, but you want to be careful there. I’m sure the city council is going to try to screw returning residents for unpaid rents, taxes and city rates. Are you sure your father owned it outright? You should check the paperwork carefully.’

  ‘It’s starting to look like those of us who survived are not going to get any sympathy or help to get our property back, or any money that is due to us.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re right, and don’t forget all the money and deeds and valuables that were declared and paid into that Nazi run bank. Thank goodness your father didn’t follow the instructions and hid that stuff in his box instead.’

  ‘That’s the other thing I need to do. Can you speak to someone about selling the gold for me, all the coins and the watch cases? I’ll just keep father’s tools, stamps and David Meijer’s watch.’

  ‘I will if you want, if you trust me, that is. I’ll need to find out the current gold price and then calculate the weight. I know someone who knows someone who buys gold. We might have to weigh a coin of each size.’

  ‘Of course I trust you, you’ve been so good to me, I couldn’t have done anything without your help and contacts. You’ve been like a father, I suppose.’

  ‘Father indeed! You cheeky young bugger! Seriously speaking I’m quite touched, it’s a nice thing for you to say. Why are you in a hurry to turn all the gold into money? You’ve still got a lot of money in notes.’

  ‘I can’t carry bags of gold coins around, can I? Opening a bank account is difficult and going on what you said they’re not going to make it easy for us Jews to sort that out either. Besides, I have plans, well, dreams really. I’m not sure I want to stay in Amsterdam or even the Netherlands for the rest of my life. I need to broaden my horizons; my life so far has been the Jodenbuurt and Auschwitz.’

  ‘What have you got in mind? Where are you hoping to go?’

  ‘I’ve no idea yet but not a word to Maaike, please. Promise me.’

  ‘Of course, but don’t hurt her or you’ll have me to deal with, I feel like her father too, you know.’

  He nodded. ‘I know and I thank you for it. I’ll never let her down Jos, she’s part of my plan, if she wants to be. I think I love her.’

  ‘Bloody hell lad, that’s a bold statement and very dangerous. I told her upstairs I loved her once, now look at me. Come on, get that door open and let them in. I’ll make coffee.’

  ‘Before I do that, when is he coming, the padlock man?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it will be when it’s quiet, maybe very early this evening. Now get the bloody door open and earn those wages.’

  All the talk at the bar was of another Nazi who had cheated the executioner. News had come through that Robert Ley had committed suicide two days earlier, ahead of the big trial in Nuremberg. Simon had never heard of him and didn’t know if he had had anything to do with the camps. The attitude of most of the regulars was that he had saved the Allies a bullet or a rope by doing the job himself, but some thought he should have stood trial.

  Daft Willem had a rather radical view. ‘If they don’t get on with it, the rate they’re doing themselves in, there’ll be nobody left to execute soon. I wrote to the Queen and volunteered to do it, you know.’

  Hendrik was much more interested in matters closer to home. ‘So long as that bastard Mussert doesn’t do away with himself before the firing squad get to him.’

  Lunchtime was hectic as usual on a Saturday and many of the female customers who called in for a drink and to rest their arms from carrying shopping recognised him from the market.

  ‘They like you Simon, good-looking young lad behind the bar. Some of these old girls will stay for an extra bessen just to chat with you, isn’t that right, Liese?’

  Liese, a fat middle-aged woman with a hairy top lip who was smoking a pipe, looked him up and down. ‘He’s a bit scrawny but I’ll have him if Grietje Blok doesn’t want him.’

  Jos turned to him and winked. ‘Maaike might have something to say about that, eh Simon?’

  He felt himself blushing and made an excuse to go outside to collect glasses.

  Jos’s wife came down at about one and the three of them worked hard all afternoon. She sat on Maaike’s stool serving beers to those lining the bar, Jos took trays to those upstairs and outside while Simon washed glasses, emptied ashtrays and brought up crates.

  By four thirty many of the lunchtime and afternoon customers had left and Jos’s wife made a swift escape upstairs, leaving just him and Jos to manage until Maaike arrived at six.

  Soon afterwards a small man of about fifty with heavily tattooed hands and neck came in and spoke to
Jos. They came over to the bar together and sat on two of the vacant stools.

  ‘Simon, this is a friend of mine, you can just call him Piet.’

  To Piet he said, ‘This is Simon, he’s the one with the problem you might be able to help with.’

  Simon held out his hand, but the man ignored him and just nodded in his direction. ‘Pour him a beer, please. We can’t talk here, too many ears. I’ll take Piet downstairs and give him the details and you can join us when Maaike arrives.’

  Maaike was early so he was able to join them in the cellar after only a few minutes. They were sitting in Jos’s ‘hideaway’ corner and he noticed Jos had given Piet the chair while he perched on a beer crate.

  ‘I’ve told Piet the details and the address, 3B, wasn’t it? Green double stable doors. I’ve also told him the man often visits on Saturdays and Tuesdays and that there’s a nosey neighbour. He wants to have a look at the place tonight and he suggests we do it as early as possible, at first light on a Sunday preferably as the woman will hopefully still be in bed.’

  Piet sat in total silence, letting Jos do all the talking.

  ‘I have explained that you want to go and look at whatever is stored there. He’s not happy, but he understands your reasons, so he has agreed you can be there. I’ll be the lookout in the street. We leave when he says we leave, we disturb nothing and only look in crates or boxes that are already open. Agreed? If you don’t agree we don’t go, and Piet here has another beer and leaves.’

  ‘Of course, whatever Piet wants. I’m really very grateful you’re doing this for me, thank you.’

  Piet spoke at last in a heavy accent he didn’t recognise. ‘I’m doing it for Jos as he’s a friend and he tells me you’ve had a shit time so if I can help to identity whoever betrayed you, I will.’ A smile crossed his normally serious face. ‘It will be the first time that I’ve opened a lock and gone in somewhere without actually taking anything.’

  The two men stood up. Simon offered his hand but once again it was ignored. Piet finished his beer and he and Jos went up into the bar and out into the street.