Once in a while Katja would catch her mother studying her with an odd and serious expression. It was a puzzling gaze that Katja found unreadable. She had never questioned her mother about it because she could not explain what she thought she saw, not in concrete terms anyway. It was more of a feeling, something akin to intuition. But still Katja had no idea of the meaning behind the stare.
Many happy years had passed for Katja on this subsistence farm in Israel, enough time to blur the darkness of the past. She’d danced at Shana’s wedding, and cried tears of joy as Mendel read his haftorah portion in Hebrew on the day of his bar mitzvah. She’d set the broken wing of a bird with Rachel’s assistance, and together they’d cared for the animal until it was ready to fly away. Katja could still remember how both she and Rachel had been sad and happy at the same time as they watched the brightly colored bird take flight. They had stood beneath the tree and watched until the bird became nothing more than a spot in the sky. Then they had looked at each other, knowing that they would never see their feathered friend again but also assured that what they had done was right. The time had come for him to fly away.
With all of the different survivors that had migrated to Israel, Katja had the opportunity to continue speaking all of the languages she’d learned. Her body grew strong and got sustenance from the warm sun, the healthy fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as the joy in the song and dance of her people. Most of all, living in Israel on a kibbutz had given her pride in this wonderful nation that was born from the blood of the Chosen People All of this had miraculously erased every dark memory of the early years of Katja’s life, those years when she’d lived as the golden child, bred as a perfect Aryan by the Nazis.
Of course, she could not remember her birth in the home for the Lebensborn, or that she had been created by a racially pure German woman and an SS officer. And how could Katja know that as an infant she had been one of the chosen ones because she had been christened by Himmler himself, given her name, and declared the pride of Hitler’s future Germany. Then, still too young to have any recollection, at just one year old Katja had been presented by Heinrick Himmler as a gift to a childless Nazi couple; Katja’s new parents had been the feared SS officer Manfred Blau and his ailing wife, Christa. And of course, she could not know that a year later, Manfred’s job had been moved to Treblinka concentration camp. He had brought his family, including Katja, with him to live in the house that stood beside the barbed wire of the camp.
For two years, Christa’s illness had been getting worse. So when they’d arrived at Treblinka Manfred had decided that they needed a nanny to care for their child. He had gone out to the camp and to search amongst the prisoners, the poor souls who the Nazis had marked for death. And . . . it was there that he made the fateful decision that would change Katja’s life forever.
Manfred Blau, had chosen Zofia. He had forced her out of a line of prisoners and had ordered her be brought to his house. Zofia, a Jew, an inferior taken from the barracks of Treblinka, had come to be Manfred’s house slave. She’d loved tiny Katja from the first moment she had held the baby in her arms. In fact, for Zofia, Katja had been a godsend. Zofia missed her daughter Eidel, terribly, and so she loved and cared for Kataj as if she had been her own child.
Then, following Manfred’s trial, Christa had given Katja into Zofia’s care because she had known she was dying. But even then, Katja had been only six, very nearly seven years old, and so, it seemed to Zofia that much of what had happened in those early years had faded into a distant memory for Katja. Sometimes Zofia wondered if Katja remembered anything at all about the months she and Katja had spent in England before boarding Exodus, but since the child never mentioned anything, Zofia assumed that she’d forgotten.
Many times Zofia felt guilty, as if she owed Katja an honest synopsis of her early life, but the need to tell Katja was overshadowed y the suffering Zofia knew that the truth would cause her daughter. Growing up as Katja did, Zofia realized that Katja would be shocked and horrified to know that she was not really born Jewish, but born to the worst of all people, to Nazis. So, Zofia swallowed her guilt, closed her eyes to the truth, and remained silent. Zofia watched as Katja grew up. Katja laughed, played, studied, and lived with her cherished Jewish friends. She carried her father’s name, Katja Zuckerman, and around her neck she wore a gold mezuzah with a tiny Hebrew prayer written on parchment inside. This mezuzah was her most cherished possession. It was a gift that her parents had given her when she turned thirteen.
Chapter 55
On the morning before the soldiers of the IDF were to return to their posts, Mendel got up very early and walked alone for several hours. He was debating with himself, he wanted to tell Katja how he felt about her, but he could not find the words. If he told her that he thought he was in love with her, it might make her uncomfortable and it could ruin the beautiful friendship they had, and she was still so young. There was no doubt in his mind that their friendship was a true gift from God, and he cherished that gift. But Mendel wanted more. In fact, he had wanted more from Katja for many years. He’d always had a soft spot in his heart for her. But he’d been too shy to ever tell her how he felt.
But now, they were old enough to have a serious relationship. And Mendel wanted that with Katja. In fact, after they had both served their time in the army, he wanted to marry Katja and have a family of their own. He’d never had a family, not one he could remember, and he longed for a wife and children. Someone in this world he could call his own. But he had no idea how to approach the subject, and what the consequences would be. It could either be wonderful, the most wonderful moment of his life . . . or it could be hell. He could lose everything, everything he held dear.
When Katja came out of her room that morning to go to the main dining area, she saw Mendel waiting for her, leaning against a tree. She rushed over to him. Knowing it was his last day, she brought out a nicely wrapped package with a scarf she’d knitted for him. It was thick brown and beige wool. Those were good colors for Mendel.
“I made this for you, for the winter.” She smiled and handed him the gift.
He smiled and took it. “Thank you, it’s really nice.” He rubbed the wool through his fingers absentmindedly.
“Don’t you like it?” she asked.
“Of course I do.” He smiled at her.
“Well then, try it on.” She put the scarf around his neck. As she did their eyes locked. He wanted to tell her, yearned to tell her, but he could not speak the words. Mendel wanted to pull her close to him, to kiss her, and for a moment, just a single instant, he almost did. Then Rachel and Elan came walking up the walkway.
“You ready to head out?” Rachel asked Mendel.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Mendel said, the courage he had felt just a moment earlier . . . gone.
Katja reached up and planted a kiss on Mendel’s cheek. “Be safe,” she whispered.
Then Katja hugged Rachel, “Be safe.”
“I will,” Rachel said.
“Goodbye, Elan; it was nice meeting you.”
“You’re not going to wish me to be safe?” Elan asked, with an expression of mock hurt.
“Of course I am. Be safe, Elan.”
“I will, and I will be back to visit this lovely kibbutz very soon,” he said with a crooked smile.
Damn, Katja thought. He certainly is handsome. Katja watched as the army truck pulled away. School would start tomorrow, and so it was time to go back to her daily life.
Chapter 56
Manfred had settled into the small cottage that Konrad had rented for him and had just begun working at a factory where Konrad had placed him when he received a wire from Konrad.
The boy who delivered the message waited until Manfred tipped him, and then he left.
Manfred took a deep breath; perhaps this letter contained information about Katja. Did he want to know, did he really want to find her? He tore the envelope open and sat down to read the contents.
“I will co
me to your home this Friday evening. Please do not invite anyone else as this is an important, top secret meeting that will take place just between the two of us. I look forward to seeing you then. Konrad.”
Manfred wondered what Konrad had to tell him. He reread the note several times. What could be top secret? Perhaps he’d found Katja, and was unable to disclose her whereabouts in a wire. Or it could have something to do with the Nazi hunters that Konrad had told him about. Perhaps it was a job change—that would be something he would relish. However, there was no telling what top secret information Konrad was about to deliver. Manfred would just have to wait until Friday night.
Manfred hated his job. He was not physically strong and had never done menial labor. All day long he worked on an assembly line and his feet and back were aching while he waited for the clock to say he could punch his card and leave. Manfred found the work degrading. After all, he was an artist. The men he worked with spoke Spanish, laughing and carrying on with each other, leaving him feeling alone and alienated.
The week passed slowly, but finally Friday arrived. Manfred was glad to have the company, but a little worried about what Konrad had to tell him.
It was early evening when Konrad arrived. He came to Manfred’s door carrying a package filled with food and a bottle of schnapps.
“Come in, Konrad, Manfred said. The last time they had seen each other they’d agreed to be on a first name basis.
Once inside with the door closed, Konrad saluted. “Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler. It’s good to see you. How have you been?” Manfred asked.
“I’m doing well, thank you, and you?”
“I’m doing well. But I was wondering if you’d found another position for me,” Manfred said.
“I brought some food for dinner.” Konrad placed the package of food on the table. “A new position is what I’ve come to discuss, but first let’s have something to eat.”
Manfred nodded in agreement.
“The place looks wonderful,” Konrad said, indicating the cottage.
“I had the maid come this morning to ensure everything would be in order when you arrived.”
“I do appreciate the gesture,” Konrad said.
They sat down to dinner. The entire time Konrad only made small talk. Talk of the weather, talk of the food, but nothing of what had brought him to see Manfred.
After they finished, Manfred opened the schnapps and poured them each a glass.
As they settled into the wicker sofa, Konrad turned to Manfred.
“To the Reich,” he said and lifted his glass.
Manfred clinked glasses, “To the Reich.”
“Manfred,” Konrad said, and he cleared his throat.
“Yes . . .”
“I’ve come to see you, because you’ve been chosen for a very special mission,” Konrad said, taking a swig of his schnapps. “Let me explain. As you know, this is all top secret. I will begin at the beginning. When our Führer went down into the underground bunker with Goebbels and his family and his new wife Eva Braun, there was already a top secret plan in place. This was a plan that was known only to ODESSA. The rest of us were unaware of what was taking place. Hitler felt it best to keep it as secret as possible. What was planned was this: everyone except the Führer was to commit suicide in the underground bunker. Then ODESSA would bring a body double for Hitler and leave it there with the others. Then, to make it even more difficult to identify the bodies, ODESSA planned to start a fire. Then they would take our Führer, safe and alive, but presumed dead by the world, to Argentina.
This would have been all well and good except there were Jewish militant forces at work. They had spies that had infiltrated ODESSA, and these sneaky Jews knew the plot. When the ODESSA agents were on their way to the bunker, the Jews laid in wait and attacked them. They killed all of the agents and then dressed in their clothing. When these Jews posing as ODESSA arrived, Hitler was waiting. They told him that the body double would be placed in the bunker and the fire started once Hitler was safely far away from Germany. Our Führer was then taken to a plane that he believed was waiting to take him to safety in South America. Instead, once the aircraft was in the air, Hitler found that he had been captured and was on his way to Holland.
As we speak, our leader, the most important man to the rebirth of our Reich, Adolf Hitler, is being held and tortured. Now it is our turn. We must infiltrate this group of Jews in order to rescue Adolf Hitler. Manfred, we need your help to carry out this mission. It won’t be easy and it is no doubt, very dangerous. But it must be done. Are you willing to go to these measures to save our leader and rebuild our Reich?”
“Why me?”
“You are not the only one. There are several others. But it is an honor, Manfred Blau . . . an honor to be chosen as one of the men who will be instrumental in the resurrection of the Third Reich.”
“But won’t they recognize me?” Manfred was nervous. He didn’t want any part of anything having to do with Jews. The nightmares came flooding back to him as he listened to the rest of the plan.
“No, nobody will recognize you. Dr. Mengele will reconstruct your face; no one will know who you are except us. And to insure that you do not lose your identity in the party, photographs will be taken before and after the surgery. We will keep those records so that your Nazi brothers will know you.”
Manfred scratched his chin. This was some news, and quite the request. “You mean to tell me they’ve had him for almost fifteen years? Where?”
“In a secret prison in Israel. Once Israel became a nation, they took him from Holland and brought him there. Some of our highest men in ODESSA had heard rumors, but these things had to be checked out before we began a rescue mission. In fact, we are still unsure, and that is why we are sending you.”
“Again? Why me?”
“You would dare to ask? This is an important opportunity to show your loyalty.”
Again, loyalty. Manfred took a deep breath. Would he ever be truly forgiven for what his father-in-law had done? Would he spend the rest of his life proving his devotion to the party? “Of course, I will do it. By the way . . .”
“Yes, go on?” Konrad asked.
“Was Dr. Gobbels really dead?”
“Hard to say. We believe he was, but we cannot be sure. You will be the one to clarify everything.”
“Me alone?”
“No. Two others will accompany you. You will pose as Jews; you will be attempting to join Mossad.”
“The Israeli secret service?”
“Yes, the militant groups I mentioned earlier are now a part of Mossad.”
“Why would they allow us to join? Aren’t they a very difficult organization to infiltrate?”
“Yes, you are right, they are. But I will brief you with a story. You will be a survivor from a concentration camp with a mission to find and destroy Nazis.”
“But how will I have knowledge of their operations in Israel?”
“You won’t. You will pretend not to know anything about the imprisonment of our Führer. Your story will be that you were trying to go to work for that famous Nazi hunter in Austria, but when you arrived at his office you discovered that his office had been closed. So you came to Mossad to carry out your mission, which you feel is your life’s purpose.”
“ISRAEL?” Manfred coughed. “BUT, I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT YOU WANT ME TO GO TO ISRAEL?”
“Yes, of course. Where else would these Jews take our Fürher to punish him? And perhaps even Dr. Goebbels. Even though Goebbels and his family’s bodies were found, they could have been body doubles.”
“Then why not Hitler, too? Why would they not have left a body double for Hitler?”
“That’s what we need you to find out,” Konrad said.
Manfred nodded. He didn’t want this job. The last thing he wanted was to have the face of a Jew and to live among them. The thought sickened him. It reminded him of that Jewess, Zofia, and how close she had been to his wife and daughter. Then, of
course, there were always those terrible recurring nightmares of Christa and Katja. He shivered slightly.
“Are you all right?” Konrad asked, pouring himself another glass of schnapps.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Then you will do it?”
“Of course; I would do anything for the Reich.”
Konrad poured another glass and handed it to Manfred.
“I knew that you would. Heil Hitler,” Konrad said.
“Heil Hitler,” Manfred answered. They raised their glasses, and Manfred felt sweat under his arms. His mind was drifting to those terrifying dreams.
“I have only one request . . .” Manfred said.
“Go on.”
“I will wear any disguise that you want me to wear, but I cannot bear to have my face redone as a Jew. I could not bear to look in the mirror and live with a face that repulsed me. If you are willing to allow me to wear a disguise and not have a permanent reconstruction, I will be honored to do anything you ask of me.”
“I understand. And we will honor your wishes,” Konrad said, thinking that it would be easier this way. No need to involve Josef until it was absolutely necessary.
Chapter 57
Katja’s concerns about serving in the IDF had proved unwarranted. In fact, she loved being in the army. It was wonderful to be an adult, away from home, yet still surrounded by young people who shared her love for Israel. She was stationed in Tel Aviv, a newly developing city. Katja had never seen so many people and all of them busy running here and there. The University of Tel Aviv had opened only a few years prior and already it was becoming a respected place to study, with lots of students from other countries in attendance. Katja lived in the barracks with over fifty girls her own age. They talked about everything from boyfriends to how to clean a gun.
The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3) Page 21
