If only…Luludji thought as she approached the surgical ward. If only I had been courageous enough to steal sulfa for my Hadji two weeks ago, he might still be alive. There was no time to think of that now. She tucked away her self-condemnation and entered Suite D, a smile on her face, determination in her heart. Never again, she vowed.
Luludji set down her load of supplies on the table next to two boys who sat side by side on one of the suite’s two gurneys, then opened the door connecting Suites D and E. The twins in E also shared a gurney. The four boys in the two connecting suites looked at her expectantly.
She smiled. “Dobré ráno, chlapci,” she said, “Good morning, boys,” in Slovak, then in German, “Guten Morgen, Jungen.”
Luludji wondered which language they favored.
“Dobré ráno, madam,” all four boys replied in unison, obviously pleased to be spoken to in the language they understood best.
So, she thought: Slovakian. Good. Now for their names: “Aké sú vaše mená?” she asked of the boys in Suite D.
The boy on the left, sitting taller than his obviously ill and slumping brother, said, “Nicu Jansen,” then bumped his twin with his shoulder. Both Jansens were thin and emaciated, Nicu’s brother much more so.
“Punka,” Nicu’s brother managed. “Punka Jansen.”
She nodded at the boys in Suite E.
“Tobar Teikin,” the one on the right said. Then looking to his shrunken twin, whom he held upright by an arm clasped round his shoulder, “a Yanko.”
“Nicu, Punka, Tobar and Yanko.” She patted each boy on his head as she repeated his name. “I am Luludji Krietzman. Like you, I am Romani.”
Even Punka and Yanko, the two very ill boys, perked up at that announcement. She continued. “I am here to save your lives. I know that I will succeed. Do you know how I know that?”
She had their complete attention. She slowly removed the crystal ball from the right pocket of her tunic and held it out towards them. “Because I am Magie Sehar Lulu, and Magic Seer Lulu sees all.”
The boys’ eyes grew very large.
“But that must be our secret, dear ones. Because secrets are magic!” The boys sat up straight and nodded their solemn agreement.
Tobar Teikin affirmed, “It will be our secret, Magie Sehar Lulu!”
Then they all laughed, probably for the first time since they arrived, perhaps for the first time since they were interned at the Lety by Pisek and Hodonin camps in the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia.
Luludji Krietzman held a mock-scolding finger to her lips to shush them, then winked and tucked the crystal ball back in her pocket.
“What is all this joviality?” Dr. Mengele said, entering Suite D, the smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes.
Luludji said, “We are all so happy that you are going to make Punka and Yanko feel better, Herr Doktor, and keep Nicu and Tobar healthy as well.”
“Then we must begin immediately,” Mengele replied, rubbing his hands in anticipation. He looked at the boys, then back at Luludji. “But you have not prepared their catheters, Frau Krietzman.”
“I will do so immediately, Herr Doktor.” She slapped her forehead and swore at herself, “Dummkopf!”
She continued, “I am terribly sorry, Herr Doktor, but I do not have all the supplies I need. I forgot the alcohol and the syringes. And the sulfa.”
“Sulfa, Frau Krietzman?”
“Yes, doctor. For the typhus? You will be wanting to administer the medication to Punka and Yanko, along with their transfusions.”
“Yes, yes. We will do that later, after the blood work and testing, Frau Krietzman. Just get the antiseptic from the pharmacy locker and return here immediately…oh, never mind. I will do it myself.”
“No, no, Herr Doktor. Your time is much too valuable to spend it doing my job. I will get what is needed and prepare the catheters right away. The boys will be ready for you in ten minutes. Perhaps you would like to look in on some of your other experi…some of your other patients while I make ready the twins?”
“Very well, Frau Krietzman. Do so as quickly as possible.” He went out of the suite, allowing the door to slam slightly.
“We must be very fast,” Luludji told the boys. “I need to give each of you a shot, then I need to insert a small tube into your neck so the doctor can give you good, fresh blood to make you better. Lay back on these little beds please. Tobar and Nicu, please help your brothers lay down, then take the other bed for yourself. All of you on your stomachs, please. And hurry.”
She removed the bottle of alcohol and soaked a pad of cotton and wiped a patch on each brother’s left buttock, swiped the syringe with a fresh alcohol-soaked cotton pad, and inserted its tip through the rubber cap on the bottle of sulfa. She pulled back the plunger to the 8cc mark, then replaced the bottle in her pocket.
She administered 3cc of the elixir to Punka Jansen and another 3cc to Yanko Teikin, the two boys with the typhus. She gave the healthier half of each pair of twins, Nicu Jansen and Tobar Teikin, only one cc each. She prayed that would be enough to inoculate them against their brothers’ sickness. She used the same syringe on all four boys, pausing only to clean its tip between injections. Then she slid the syringe back in its sheath and returned it to her pocket.
“What I have just done must be our secret, my boys. This is a magic elixir that will help to heal you. The doctor does not believe in it and would not permit me to use it. So do not tell him, or anyone else, or we all will die.”
The boys nodded their understanding.
“Now please roll over on your backs.”
“Lay still, Nicu, while I put this little thing in your neck. It will hurt a little, but only for a moment.” The boy winced as she slid the catheter into the jugular vein. She’d already attached a short length of tubing and valve to the outer end of the catheter. As soon as the catheter was in place and she saw the tube fill with blood, she taped the catheter to Nicu’s neck.
“Very good. You’re a brave young man, Nicu. You next, Punka.”
Insertion proceeded just as swiftly and flawlessly with Punka, and even more quickly with the Teikin twins. None of the boys made a sound.
“Now you know why they call me Magie Sehar Lulu,” she said, and removed the crystal ball from her right pocket. “I saw that you would be cured, and now we have completed the first step in...”
“The first step in what, Frau Krietzman?”
Luludji started. She had not heard the doctor enter the rooms. She turned around and faced him, the crystal ball still in her hand.
“Was ist das?” the doctor said. “Are you a witch as well as my assistant?”
“Oh! No, Herr Doktor. No witch, just a seer of good fortune for us all.”
“And where did you get this?” the doctor asked, extending his hand until Luludji reluctantly handed over the ball. He held it up to the light and observed the refracted image of the overhead bulb. “It is really quite beautiful, how the light dances. Where did you find it?”
“It was a gift from my mother, Herr Doktor. She was a famous seer in Hamburg. Before, it was her mother’s.”
“So you tell fortunes too, Frau Krietzman?” He looked amused. “Tell me, what do you see happening with these patients.”
“I see a full recovery for Punka and Yanko and a long healthy life for all four boys once this war ends and life returns to normal,” she said, no hint of dissimulation in her voice.
“Really. How fascinating. You are correct, of course. Everyone at Birkenau receives only the finest medical care and contributes to the general welfare of the Reich as well. But pray tell, Frau Krietzman, how do you see this war ending? Who will end up on top when life returns to normal, as you say?”
“Why us, of course. All of us who keep the faith in terrible times.”
“You speak of der Fuhrer and the Greater Reich and our warriors and citizens who have given so much?”
“Of course, Herr Doktor. Who else could I mean?”
&nb
sp; “Let us hope for the sake of humanity that you are correct.”
“My visions are never wrong, Herr Doktor.”
“You see those visions in this ball, do you? Most intriguing. One day you must tell me how that works. Do you just hold it up to the light and see images like Telefunken’s Lichtenstein radar, or do you sit at a table and stare into it? No, I suppose that you would have it on a table in front of you. But would it not normally be on some kind of stand, to keep it from rolling away?”
“Yes. I have a copper foundation for it. In the barracks, with my things. It was made for me by my father, who was the finest artist in copper in all of Hamburg.”
“I would like to see that. Bring it with you tomorrow. The crystal ball on its copper base will look very nice on my desk. I am sure my colleagues will be most impressed.”
“I….”
The doctor tossed the ball into the pan on the bedside table.
Luludji hung her head, then raised it slowly and met his eyes. “Certainly, Herr Doktor. I will bring the base tomorrow.”
“Excellent. Now, shall we begin our work here with these fortunate boys?”
Luludji tried to regain her focus, for the sake of the boys, but could hardly believe she had lost her mother’s crystal ball to this monster who destroyed lives—and had also promised him the copper base from her father—her most treasured possessions, the last symbols of her heritage, gone now. Could she live without those totems of normalcy? She had sold her soul, and for what?
Then, through her despair, she saw the answer: the crystal ball was the fee for being able to help these boys. Her ball in exchange for Nicu, Punka, Tobar and Yanko’s lives. She would see that they survived the doctor’s latest experiment, with God’s help. But losing her mother’s crystal ball to Mengele was a terrible sacrifice, and tonight she would also utter a seer’s curse upon her mother’s crystal ball—more specifically, upon Herr Doktor for stealing it. Her God would not fail to affix a curse to her crystal ball until the ball was once more in Romani hands.
She watched Doctor Mengele approach Yanko, the sickly Teikin twin, all business now that he was sure that he had humiliated his superstitious, non-scientifically trained assistant. Mengele plugged a line into an empty bottle, connected the line to the valve in the boy’s neck and opened the valve.
“What is your name?” the doctor asked in German: “Wie heißt du?”
Luludji saw Yanko’s terror as he watched his blood flow out of his neck. Perhaps he could feel the blood rushing away from him. She moved to Yanko’s side, opposite the doctor, held his hand, murmured.
“Is okay, Yanko. The doctor needs some of your blood to test, to count and kill the germs of the typhus. He will put back fresh blood later and you will feel much stronger.”
The doctor looked up and granted a smile to his assistant.
Yanko nodded, but only slightly, as he felt the catheter poke the inside of his vein. “Ow!”
“Lay still, Yanko. Soon this will be finished,” Luludji said.
“Danka, Magie Sehar Lulu,” the boy said to Luludji. Then to the doctor. “Danka, Herr Doktor.”
Mengele said, “Good. You did well, Yanko.” He patted the boy’s head then turned to Luludji.
“And now the other infected twin, I think. His name, Frau Krietzman?”
“Punka. Punka Jansen.”
“Punka,” the doctor said. “Be very still, Punka, and this will take only a little while. You heard what Frau Krietzman told Yanko. Soon both of you will be better.” The doctor hooked up Punka’s bottle quickly, then moved to Punka’s twin and did the same. Then to the final twin, Nicu, the Jansen twin who displayed no symptoms of typhus.
Brushing his hands together in a gesture of satisfaction, the doctor issued his instructions. “Frau Krietzman, you will label each bottle with the donor’s name, please. Be certain you are accurate. When all four bottles have filled, come to my office and get me and we will proceed. I shall be reviewing correspondence.”
He picked up Luludji’s crystal ball. “Also, I will be glimpsing the glorious future of der Fatherland.”
He walked out the door with a chuckle, tossing the ball from hand to hand like a juggler who wished he had more balls to play with. Luludji heard him humming a Strauss melody as he strolled, half dancing, down the corridor.
She found four glue-on labels and inscribed the boy’s names. She would label the bottles exactly the opposite of what Herr Doktor ordered.
She wrote Nicu’s name on Punka’s bottle, and Tobar’s name on Yanko’s. She would make sure that the healthy blood went back into the healthy twin, the sick blood back into the sick twin. There would be no spreading of the typhus.
When the bottles were full, she retrieved Mengele from his office, where he was blowing cigar smoke at her crystal ball, now serving as a paperweight in his in-basket.
They returned to Suites D and E. Herr Doktor was eager to proceed.
After making a great show of extracting a test tube of blood from each bottle for analysis under the microscope and then carefully labeling each tube with the donor’s name, Mengele performed the transfusions. Luludji watched as the bottles of blood from each of the sick twins, Punka Jansen and Yanko Teikin, were transfused by Mengele right back into Punka and Yanko, despite the doctor’s belief he was doing the opposite. Luludji’s analysis of Mengele’s intent had been correct, and thanks to her mislabeling of the bottles, the healthier twin in each pair, Nicu Jansen and Tobar Teikin also each received a transfusion of his own blood.
She doubted that Mengele would ever realize he had been foiled. He might wonder why this particular experiment did not work as he had expected and why all four boys recovered, rather than dying at varying rates he projected. But he would simply attribute it to all the unknowns that were so fascinating in the lesser races.
Perhaps…a smile spread across Luludji’s face….perhaps der Weisse Engle would even attribute the twins’ miraculous survival to Luludji’s crystal ball.
She chuckled at the thought. “That would be the truth, Herr Doktor, and how will you explain that in your report?”
17
Yoko followed Zoran upstairs. When they entered Marco Fellini’s office, Yoko was struck by the brightness of the room. Light flooded in from banks of tall, narrow windows on two walls of the room, a large, high-ceilinged space that occupied most of the building’s second floor. The windows on the north and east walls had their blinds raised to admit maximum natural light. How fortunate none of the windows would admit direct sunlight, except perhaps for an hour or so, during mid-summer sunsets. Direct sunlight certainly would damage the finish and fabrics on the fine antique furniture so artfully grouped about the room.
Marco’s assistants, Iona Duncan and Jessica Ware, rose simultaneously from chairs behind mahogany desks that sat at right angles to the north wall and faced the doorway Yoko and Zoran had just passed through.
“Hello, may I help you?” Iona said. She looked nervous.
“I assume you are the detectives who want to talk to us?” Jessica Ware said. “I hope this won’t take long. Iona and I are quite busy, trying to fill all the blanks Marco left behind. And terribly upset.” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose vigorously.
Uh, oh, Yoko thought, as Jessica Ware blew her nose. She wondered how Zoran would handle this affront to his OCD-enhanced need for personal cleanliness.
To Yoko’s surprise, Zoran walked up to Jessica and held out his hand. After shaking her hand, then Iona’s, he said, “I am Zoran Zeissing. I am a detective lieutenant from the 13th Precinct.” Nodding towards Yoko, he continued, “This is Dr. Kamimura, my associate and a civilian consultant to the department.”
Jessica and Iona shook Zoran’s hand respectfully, then Yoko’s hurriedly, scarcely paying attention to Yoko. Typical typecasting, Yoko thought. The man’s always in charge, especially with the police. Of course, it was irritatingly true in most situations. Still, makes it easy for me to observe. Jessica and Iona stared at Z
oran, who was involved in one of his OCD moments.
Zoran brought his right hand under his nose, sniffed briefly, then extracted a Purell wipe from his jacket pocket and carefully cleaned both hands and returned the used wipe to a zip-top baggie kept in his other jacket pocket just for that purpose. Apparently, Zoran had faith that his wipes protected him from Jessica’s and Iona’s germs. As usual, Yoko noted, he was completely unaware that his actions might seem odd to others—in this case, the two women waiting to be questioned.
Zoran gestured to a grouping of a very long, and very uncomfortable looking Louis XVI sofa and flanking curlicued side chairs arranged in front of an elaborate marble-faced fireplace on the east wall of the room. The fireplace’s mantle was filled with small white statuary, all trimmed in gold. “Shall we sit over there? I promise we will be as considerate of your time as you are forthcoming in your answers to my questions.”
“Of course,” Jessica said. She led the way to the furniture grouping, heading for the left end of the long sofa. Iona Duncan scurried to the right end of the sofa, where she sat, immediately crossing her legs and clamping her arms tight across her breast to ward off imminent assault.
Jessica motioned towards the flanking chairs, inviting Yoko and Zoran to be seated. When they had—Zoran in the chair nearest Iona, Yoko in the other—Jessica lowered herself gracefully onto the sofa and sat, her back as straight as an arrow. “Please, ask your questions, Detectives. We’re eager to help, however we can. We’re very anxious to see Marco’s murderer brought to justice.”
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