Eli's Promise

by Ronald H. Balson

“You’re not. The love that you’ve given to Izaak means so much to him. You can see it in his eyes, in the joy of his expressions. As far as Izzie is concerned, love is not a finite quantity. He knows his mama may never return—no one knows what tomorrow will bring—but in his mind, he has love for you both. Life has to go on. He spent two years with Lucya, and he loved her, too.”

  “You never told me how the two of you reconnected.”

  Eli nodded and took a sip of wine. “In 1943, word came down from Berlin: all the Jewish labor camps were to be closed and Europe, then totally controlled by Germany, was to be cleansed of Jews. They kept the brickyard going because it was essential. Globočnik needed me. I didn’t know the extent of his crimes at the time. I knew he was a contemptible monster, but I didn’t know how diabolical he truly was. He was responsible for constructing the poison gas facilities at Sobibor, Majdanek and Treblinka. His building materials helped kill a million and a half Jews. But for all I knew, we were shipping materials to build barracks and utility buildings.”

  Eli took a breath and shook his head. “Globočnik committed suicide, you know? He bit a cyanide capsule when the Allies were questioning him after the war. Architect of the gas chambers. A quick death was too good for him.”

  “How did you and Izzie find each other again?”

  “In 1943, Globočnik was reassigned from Lodz to Trieste in German-occupied Italy. A new SS officer was sent to oversee the Lodz brickyard, but he didn’t know what he was doing. Toward the end of the year, I had him sign a document that allowed me to travel throughout the General Gouvernment for the ostensible purpose of checking on deliveries to his installations. I told him I would be gone for a few weeks. The credentials were solid.

  “I drove to the church to find Lucya. By that time, in early 1944, almost all the Jews in Poland were imprisoned in concentration camps or were being hunted down or were dead. When I arrived, a nun told me that Lucya was no longer affiliated with the church, that she had moved away and that no one knew where she had gone. I was struck with panic. How would I ever find my son? I could only hope that the church officials were lying to me to protect Lucya and Izaak.

  “One night I waited until the church was empty, and I knocked on the rectory door. Father Jaworski answered. ‘You were told that Lucya is no longer here. We don’t know where she went,’ he said, but I could tell he was lying. I pleaded with him. ‘You’re a man of God,’ I said. ‘Don’t stand there and lie to me. Tell me the truth. Where is my son?’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t tell you where she went; she made me promise. She took the boy with her. He’s safe. Let them be.’

  “‘I am forever grateful for what she did,’ I said, ‘but a father has the right and responsibility to make decisions for his son.’

  “‘You’re making a mistake,’ he said.

  “‘Maybe I am, but I have the right to make a mistake. I’m his father.’

  “He looked at me with his gentle, aged eyes. ‘Yes, I believe you do. She’s keeping him in a basement of a home near Bialystok.’

  “He gave me the address and I drove up there. As I entered Białystok, I could see rows of Nazi soldiers. I was stopped twice by patrols, but my authorization held. I waited until nightfall and visited Lucya. She urged me to go away. ‘Turn around,’ she said. ‘Izaak is safe. Don’t be a fool. Leave him here.’

  “I hesitated. Maybe she was right. She had kept him safe for all these months. I said I wanted to see him, but she thought it was a bad idea. ‘He’s adjusting to his separation,’ she said. ‘It’s been hard on him.’ I nodded and left.

  “All that night I argued with myself. Maybe it was me who couldn’t handle the separation. Anyway, the next day I changed my mind. I went back to the house.

  “Lucya remained insistent. ‘Białystok is overrun. Remaining Jews are all being ferreted out of their hiding places. They’re shooting them, Eli—shooting them in the streets. If you move Izaak, it’s likely he’ll be discovered. Your very presence here is a danger to him. You must go.’

  “I shook my head. I was determined to keep my son with me. I reasoned that he was safer with me than hiding from the Jew Hunters in a basement. In retrospect, it would have been wiser to leave him with Lucya. I’ve made my share of mistakes. I took him from her that night, and we drove out of Białystok.

  “For the next ten months, Izzie and I wandered the countryside. I picked up odd jobs helping farmers in rural areas in exchange for food and a few nights in a barn, all the time moving closer and closer toward the Baltic coast. It was February 1945; the reports of Allied advances were promising, and I was convinced we would make it. Then one night, a farmer denounced us to the local prefect. We were arrested, thrown into a truck with other Jews and taken to a concentration camp. It was a time when thousands of prisoners were being marched from distant camps to camps deep into Germany, and Buchenwald was a principal destination.

  “The camp was terribly overcrowded, and provisions were inadequate. As far as the Germans were concerned, we were all expected to die. I cursed myself for my arrogance, for believing that I could protect Izzie better than Lucya. Then a miracle happened. We were rescued by the Americans in April 1945. Truth be told, I couldn’t have lasted much longer, but the U.S. Army liberated the camp and saved our lives. That’s my story. We were lucky.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  FÖHRENWALD DP CAMP

  AMERICAN ZONE

  OCTOBER 1947

  Eli was supervising the renovation of an apartment building when a worker tapped him on the shoulder. “There’s a call for you in the administration building.”

  As he walked toward the building, Eli wondered about the call. He hoped it was good news. Maybe it concerned his visas to the U.S. Maybe it was Major Donnelly telling him that they had reconsidered indicting Maximilian Poleski and that Eli would be needed as a witness. It was neither.

  “Eli, this is Ann Stewart. From Central Tracing Bureau.” Eli’s heart leapt, but only momentarily. “I’m afraid I have sad news. I wish it were otherwise. I hate making this call, but I didn’t feel right about sending a letter.”

  Eli was stunned. He stood speechless.

  “Eli? Are you there?”

  “I’m here. Did she die at Ravensbrück?”

  “No, not at Ravensbrück. We went through Ravensbrück records. Although they’re not complete, there are records from 1943, and we found no mention of Esther Rosen in any of the records: intake, transfer, totenbuch. We determined that she never entered the camp.”

  “But, Ann…”

  “Then we decided to check the Lublin records, especially those for the Lipowa labor camp, which the Nazis called Lindenstrasse. Beginning in 1942 and continuing to November 1943, Lipowa workers were routinely transported or marched to Majdanek. There is no record of sending those women to Ravensbrück.”

  Eli interrupted again. “But Esther would have been a special exception. She was being protected by a Nazi collaborator. She could have been sent to Ravensbrück irrespective of the other Lipowa workers.”

  “She would have been noted on the intake records, and her name is not there.”

  “You don’t understand. She was under the protection of a man who had contacts with Commandant Zörner and Brigadeführer Globočnik. He was connected to the highest levels of the Nazi command. He could have arranged for Esther to be sent anywhere. He gave me a note that said Ravensbrück. Why would he do that if it wasn’t so? I’m pretty sure…”

  “Eli, Eli … she didn’t make it. I’m so sorry, Eli, but Esther did not survive. I reviewed the Majdanek records for the women transported in 1942, specifically those transfers from Lublin and Lipowa. I found her name on a deportation list for October 1942. That transport went to the Majdanek camp. Those women … it was a killing center, Eli. They all perished. I’m so sorry.”

  Eli stared at the telephone, at the black handset that had delivered the news. It had been five years since he had seen Esther, five years since he had held her or heard her voic
e, yet for him she was alive until this very moment.

  “Eli, are you still there?”

  His response was soft and slow. “What do I tell my son?”

  “I wish I had an answer for you.”

  Eli exhaled. “Thank you, Ann. I appreciate the work you did and that you made a personal call.”

  “You take care, Eli.”

  Adinah was hanging sheets on the line when she spotted Eli walking home. His gait was slow, his shoulders slumped, his eyes were red. Adinah dropped her laundry and ran to him. “Eli?”

  It took effort, but he finally said, “She’s dead, Adinah. They murdered my Esther.”

  “Oh, Eli,” Adinah cried. She put her arms around him and walked him into the house.

  “I have to tell Izaak,” he said.

  “Do you?”

  “He needs to know the truth. I’ve always been honest with him.”

  “Please, Eli, tell him only that she didn’t survive. Spare him the details. Don’t let his mind form a picture of his mother in that way. He has beautiful memories. Don’t let that gruesome image creep into his mind. Not now. Not at this young age.”

  Eli nodded and walked back to Izaak’s room. A few minutes later, Izaak burst out of his room, running to Adinah, arms wide open, tears flowing. He sat on her lap while she cradled him and rocked him back and forth.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  ALBANY PARK

  CHICAGO

  ALBANY PARK NEIGHBORHOOD

  FEBRUARY 1966

  Mimi braved the bitter winds and headed off on the five-block walk to Congressman Zielinski’s Albany Park residence. Once again, she was on a mission to plant a listening device and delude a woman who had shown her nothing but kindness since she was a child. She had strained to conjure up another pretext a mere three days after she had popped in unexpectedly with Christine’s sweater. She finally decided that returning a book was the best solution. Mimi and Christine had often exchanged books. That might also provide a reason to enter Vittie’s office. She could put the book onto the bookshelf and, in the process, hide the device.

  She settled on Bel Kaufman’s Up the Down Staircase, which topped the bestseller lists the previous summer and was a fun read for the two of them. She remembered when Christine brought the book over and urged her to read it. They had chuckled about the tribulations of the dedicated first-year high school teacher and her students who couldn’t care less. She remembered the night they sat around and cast the principal characters with Von Steuben teachers and classmates, laughing until their sides hurt.

  As she approached the driveway, she noticed a white Commonwealth Edison truck parked in front of the neighbor’s house. Pretty cold night for emergency service, she thought. Pretty cold night for lying to a lovely, unsuspecting woman. Pretty cold night for anything.

  “Mimi! It’s great to see you again, but what brought you out on this nasty night?” Vera said, taking Mimi’s coat. Mimi glanced to the right and noticed that the light was on in Vittie’s office.

  “I don’t mean to trouble you, Vera, but I forgot to bring this with me when I came by earlier in the week. Do you remember how much Chrissie loved Up the Down Staircase?”

  “Oh Lord, yes. She urged me to read it, but I didn’t get the same enjoyment out of it that you two did.”

  “This book belonged to her. It has her name written on the inside cover. I thought you should have it. It might bring back happy memories.”

  “How thoughtful. Would you like some tea to warm you up on this bitter evening?”

  “That would be very nice; thank you.” As Vera left for the kitchen, Mimi slipped into the office. A cabinet door was ajar, and Mimi could see that there were several green-bound ledger books stacked inside. “Well, lookie here,” she said to herself, “and now to get the replacement device onto the shelf.” She opened her purse, and a voice behind her said, “What in the hell are you doing in here?”

  She spun around to see Michael Stanley, arms folded across his chest, peering down at her through his wire-framed glasses. A hawk on a branch.

  “It’s not your concern,” Mimi said, quickly clasping her purse.

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. If you’re in this office, it’s my concern. If you’re in this house, it’s my concern. What are you doing in here? What are you looking for?”

  “I don’t have to answer to you. I don’t work for you. I’m a guest in this house.” She turned to walk out the door, but Stanley stepped in front of her.

  “Let me by.”

  “What are you doing in my office?”

  “Since when is it your office?” she said boldly, clutching her purse.

  Stanley’s face broke into a satanic grin. “Are you looking for this?” He held up the first listening device and waved it in front of Mimi’s face. “I found this little thing sitting on the shelf yesterday. Imagine that.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with me. Now let me go.”

  Stanley stared. “What are you holding on to so dearly? What’s in your bag? Hand it over.” He reached for the purse with one hand and grabbed Mimi’s wrist with the other.

  “Let me go! It’s none of your damn business.”

  Stanley snatched the purse out of her hands, opened it and pulled out the new listening device. “You little bitch. Another one. Who put you up to this? Was it Thorsen? Was it Nicholas Bryant? Which one of those greedy assholes put you up to this?”

  “Leave me alone. Let go of me.”

  He squeezed her arms and shook her. “Don’t play with me, young lady. You don’t know who the hell you’re dealing with.”

  “You’re wrong. I know exactly who I’m dealing with. You’re the man that everyone hates.” Mimi lunged for the door, but Stanley held her wrist and flung her backward.

  “Let me go! Help!” she shouted. “Help!”

  Stanley laughed loudly. “I’m afraid there’s no cavalry in sight, and you’ve stuck your little nose where it doesn’t belong. Who told you to plant those listening devices? It was Bryant, wasn’t it? That snively little bastard. Always complaining. Always drunk. Never enough money for his salacious appetite or his greedy wife. Was it him? Or was it your idea? Maybe that’s it. Maybe Mimi Gold covets a front-page exclusive? Too bad no one will ever read that story.”

  “Listen, I’m working with the FBI, so you better let me go.”

  He laughed again, a loud, mocking laugh. “The FBI? Mimi Gold, special agent? Ha, ha! It seems to me that Mr. Hoover is going to lose one of his top agents. You made a fatal mistake today, little lady agent.”

  “Are you going to kill me like you murdered Christine and Preston and then burn the house down?”

  Stanley smiled. “This house? Goodness, no. I built this house and everything in it. Vittie was a clueless freshman congressman from a know-nothing immigrant district when I met him. Probably still is. I showed him how to manage this district. I opened his eyes to the opportunities available to a creative congressman. Do you think that wealth and power come easily? I worked hard to build this house. It’s a monument to me. I certainly wouldn’t burn it down. But you, little lady, have become a threat to my monument. You know too much.”

  “Is that why you killed Chrissie and Preston? Did they know too much? Were they threats to your monument?”

  “Well, on that account you’re mistaken. I didn’t kill anyone. Not that I’m sorry that the whiny little bitch and her boorish husband were silenced. It was well done, but not by me.”

  “Listen, Stanley, the FBI knows I’m here. You’d be smart to give yourself up right now.”

  Stanley laughed heartily. “Oh my God, the FBI again. I don’t see them, Mimi, where are they?”

  Mimi stood tall. “They know those ledger books are in here, and when they seize them, all of you will end up in jail.”

  Stanley slowly shook his head from side to side. “They’ll never find the books, and sadly they’ll never find you either.”

  Suddenly Vera appeared in the doorway
holding a cup of tea. “What’s going on in here?” she demanded. “I heard shouting.”

  “Help me, Vera,” Mimi cried. “He’s threatening to kill me. Call the police. Hurry.”

  Vera dropped the cup. “What are you doing, Michael? Are you crazy? Let her go.”

  “I’m afraid not, Vera. Things have reached a critical stage in my professional career. And, I’m afraid, that of your husband’s as well. As his trusted chief of staff, you know I am charged with the responsibility of protecting him and you. Now I want you to turn around, go upstairs and close your door. Do you understand me?”

  “Michael. She’s just a sweet girl, a friend of Christine’s.”

  “Turn around, Vera. Go upstairs. Now!”

  Vera sighed, turned and walked out of the room.

  Stanley pulled Mimi over to the desk, opened a drawer, extracted a silver pistol and stuck it in his belt. “Now it’s time to dispose of this inconvenient problem. We’re going to take a ride.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Stanley shrugged. “Dead or alive, you’re going.”

  “Freeze, Stanley,” Cliff Ryan said, entering the room, followed by Eli, Vera and two other agents. “Hands up where I can see them.”

  Mimi pulled her arm from Stanley’s grip and stepped to the side. “Thank God! Where did you come from?”

  Ryan smiled. “We were in the truck outside, listening and recording. Mrs. Zielinski let us in.” Vera raised her eyebrows and nodded.

  “You heard everything that was going on?” Mimi said.

  Ryan nodded. “Every bit.”

  “And you stood by and let him threaten to kill me? He could have shot me. Or I could have had a heart attack.”

  “We wanted to get as much as we could.”

  Stanley looked at Eli. “Well, if it isn’t Eli Rosen, I’ll be damned. I should have figured you were behind this somehow. You’ve been plaguing me for thirty years.”

  “End of the road, Maximilian. Your scheming days are over.”

  “It’s Michael Stanley, if you please. He’s a much more successful man and I’m quite fond of him.”