Eli's Promise

by Ronald H. Balson

  “All your schemes, all your lies—it’s all over. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. You’re finished.”

  Stanley had a confident smile on his face as he was being cuffed and led away. “Maybe yes and maybe no.” He looked at Ryan. “I know where the grapes of wrath are buried, Special Agent. Ring me up when you want to make a deal.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  CHICAGO

  MARCH 1966

  Mimi watched Stanley’s interrogation from behind the one-way mirror. In the room, Stanley sat on one side of a long metal table facing Eli and Cliff Ryan. Kenneth Berman, First Assistant U.S. Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois, stood to the side. Several of the green ledger books lay open on the table. Stanley was drumming his fingers on the table and shrugging off questions as they were being posed. Ryan would fire questions at him, pound the table and point their fingers in his face, but Stanley remained indifferent and smugly shook his head. Finally, he said, “When you’re prepared to make me a reasonable offer, I’ll answer all your questions. In fact, I’ll give you what you need to bring the house down.”

  Eli slammed his fist. “Not this time, Poleski. No end runs this time. There’ll be no white knight riding in to cut you loose. Congressman Zielinski will be arrested, as will all of the crooked military contractors. We have hours of tape, more than enough to keep all of you behind bars for the rest of your lives.”

  Stanley scoffed and shook his head. “Don’t take me for a fool. Zielinski hasn’t been arrested or he’d be in this room listening to your threats instead of me. You have nothing. No evidence to take down Zielinski or anyone else.”

  “Well, we certainly have you, Stanley,” Ryan said. “Caught red-handed, and it’s all on tape. ‘They’ll never find the ledger books or you either,’ wasn’t that what you said? And then there’s the hours of meetings on tape. You have a very recognizable voice.”

  Stanley wasn’t fazed. “Oh, I was present at all those meetings, but when you listen to your tapes, what do you hear? We were very careful about what we said and how we said it. The possibility of eavesdropping was always on our minds. Do you think a jury will convict someone of agreeing to contribute forty-five thousand dollars to the March of Dimes? Is that evidence of corruption, or is it a selfless act of civic charity? You heard conversations of donations to worthy causes. Did you ever hear the word ‘payoff’? Did you hear the word ‘kickback’? No? I didn’t think so. You heard us speak of military contracts and the necessity for weapons and war materials desperately needed by our troops valiantly fighting the communists in Vietnam. A congressman is supposed to do his background research before recommending large military expenditures. Holding meetings with contractors is hardly a crime. That’s the business of a congressman.”

  “The ledger books are no longer locked away. We have reviewed them, and to quote Preston Roberts, they contain major shit. You’re all going down.”

  Stanley smiled. “You won’t see my name or Zielinski’s name in the ledger books. Do you really understand the entries on those pages? I doubt very much that a simpleton like Preston could or that you could either. The accountant was very skillful … no, maybe we should say obtuse. Unclear. He used codes and entries that only he would understand. And I’m sure that he can explain each entry in a way that is consistent with sound accounting practices and legitimate purchase orders. Face it: you need my help. You have six businessmen on tape. How many more are out there that aren’t on your tapes? What evidence do you think you’ll need to bring down a powerful twenty-year congressman? And, of course, there is the matter of the unfortunate deaths of Christine and Preston Roberts. Imagine what I could do for your career, Assistant U.S. Attorney Berman.”

  “You’re facing the electric chair for murdering those two kids,” Eli said. “We saw you with the gun in Zielinski’s office.”

  Stanley let out a short chuckle. “I’ve never fired a gun in my life. I doubt the pistol was even loaded.” He looked at Ryan. “Was it?”

  Ryan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You threatened a woman with a gun. And you can be held equally responsible for the Robertses’ murders as a coconspirator, even if you didn’t pull the trigger.”

  Stanley sat back and glanced at Berman. “Conspiracies are so hard to prove, aren’t they? The when and how, what was said and the steps in furtherance—all beyond a reasonable doubt. Not a slam dunk for you, is it, Mr. U.S. Attorney?”

  Eli stood and leaned over the table. “Who killed those kids?”

  Stanley held up his index finger. “Sounds like there’s room for a deal. I can give you the murderer. I can give you the military contractors who aren’t on your tapes. I can decipher the ledgers and tell you exactly what each of them agreed to do and where the money went. Once again, Eli, you need the services of Maximilian Poleski, he of royal blood. As I have always told you, we are bound together.”

  “I needed you once, and all your promises meant nothing. You betrayed me without a second thought.”

  “Times were different. I had my own skin to protect.”

  Eli lunged forward, grabbed Maximilian by the throat. Through clenched teeth he snarled, “You were supposed to protect Esther! She was executed at Majdanek, you son of a bitch. And you even lied when you wrote Ravensbrück on the note.”

  Ryan stepped forward, took Eli’s hand away and held him back from Stanley.

  Stanley coughed and rubbed his throat. “It was an excusable error.”

  With his lips drawn in a contemptuous sneer, Eli said, “I’d sooner see every one of those corrupt contractors go free before I’d agree to lessen your jail sentence by one single day.”

  “Ah, but it isn’t your call, is it, Eli?” He turned to Berman. “I can give you the murderer, the other contractors, the source of every payment and be your star witness at trial. Do we talk?”

  Berman nodded. “If what you say is true, if you can provide corroborative testimony and the information you’ve just described, we can discuss recommending a reduced sentence in exchange for your cooperation.”

  From behind the mirror, tears rolled down Mimi’s cheeks.

  “I want it in writing before I say a word,” Stanley said, popping his finger on the table.

  “It’ll have to be cleared by my chief.”

  * * *

  “You can’t let him do this,” Mimi pleaded. “He’s as guilty, or more so, than all the others put together. I don’t believe that he didn’t commit the murders. I saw the evil in his eyes when he held that gun on me.”

  Eli placed his hands on her shoulders. “Mimi, I feel the same as you. There isn’t a man alive who wants Maximilian Poleski punished more than I do. In fact, no punishment would be severe enough for me. But Berman is right. If Poleski’s testimony puts all of the corrupt contractors behind bars, takes down Zielinski and brings the murderers to justice, then we need to make the deal.”

  Mimi’s jaw was shaking. “I need to know who killed Chrissie and Preston. Please, Eli, before we go any further with this man, make him tell us about the murders.”

  “There’ll be no deal without that information. No deal without his testimony in the murder trial.”

  * * *

  Two days later, a written Plea and Cooperation Agreement was drafted by the U.S. Attorney’s Office and brought to the interrogation room for Stanley’s signature. Berman turned on the tape recorder and pointed to the multipage proffer that lay on the table.

  “Mr. Michael Stanley, also known as Maximilian Poleski,” Berman said, “so we are clear this morning, do you understand and accept the importance of complete honesty and full disclosure?”

  Stanley looked at Eli and Ryan and nodded.

  “Please respond verbally.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you also understand that even though the government will recommend a reduced sentence, we cannot guarantee it? Ultimately, it will be up to the judge.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

  “Keep in
mind, Mr. Stanley, if any of the information you provide is untruthful or if you fail to fully cooperate and respond to any request, the agreement will be voided, and you will be prosecuted.”

  “I understand; I understand. Let’s get on with it.”

  “When did you first meet Congressman Witold Zielinski?”

  “It was in September or October 1945. The Allies were preparing to start the trials at Nuremburg. I had a lot of information on Hans Frank, and I agreed to be a witness in his trial in exchange for a visa to the U.S. Vittie was in Europe on a joint congressional study about reconstituting Poland. We met in Munich and hit it off. I was amazed at how smooth and easy it was for me to get a visa, and I mentioned that to Vittie. You wouldn’t believe how incredibly valuable a U.S. visa was in those days. Vittie shrugged and told me that visas were under his jurisdiction. It didn’t take much imagination to see there was a way to make some real money. So I pitched the plan to Vittie. We’d run it like I did with the Juden Ausweis cards; I would find customers, and he’d get the visas. Simple as that.”

  “Talk to us about December seventeenth,” Berman said.

  Stanley nodded. “That was the day of the fire. Things had spun out of control in Chicago. Nicky was getting buried in his divorce case and he was drinking heavily. He kept coming to us demanding more and more money, but we couldn’t steer any more shipments his way. The little shit was making a damn fortune and stuffing all the cash in his office safe to hide from his wife.”

  “And Christine saw the money?”

  He nodded. “Sure, Christine saw the money. Hell, Christine knew all about the money. She was reporting the amounts to her father every day. She knew that money was coming in from contractors left and right. Nicky was the pivot man. All the money was funneled through Nicky. No one was foolish enough to drop money on the congressman.”

  “Christine kept track of bribes?”

  Stanley shrugged. “She probably didn’t know they were bribes. She was kind of naïve. She thought it was all shipping fees.”

  “What happened on the seventeenth?”

  “Well, you have to go back a week or two earlier. That’s when Nicky went over the edge. We knew the situation was bad. Christine had been complaining to her father about Nicky’s behavior, but we didn’t know how bad it was. Vittie tried to put a lid on Nicky, but Nicky was a time bomb. Then on December tenth, Nicky hauled off and punched Christine in the face, and she marched out the door.

  “She called her father that night all weepy and whiny and said she wasn’t going back. Vittie blew up at Nicky, but he couldn’t allow Christine to quit. She was our eyes and ears. Vittie pleaded with her and promised that he would straighten everything out, but Christine wouldn’t budge. No matter what, she wasn’t going back. Then Preston butted in and started threatening to go to the newspapers.” Stanley made a face and shook his head. “I told Vittie he never should have hired Preston to begin with. We didn’t need him; he didn’t do a damn thing except piss people off.

  “Well, it all came to a head on December seventeenth. Christine wouldn’t return to her job, and Preston was mouthing off, so Vittie and I decided to set things straight. We talked to Nicky. We told him he’d never get another shipping contract unless he behaved. And he agreed. He said he’d treat her respectfully and leave her alone to do her job. ‘A perfect gentleman,’ he said.

  “Vittie and I were satisfied. Then we had to convince Christine to go back to work. He called her and he was firm, but she was adamant. ‘Under no circumstances,’ she said. It shocked the hell out of Vittie; his daughter had never defied him before. She said she didn’t trust Nicky and didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Vittie got angry, said some things, and Christine hung up on him. It was late in the evening, and Vittie turned to me and said, ‘That impudent little bitch. After everything I’ve done for her and her husband. They’ll not turn their backs on me. I’m going to go over there and lay down the law.’”

  From behind the mirror, Mimi’s hand shot up to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Vittie killed his own daughter.”

  “Vittie didn’t go to the house to hurt anyone,” Stanley said. “He loved his daughter. He only wanted to be firm, to tell her that he needed her to go back to work. He was exercising his parental rights and demanding obedience from his daughter. What’s wrong with that? But he was worried about Preston. Preston was a big guy with a hot temper, and Vittie was worried that he might get physical. So he did something stupid. He had a silver pistol—you saw it the other night. He took it to scare Preston in case Preston got out of line.”

  Stanley took a sip of water. “The way I understand it, things got out of hand. There was a lot of screaming and crying. Vittie was insisting, Christine was resisting and finally Preston asked him to leave. He told Vittie to get out. Vittie said something about no young punk was going to tell him what to do. Preston tried to push Vittie out of the house, and Vittie pulled the gun. They wrestled and the gun went off. It was an accident. The bullet hit Christine in the neck. She immediately fell to the floor. It had severed an artery. There was no hope for her. Preston was kneeling over her, crying and screaming, ‘What did you do?’ Vittie panicked. He shot Preston.

  “He called me, told me what happened and said we have to hide the bodies or something. I came up with the idea of burning the house down and destroying all the evidence.” Stanley shrugged. “I thought it was a good plan; it should have worked. I didn’t expect the fire department to get there that fast. They doused the fire before it got to the back of the house.” Stanley spread his hands. “That’s the whole story. It was never meant to happen. But it did, and by then it was too late.”

  EPILOGUE

  Five copies of the Sunday Tribune lay on the coffee table in the Gold apartment. The forty-eight-point headline read: ZIELINSKI, THIRTEEN OTHERS INDICTED. The sub-headline read: CONGRESSMAN CHARGED WITH DOUBLE MURDER. Beneath the headlines was the following byline: “Exclusive to the “Tribune, Miriam Gold, Staff Reporter.”

  “Pulitzer stuff,” Nathan said. “Your series will run all week in the Trib and be syndicated nationally. I always knew you’d be a famous writer!”

  “Cut it out,” she said.

  Ruth picked up the paper and shook her head. “I still can’t believe that Vittie killed his daughter.”

  “According to Stanley, it was an accident,” Mimi said. “Vittie loved Chrissie; I know he did.”

  “Damn shame,” Ruth said. “At least they’ll all stand trial for what they did.”

  Mimi’s lips were quivering. “It won’t bring her back, Mom.”

  Ruth put her arm around Mimi. “But they’ll all get what’s coming to them.”

  “All but Maximilian,” Eli said. “He never gets what’s coming to him. He gave the prosecutors all the evidence they’ll need to convict Vittie and the crooked contractors. He detailed twenty years of criminal conduct, and for that he gets a sweet deal.”

  “Just like he did in Germany,” Mimi said.

  Eli nodded. “In exchange for his cooperation and testimony at the defendants’ trials, he’ll get a substantial reduction in sentence. I suppose there’s a possibility that he’ll die in prison, but I’d never bet against Maximilian. That snake has a way of reappearing.”

  “Attorney Berman said there will be significant jail time. I think the world is rid of Maximilian Poleski. Eli, you kept your final promise. After all those years, you brought him to justice.”

  Grandma came out of the kitchen with a plate of baked goods. “Enough talk about those nasty criminals. I baked a cake and some cookies to celebrate Mimi’s exclusive series. Our star reporter.”

  “What do you have there?” Eli said with a smile. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Grandma nodded. “Babka.”

  Eli raised his eyebrows. “With raspberries?”

  “And a little whiskey.”

  Eli and Mimi locked eyes. “A bisselah?” she said.

  “Aye,” Eli said, and they each
took a pinch off the bottom of the cake.

  * * *

  During coffee and cake, Mimi said to Eli, “So I suppose you’ll be giving up your apartment now and returning to Washington?”

  “I’m afraid so, but not without some regret. During the last year, I’ve really come to enjoy living here in Albany Park, and especially in your building. You, your mother and your grandmother are special people to me, but I have to get back. Washington’s been my home since 1949.”

  “We’ll miss you. I’ll miss you, Eli. I’ll miss our talks. I’ll miss your wisdom. You’ve been a good friend and a comfort to me.”

  “Oh, you’ll not be rid of me so easily. I’ll have to return from time to time for the trials. And later this spring, you, your mother and your grandmother will come to Washington as our guests.”

  “We will?”

  “You most certainly will; I insist. The director would like to thank you personally and present you with official recognition for your exceptional service. I wouldn’t be surprised if the ceremony took place at the White House.”

  “Oh, my God, Mom, did you hear that? We’re going to the White House! I don’t know what to say.”

  Eli smiled. “Then say you’ll come to Washington and accept your award. And while you’re there, you’ll honor me by having dinner at my home.”

  “I would be delighted. I’d love to meet your family.” She paused. “When I first saw your photographs and learned you were from Poland, I suspected the worst. Eventually, you told me that you and your son were rescued by my father’s unit, the Super Sixth. Then I heard you tell Stanley that Esther died at Majdanek.”

  Eli nodded. “She did. I lost a lot of family in the war. I wish you could have met them—Esther, my father, my brother, my niece, my sister-in-law—all beautiful people, but they didn’t survive the slaughter.”

  “I’m so sorry. But Izaak survived. Will I get to meet the little boy in the picture?”