The One Man (29 page)

Mendl took Blum's arm and stared, bewildered, at the number, then back at him.

“I realize how this sounds, sir. But I can prove every word.”

“Then who the hell are you, having gotten your way inside here? Some kind of commando? You hardly look it. But your Polish is flawless. Yet you say you came from Washington? I'm old, but I'm not a fool, young man.”

“My name is Blum. I am Polish. Until three years ago I lived in Krakow. My family was killed by the Nazis, and I escaped to the United States. I enlisted there in the Army. A month ago they contacted me to come back here. For you specifically. To get you out. And take you back to the States.”

“To the States…”
Mendl's eyes grew wide. Then he just smiled and shook his head. “Look around, son. Do you not see two rows of electrified wire and all the guards? Do you intend to just call a cab and have it drive up to the front gate? Get out
how,
do you propose?

“We have a way. It's been worked out. They are still working on the train tracks, are they not, outside the camp gates?”

“Day and night. You can smell the ovens over at Birkenau. Twenty-four hours a day. The more trains, the more fuel for the fires.”

“Tomorrow night, we volunteer for the work detail there,” Blum said under his breath. “There'll be an attack. By Polish partisans.”

“
Partisans?
Here?”

“Yes. It's all been arranged. We have a plane. Two days ago it dropped me off. It's to take you back to England and then on to the United States. Whoever you are, sir, I can only say they want you very badly.”

“Whoever I am…?” The professor's look grew skeptical. “If this is a ploy of some kind, I assure you I—”

“They tried to get you out before with papers from the Paraguayan embassy. You were contacted by an emissary from the embassy in Bern.” Blum rattled off what he knew. “You went to the Swiss border and then on to Rotterdam to board a cargo ship. The
Prinz Eugen
. Is that not right? Then you ended up in France, at the detention center at Vittel…”

Mendl's look slowly changed from disbelief to one of astonishment. Gradually, he nodded. And then smiled. He saw now.

“This is no ploy, sir. I promise you.” Blum looked him in the eyes. “They wouldn't tell me what it is you did or why they need you. Only that it was vital to get you out. Which is why I'm here. And to give you this…”

Blum tore a seam on the inside of his uniform and reached inside. He came out with a folded piece of paper and handed it to Mendl. The old man looked at it, still suspicious at first or, at least, still a bit unsure, and then unfolded it, continuing to eye Blum with a bit of wariness. He took out his wire glasses and put them on.

It was a letter.

An image of the White House at the top.

The professor's eyes stretched wide.

“Professor Mendl…” He read softly under his breath in English. “The war effort needs you. I am encouraged to tell you that we are close. On what, due to security, I am unable to say here. But I know you know of which I speak. I am writing to say that you can trust this man, Nathan Blum, with your life. He is my direct emissary. Freedom and the fate of the war require that you come here and share your research. The grateful arms of the United States need you and await you. With all God's speed, Professor. And for the good of mankind.”

“My God,” Mendl uttered, his jaw slack.

It was signed Franklin Delano Roosevelt,
President of the United States
.

Mendl looked back up at Blum, the color drained from his face. “How did you possibly get this?”

“It was given to me. In England, before I left.”

“The heavy water experiments?” Mendl began to put it together. “Are the Americans close? They must be, if they sent you here for me.”

“I've heard of this, but I don't know. I was only told to give you that letter. And to get you back.”

“The bastards have destroyed all my work.” Mendl shook his head forlornly. “Not once, but twice. And besides, you can see I'm hardly in the top of health. I'm way too old to be playing secret agent.”

“You must come.” Blum insisted. “I've put my life at risk to bring you out. And that's what I'll do. I don't know what it is you know, or why they want
you,
above all others, but many people have put their lives on the line to get me here and to hand you this, Professor. So you must. You must come.”

Mendl let out a breath and ran a hand fitfully across his face. “We must put this away now.” He folded the letter back up again. “If anyone would see this…” He looked around with both foreboding and bewilderment in his gaze, still in shock, stuffing the letter into his waist.

“I have to ask, sir,” Blum inquired. “Your family…?”

Mendl shook his head. “They are gone. Soon after we arrived.”

“I'm sorry. Mine are gone as well. So then there is nothing to hold you back. I can vouch for the partisans. They are capable and dedicated soldiers. They will do what they are charged to do.”

“And then we do just what?” The professor chortled skeptically. “Throw down our shovels and run? Toward the woods. And the Nazis will simply look the other way?”

“No. Not toward the woods. Toward the river,” Blum said. “The opposite direction. We'll be met there.”

“Met there…” The professor laughed cynically. “It's been a while since my track running days, I'm afraid, if you can't already see that. Plus, I've been sick.”

“They'll be chaos all around. The attack should occupy the guards. I'll get you there.”

“And when is all this to happen?”

“Tomorrow night. At zero thirty hours.” Blum said, “I'll be going, whether you're with me or not. Though I'd much prefer it if it was the two of us.”

“And you say that there's a plane?”

“It will land about twenty kilometers from here. The partisans will take us.”

Mendl closed his eyes for a second and nodded as if deep in thought. “This is where my Marte and Lucy died. A part of me feels it's right that this is where I should die too.”

“What's right, to me, is that you make something of their deaths, Professor. As I am trying to of mine. I'm only here another day. That's all the time there is. Whatever it is you know, sir, the Allies seem to desperately need you.”

“This is all just so incredible…”

“That may be, sir. Nonetheless, you must come.”

Two soldiers stepped out of guardhouse, chatting. They came down the wooden steps, spoke for a second, then noticed Blum and Mendl. “
Was gibts hier?
” one questioned.
What's here?

“Latrine, sir.” Blum held out his pass to them. “I was just asking…”

“Then get on with it,” he snapped. “Let the old man do his work. It's back there. Go on.” They went off, resuming their conversation, and climbed into the half-track on the other side of the building. The engine started up.

Blum looked at Mendl. “I need your answer, sir. I should go. It's best I don't draw any attention…”

“My answer.” The professor still seemed conflicted.

“Yes. There is still work to be done.”

“Then, yes! My answer is, yes, I'll come.” Mendl put his bony hand on Blum's shoulder and squeezed. “You're right, it is too late for Marte and Lucy. But not for what I know. I'll come with you.”

Blum squeezed the professor in return. “I give you my word, sir, I'll get you back. Or die trying.”

“There's just one thing…”

“What?”

“I won't be coming alone. There is someone who must accompany me.”

Blum shook his head. “I'm afraid that's impossible.”

“There's a boy. In truth, he's no longer a boy. He's seventeen.”

“It's out of the question,” Blum insisted. “It will be hard enough to make sure I can protect
you
. But a boy like that … This isn't a popularity contest. This is about the war. The government of the United States has gone to extreme lengths to set this up.”

“I'm afraid it's not a wish, Panie Blum. It's a condition. For me to come. And he's not just some boy…” Mendl hesitated a moment. “He's my nephew. I won't leave him.” His gaze was resolute. “Without him, I don't go.”

“Nephew…” Blum drew in a troubled breath. Three would be more to manage. To take responsibility for. More conspicuous in the escape. What if the boy was hit? What then? Would the professor go or remain with him? He saw it clearly. Mendl would not so easily leave him behind.

“You wouldn't leave your own flesh and blood behind, would you, Panie Blum?”

Blum felt himself soften. What choice did he have? And Mendl's question seemed to hit the right nerve. “This boy, he can keep a secret?”

“I'll make sure of it.” Mendl nodded. “He's a remarkable lad. In many ways.”

“I don't care how remarkable he is, he still can't breathe a word. Everything depends on it.”

“He won't,” Mendl promised. “I give you my oath.”

Blum saw that it was a risk. He didn't know what someone like Strauss would do, faced with the same decision. But what choice was there? He saw the resolve in the professor's eyes. Without this boy, there was no Mendl. And that was why he was here. “All right. But no one else can know. No one.”

“You'll see, he won't be a burden. I give you my word.”

“I hope so. All our lives depend on it. Before we go, I want to meet him. Which block are you in?”

“Thirty-six.”

“I'm in twenty. And we'll have to get our way onto the work detail.”

Mendl nodded. “I know how to get that accomplished. There's a guard, Richter, who generally oversees it. And a
kapo
I know. They are always looking for workers. Or bribes. If I had money.”

“I can take care of that part. So I will find you tomorrow. Maybe play sick.” Blum put out his hand. “I'll be by your block.”

They shook.

“You know, from the day we left Lvov,” Mendl looked at him sadly, “Marte and I dreamed of taking our daughter to America. Of course the minute we got on that train we all knew that dream was dead. So maybe it's best, in a way, that they're gone now. Maybe that's how history intended it to be. If either was alive, even by a breath, you know I would never leave them.”

Blum nodded. “I know that.”

“I wonder whether anyone will ever take note of that fact one day, should we reach there?” the professor mused. “Or in the end, if it even really matters?”

 

FORTY-THREE

The Abwehr Daimler was waved through the camp's front gate and directed to the administrative offices.

Martin Franke stepped out.

A major in an SS uniform, handsome, with strong, dark features, came down the steps to greet him.

“Herr Colonel…” The officer gave Franke a quick
Heil
. “I am Lagerkommandant Ackermann. I am in charge of the camp while Kommandant Hoss is away.”

“Major.” Franke raised his palm. They shook hands.

“You've come a long way this busy morning for a visit. I'm very sorry the commandant couldn't be here himself to welcome you.”

“I'm sorry to have arrived on such short notice. I hope I'm not interrupting your work. But I have a matter of some importance that I believe relates to your camp.”

“If the Abwehr feels it is a matter of such urgency…” Ackermann smiled, his sarcasm showing through, “then no work is too important to interrupt. Come, it's been a long journey from Warsaw. We shall discuss it over a
kaffee
inside.”

They went into the administrative offices. Lieutenant Fromm came in with two coffees, and they sat around the small conference table in front of a map of the camp. “I am sorry that the commandant is not here. Unfortunately, he's been detained an extra day in Berlin, in meetings with Obersturmbannführer Eichmann and Reichsführer Himmler.”

“So I understand,” Franke replied, noting the SS man's superior tone. While technically Franke had the higher rank, the political battle between the Abwehr and its chain of command through Admiral Canaris and Göring, and the SS, reporting to Himmler himself, all competing for the Führer's ear, was not a secret. This Ackermann, Franke judged, would likely hide behind that protection. Franke was determined to prove him wrong.

“So please, if you don't mind…,” Ackermann said with a glance at his watch. “I don't mean to be rude, but there are many things I must attend to.”

“I'll get right to it then. I believe that someone may have entered your camp, Major.”

“Entered the camp?”

“Someone dropped in by plane, nearby. Either as an advance agent of some kind, perhaps to liberate it for the Allies. Or possibly for some other reason…” Franke put down his coffee.

“Some other reason…?” Ackermann leaned back skeptically and crossed his legs.

“Perhaps to locate someone, Major. Someone inside.”

“No one can just enter here without being detected.” The camp commander looked at Franke with a narrow, skeptical gaze. “And for what…? You have seen the Jews rounded up in Warsaw. You must have some idea what goes on here. Only the biggest fool in the world would make his way in here knowingly.”

“Perhaps to take someone back out then.” Franke looked at the major's deep-set eyes.

“I'm sure you took notice of the security as you drove in. There is a double row of wire. Electrified. It is patrolled night and day by guards with dogs. Everyone has a number, accounted for daily. Every vehicle in and out is thoroughly searched.”

“Yes, Major.” Franke opened his briefcase and took out the file he'd prepared. “I did notice the security here. But I'm not sure if you are aware that a low-flying plane was heard two days ago near Wilczkowice, approximately twenty kilometers from the camp, and a parachuter was spotted coming in. Likely to link up with Polish resistance on the ground.” He laid out the report of the local farmer's sighting. Ackermann read through it slowly.