Jules was in his office checking his records when Rosenthal phoned. “How are you, Herr Weiner?” the older man inquired. He and Jules had reached a form of respect over the years, but they would never address each other by the informal “Du”.
“Fine, Herr Rosenthal. Fine. Are you and Frau Rosenthal well?”
“Well is well. At seventy-five years of age, anything is well.” The older man chuckled. He knew that everyone else knew he was only seventy-years-old, but he enjoyed his little game. “Herr Weiner,” he went on, his voice serious and conspiratorial. “One of the two men who were seeking a Frau Barlak a couple of years ago was here just a few minutes ago.”
Jules sat up abruptly. Goose pimples rose on his arms, then he felt a surge of anger. “Did he know where Frau Charnoff was living?”
“No. Not at all. Like I said, he wanted information only about where Frau Barlak was located.”
“Did he say Barlak or Charnoff?”
Rosenthal had known since Hanna’s confession of her true identity. “He said Barlak. That means he doesn’t know about the change in name.”
Jules pushed his books aside and drew over a pad. He had built up a moderate-sized men’s haberdashery shop into one of the leading department stores in the kingdom in only ten years, and he was well accustomed to facing problems. “Describe the man.” His hand recorded the information on the pad swiftly. “Was he alone?”
“No. He had another man along. Not the same as before, though.”
“Describe him?” He wrote down the data, then he went on, “What did he finally say when you told him you knew nothing?”
“He didn’t seem surprised.” Rosenthal took a few seconds to reflect. “I have a feeling that he believed me. It’s almost–well, as if he went to hunt for her in North Germany, then began backtracking, so to speak.”
Jules had always felt that Rosenthal was as sharp as can be, but his estimate of the present situation was superb. “Thank God he didn’t run upon Frau Charnoff.”
“Yes. I was praying that she did not come by unexpectedly.”
“Yes. That is fortunate. It seems he doesn’t know about her new name?”
“He could also be looking for a Frau Timoshinkov.”
That brought Jules up short. Of course. The Okhrana might have learned about Hanna’s marriage. “That makes sense. Anyhow, until I get back to you, if any of them should show up, say you learned nothing. Try to get their address.” He paused to consider his next comment. “Also try to follow them, if you can, Herr Rosenthal.”
Rosenthal’s soft chuckle did not conceal his excitement. “I planned to do just that, Herr Weiner.”
“Excellent. Please be careful.”
As soon as he hung up, he was on the phone to Hanna and spoke of his conversation with Rosenthal. “Hanna, tell Elfriede to take over. Warn her to say nothing to anyone. Then take a taxi to my house. I will be leaving for home at once myself.”
She grasped the situation immediately and did not argue. “Very well, Jules. I will come right away.”
Once Jules finished with Hanna, he called Fergl, who promised to meet them as soon as he could drive there.
Jules arrived first and was working on his second schnapps when they came. He handed a Likör to Hanna and a schnapps to Fergl, then they sat to discuss the problem. Hanna was frightened; the two men could see. After all, she had gone through the shooting at Garmisch and had seen how determined and vicious the Russian killers were.
“We should call Herr Wuerst?” said Fergl when their conversation had come to a dead halt.
“Who is he?” asked Hanna.
“He’s the detective who found the agency you are dealing with in Königsberg.”
“Very well,” she assented.
Fergl was on the phone immediately, he explained the situation, then hung up. “He will be here at eight tonight. He wants all of us, including Rosenthal, to be present.”
All were waiting in the library when Reuben ushered in the lean, hooded-eyed detective. He accepted a drink from Jules, and then listened quietly as each one spoke, making occasional notes in a small book and asking brief questions from time to time. When all were done, he lit a cigar and leaned back into his chair, thinking.
“There are a number of options,” he finally said, in his clipped, no nonsense manner. “The first is to hunt down and do away with these two men.”
“Kill them?” asked Hanna, with an incredulous stare.
“They would murder you in an instant,” said Wuerst, harshly. “They deserve no less.” He raised his hand. “However, if they were killed, it might make the Russians suspect they were getting close to their targets. The best means would be to convince them that you have left the country.”
“We were hoping they thought that the last time,” said Jules.
Wuerst nodded. “Herr Rosenthal’s analysis appears sound–that they have recently run upon Herr Golub’s cover name and are checking places he might have visited.” He leaned forward in his chair, nearer to Jules. “It is all merely a matter of manpower. To visit each town and city in Germany and carry out a thorough investigation would require scores of agents. Frau Charnoff and Herr Gulman are certainly not the only fugitives being sought, and no government can support such an effort unless it was one upon which national security depended.”
“What do you suggest, then?” asked Fergl. “This case is certainly not a national priority.”
“To the targets, it seems that way,” replied the detective pointedly. “Anyhow, I think the Russians should be tracked down, to determine if they still consider Stuttgart to be a place of interest. If they have left, we could assume that they have been thrown off the trail. In that event…” he took a puff on his cigar to consider his words, “…we could seek them out and do away with them in a distant city. That might turn subsequent searches in that direction.”
“Suppose your investigation reveals that they are still in Stuttgart?” asked Hanna.
Wuerst pursed his lips, and his eyes grew pensive. “We would have to meet again to decide on a course of action. Frau Charnoff, I suggest that you remain here in Herr Weiner’s house for the next few days.”
She shrugged. “There are always problems that must be dealt with in my company. I understand the seriousness of the situation, but can you provide me with a bodyguard?”
“Yes, of course. But it is always harder to deal with men out to kill someone than it is with those merely making an investigation.”
Hanna nodded in understanding. “Very well, I will remain here. But if conditions at my factory grow serious, I will have to go there.”
“Agreed. Let me know if that becomes necessary before you go outside.” He rose, and, with courteous goodbyes, left the house.
“He’s a cool one,” said Rosenthal, nodding his head. “I would not like to be the man he is after.”
That night, after the light in Hanna’s bedroom had been extinguished, Jules slipped downstairs and made himself comfortable on a chair in the parlor. Under the blanket that he placed around his shoulders was a revolver, that he had purchased many years ago.
That same night, Wuerst met with four of his agents in a Stuttgart hotel room. He told them of the descriptions obtained from Rosenthal. “They speak with an accent,” he went on. “Apparently Russian.” He unrolled a map of the city and marked it into five areas, assigning each of them to a sector. “We will check every hotel, pension, and boarding house possible. There is a budget of forty marks a man for tips and other expenses. Now, let’s get some sleep and get started early.”
Three mornings later, Wuerst phoned Jules. “I would like everyone at your house again as soon as possible.”
“We can all be there in half an hour. Have you found them?”
“Yes. I will discuss it there.”
Upon his arrival, they all assembled in the library. Reuben served coffee, and then closed the door quietly behind himself.
Wuerst gratefully took a couple of sips. Hanna gathered at once that he had not even allowed time for breakfast. “We found your men at a small hotel just outside of town and followed them carefully. Each morning they stopped at one of your synagogues and watched the people enter and leave, and then they spoke with some merchants in the shopping area. Had they gained some information, they would have gone immediately to the bungalow Frau Charnoff and Herr Gulman once used or back to Herr Rosenthal’s. Since they have not yet checked out of their hotel, I suspect they will continue their search.” He drank again deeply, and then went on. “These men are using fine tactics. Sooner or later someone they speak to will mention that Mordecai Gulman did in fact reside here and is now dead. It would then be an easy task to learn that Herr Gulman had a friend named Hanna Charnoff.”
Hanna had paled, and her hand pressed against her throat. “It’s all right, Hanna,” said Jules softly. “Herr Wuerst will think of an answer.” He looked over hopefully at the slim man, his hooded eyes showing signs of fatigue.
Wuerst nodded. “I would like the following as soon as possible. First, meet with your rabbi and explain to him about Frau Charnoff’s situation in full detail. Then I want to have a word with him. Second, I will need four hundred marks for expenses. Third, I will need a truck.”
“We’ll take care of everything,” said Fergl. “When will you need the money and truck?”
“Directly after I speak with the rabbi.”
“Can you let us in on your plan?” asked Rosenthal.
“Later,” said Wuerst gently, but firmly. He held out his cup to Hanna.
“But I can use another coffee, please.”
Later in the morning, Rabbi Gluck left Jules’ library, where he had been closeted with Wuerst for only ten minutes. His eyes were gleaming, and he gave the merest of goodbyes before hastening out of the house. Wuerst soon followed, joining his men at the curb where his car and a truck were standing. They took off at once.
The day passed slowly for Hanna. She prepared a tasty supper with Frau Weiss, played with Paul when he returned from school, and sat in the parlor reading with Jules until it was time to go to bed. She lay awake for a long hour, wondering whether Jules had gotten some sleep at his office, for his stealthy descent to the parlor to stand guard each night had not escaped her. She would not say anything. It was his badge of honor.
The following evening, as the two sat reading, the phone rang. Jules grabbed it up, listened carefully, and then hung up. He immediately put in a call to Fergl. “Uncle Freddy, come at once. Please pick up Herr Rosenthal on your way.”
All were waiting on pins and needles when Wuerst arrived. His face was lined, but his eyes were bright. He took a schnapps gratefully, downed it in one long draw, then took another at which he sipped.
“Yesterday morning,” he said carefully, “I asked Rabbi Gluck for a great favor, which he agreed to do. When I left, I went to a gravestone engraver at a village east of Stuttgart and paid over your four hundred marks. That evening, working at full speed with an assistant, he completed what I ordered. Late last night, my men and I began work positioning what he had prepared. We managed to finish before dawn. Just after lunch, one of my men contacted the Russian agents at their hotel. He said that he had heard they were inquiring about a Mordecai Gulman. He asked whether they would pay for that information.”
Hanna let out a gasp of disbelief. Wuerst held up his hand for attention, and then went on. “The Russians agreed to twenty marks, so after being paid, my man said there had been a Jew named Mordecai Gulman living in Stuttgart, but he had died and been buried under the name of Jakob Golub.” The detective sipped at his drink again with pleasure. “The Russians became quite excited at that name and drove my man to the cemetery he had mentioned. While inspecting the gravestone, with some satisfaction, I must mention, one of the Russians looked at a stone next to Herr Golub’s. He almost jumped out of his shoes. Both of them made so many notes in their books that my man thought they would never leave. Before parting, they even gave him another ten marks.” Wuerst now allowed himself a full smile. “The stone next to Herr Golub’s carried the name Hanna Barlak Timoshinkov, who had died four months after him.” He allowed himself a smile at Hanna. “Her date of birth was the same as your very own. When they left, we followed them back to the hotel. They immediately packed and checked out. By now, they should be halfway to Russia. My men are now replacing the stone that was previously there.”
He lifted his glass. “I would like to offer a toast. To Rabbi Gluck, who arranged for an action completely against his moral belief. To save a life.” He bowed to Hanna. “I think you will be safe now.”