Shmuel Asher’s mustache was so thick, a dozen mice could have hidden in it. His face was covered in scars. He was a powerful man, and it was safe to assume that the men who had inflicted those scars ended up looking far worse once he’d finished with them. If they had lived.
Asher was the leader of a group of crooks and thieves called Chompe, and Ruth was his favorite whore. In fact, he was said to truly love her. She’d told me this, bursting with pride, and I’d felt awful. She was so gullible. It was well known that Asher and many other men preferred underage girls.
I was in no danger of being a girl Asher might fancy. I was too bony. We sat at a table in a corner of the bar. Asher had his back to the wall like some desperado in a western who worried someone would shoot him from behind.
The singer was drinking at the bar while the piano man tinkled the keys softly and Ruth slid up and down Asher’s lap, pressing her cheek to his. The huge man ignored her attentions and asked me: “How could you possibly be of any use to me?”
“I’m an experienced smuggler,” I said, trying to sound confident.
“What sort of experience?”
Ruth suddenly stared at me. If I told Asher about the graveyard, he would know that she had betrayed one of his smuggling routes to me.
Her fear was contagious. I touched the tablecloth. My fingers stroked the little burns in the fabric and touched crumbs of food. I managed to calm down a bit.
“I climb over the wall,” I lied. I’d never climbed over the wall in my life.
Ruth was relieved I hadn’t given her away.
She smooched Asher’s face as he stared at me. “Where do you climb over?”
“Usually at Stawki Street, not far from Pokorna Street,” I lied some more.
“There are less dangerous places.”
“There aren’t any safe places,” I said.
“The safe places are where we have bribed the guards,” he grinned.
“You bribe the guards and I can’t smuggle on my own anymore—that’s why I want to join you,” I said. This part was true.
“It’s pretty brave to walk in here and demand to be a member of my gang.”
There was no way I could tell from his expression or the tone of his voice whether he was impressed by my boldness or offended by my behavior.
“We could use someone new. I’ve lost a few men in the past couple of weeks.”
He said a few, but I knew that he meant he’d lost many men. So this increased my chances of getting work. But it also worried me—in fact, it really scared me. It wasn’t even possible for the members of the infamous Chompe gang to survive as smugglers these days.
“But tell me,” Shmuel asked as the waiter brought him a cup of thick, tarry coffee. “Why should I choose you of all people to join my gang?”
“Because it’ll pay off,” I replied.
“A lot of people say that,” he said. “Give me another reason.”
I tried to think of one. What could I offer the king of thieves?
“Because…,” I stammered.
“Because?” he asked, and I was at a loss for words.
“Because,” Ruth spoke up all of a sudden, and stroked Asher’s cheek, “I’ll be especially nice to you.”
“You have to be anyway,” he replied.
“But it’s even better when I love you.”
That convinced Asher. He and Ruth seemed to have something else in mind when they used the word love than I did. He beamed at Ruth, took a sip of his coffee, and said, “Welcome to the Chompe gang!”
“Thank you!” I said. I looked at him briefly and then turned to Ruth. She was the one I was really thanking.
“You can start tonight,” Asher said. “At four thirty a.m. At the corner of Zimna Street and Żelazna Street.”
Tonight?
It was sooner than I had expected. Or wanted. I would have to climb over the wall in just a few hours’ time. And try not to get killed in the process.