Every part of him hurt. Ben ached like an escapee from a medieval torture chamber, and Alena and Natalie insisted he go to hospital, but he refused. He needed to be there when Freddie reappeared. An ambulance had taken him to the hotel, and a bellboy transported him by luggage trolley to the room. Although he suggested they continue looking, he wasn’t confident they would find him. The Nazis would not be the only danger the boy faced. And he felt guilty for not helping in the search.
Nothing broken. No wounds needing stitching. But his head throbbed as if Gene Krupa was using his skull as a drum. No, not that bad. More like a sledgehammer pounding on it. Perhaps he had concussion. Stabbing pains flashed through his body, and any movement almost paralysed him.
The thought of Freddie alone on the streets of New York filled him with trepidation as he had no knowledge of city life and its many evils. Maybe they had not gotten to him, but the alternative was as worrying. If Natalie’s Jewish contacts were still offering a haven, he believed they should now accept. It might be the only chance of getting them out of harm’s way.
There might be one other option. With difficulty, he struggled into a sitting position where he could pick up the telephone and placed an out-of-town call. If in luck, and the person on the other end agreed, it could buy them time.
As he replaced the receiver, he heard a knock. ‘Come in,’ he shouted. ‘It’s open.’
Natalie entered, panic crowding her face. And Alena followed, looking as though she had surrendered.
‘Freddie?’
Natalie’s look gave him his answer, and she waited for his reaction as he got to his feet, wincing in pain.
‘Gone.’ Alena made the sound of a wounded animal, and he wanted to reach out to her. ‘Nazis have got him; I’m sure of that.’ She tried to light a cigarette but failed and threw it on the floor in frustration. ‘He’s gone, we searched everywhere.’ She rubbed a hand across her face before slumping on the bed. Her head dropped, and her shoulders shook. ‘What will I do? What can I do?’ She wrung her hands as if dry-washing the dirt from them.
He sat beside her with Natalie on the other side, and Alena lifted her head, her vision blurred by tears. ‘I’ll never see him again.’
Putting an arm around her, he tried to calm her.
‘It’s over,’ she insisted and bent forward so that hair curtained her face. ‘They’ve won. I always knew they would.’
Natalie held her hand. ‘Don’t give up hope. He may have wandered off and will come back soon.’ She now regretted being with them as Alena’s grief weakened her plans for Freddie. If she had killed the boy, she would have been free to live the rest of her life in anonymity. If the Nazis picked him up, Solomon would terminate their agreement, and she would need to move fast to escape the attentions of the American security services.
‘Natalie’s probably right,’ he said and offered his most reassuring smile. ‘You know boys. All an adventure.’ He stared at her, wondering whether the words made any sense. ‘He’s gone exploring.’ But he believed none of it, and neither did Natalie.
For a moment, Alena stopped crying and looked up before tears washed away the hope, and she gripped the bedclothes so tight her knuckles turned white.
‘Natalie, please stay with Alena. I’ve got an idea where he might be.’
Once outside in the corridor, he collapsed against a wall. Every step, every movement hurt, and it felt as if someone were prising his rib cage apart.
He had no idea of Freddie’s whereabouts, but he must do something. And it might delay the moment when Alena came to accept her son was lost forever. He’d retrace his steps to Central Park hoping to find Freddie wandering around looking for them. If only he could put himself into a ten-year-old boy’s mind.
Making it to the elevator in a series of painful lunges, he let a crowded one go as the occupants might think him drunk. The high-pitched ping heralded the next, which was empty, and he stumbled in and leant against the side.
Typical of any New York hotel off Times Square, the lobby bustled with people coming and going. Bellboys in maroon uniforms and pillbox caps pushed luggage trolleys. Elevators regularly discharged more guests. Others loitered, waiting for friends or for their day to start.
And then he saw him.