Heidegger's Glasses_ A Novel Part 6

La Toya winked at Gitka, who winked back. Stumpf caught the wink and was furious.

Wink all you want, he said. There's another mouth to feed.

Dear Mother,I don't know where you and father are, but I am writing home hoping that you will get this. Marc and I are fine and there is plenty of food. If you and father come, we will all be together again.Love,Pia Wolfgang Maulhaufer, the Compound's engineer, had been so overjoyed about finding an underground stream to handle waste, he'd forgotten to supply the Compound with fresh water. And Thorsten Ungeheur, the interior designer, had more elegant concerns than drinking or was.h.i.+ng.

So the Compound's only fresh water supply was the well for the original mine. It was at the edge of the forest, about nine meters from the shepherd's hut. Before Germany lost Stalingrad, twelve guards had carried the day's water supply in buckets. But after Stalingrad, every guard except Lars Eisenscher had been sent to the front. Lars and Lodenstein couldn't bring enough water on their own for everyone in the Compound. And Stumpf and Mueller thought the task was beneath them.

So in late spring of 1943 Scribes began to bring water themselves, with only Lars to watch them. This upset Stumpf, but he couldn't disagree with Lodenstein when he said the Compound was the safest place at this stage of the war, and no one would try to escape.

The first time the Scribes went to the well there had been a great sense of celebration. Sophie Nachtgarten, whose claustrophobia sometimes made her walk the cobblestone street for hours, said it was the first time in months she'd been able to breathe. Ferdinand La Toya and Gitka Kapusinki did a mazurka. Parvis Nafissian and Sonia Markova lay at the edge of the forest.

Now, almost a year later, going to the well was so routine most Scribes took fresh air for granted-except for Sophie Nachtgarten, who bribed Lars with cigarettes so she could come up as many times as she wanted. Other Scribes carried water twice a day, usually in pairs.

But after Stumpf announced the arrival of a girl who would answer letters from children, Gitka Kapusinki, Ferdinand La Toya, Sophie Nachtgarten, and Parvis Nafissian took turns holding a pail. Gitka wore a bright red scarf over a black fur coat from an indeterminate animal and smoked a cigarette from a long cigarette holder. La Toya smoked a cigar and wore a long black coat, which made him look like a piece of topiary because he was tall. Sophie wore a green embroidered scarf over a blue velvet jacket-she hated the confinement of warm clothes. And Parvis Nafissian, who combed his immaculate beard with water from the well, wore a bomber jacket and carried a mirror. They crunched over the ice and talked.

What an a.s.shole, said Gitka, meaning Stumpf.

He had to get someone to write that letter, said La Toya. And I think it's Mikhail.

He'd never do anything for Stumpf, said Sophie.

How else can you explain it? said La Toya. Suddenly a kid's at the Solomons' and Stumpf announces it. I bet the two of them made a deal. And it started with Heidegger's wife.

How do you know? said Nafissian.

Elie told me, said La Toya. Her name is Elfriede. Elfriede Heidegger.

The name sounded funny. They laughed.

Elie says she's quite the hausfrau, said La Toya. Blond braids around her head. A Party member in good standing.

How does Elie know? said Nafissian.

La Toya shrugged. The other three understood. Sometimes Elie alluded to her past, never mentioning names. Now and then dusk would remind her of dinner with her family. Or the smell of fresh ink and paper of being a student at Freiburg. She never told anyone her real last name. Or that she had a younger sister she missed every day. But they all knew a small part of who Elie was before she came to the Compound and were relieved they'd never read Heidegger closely and would find it hard to answer the letter.

His wife bothered Goebbels so much, said La Toya, they had a meeting. So now Goebbels has another mission here-a letter to the living.

They'd come to the well and stopped to look at the woods and drink water from the tin dipper. Sophie waved at Lars Eisenscher who was keeping watch near the forest.

How awful that the woods are so frightening, she said. When I was a child, the woods were amazing in winter.

They could get more frightening if Mikhail tries to answer that letter, said Nafissian. Heidegger's no fool-he'll see through something fake. Maybe we should have tried to answer it, after all.

We would have made a mess of it, said Sophie. And Mikhail's studied Heidegger, so his letter won't seem fake.

Gitka and Nafissian stopped to light more cigarettes; La Toya relit his cigar. The wind rose at their backs as they took turns carrying the bucket to the Compound. Nafissian said it created the impression they were traveling.

Don't be ridiculous, said La Toya, n.o.body travels here.

If the wind blows hard enough, they will, said Nafissian.

Let's make a run for it, said Gitka, laughing.

To where? said La Toya.

To the end of the world, said Gitka.

Dearest Bendykta,I don't have much time to write because I have to work. Please come quickly.In haste and love,Lucas Dieter Stumpf never had any intention of getting Mikhail's niece himself because if he went to a safe house, he might be recognized and shot. Besides, it was more important to be sure as many dead as possible received answers to their letters. So he asked Elie Schacten to get the girl.

Her name is Maria, he said, handing her the address of the safe house, and a note to her from Mikhail. And Mikhail will write the letter if we get her. You know Mikhail. Always a bargain.

Of course I'll get her, Dieter, Elie said.

I knew you would. You rescue everyone.

I'm only doing this for you, said Elie.

Stumpf leaned close and basked in her tea-rose perfume.

Let's keep it between us for now, he said, touching Elie's arm. Lodenstein doesn't give a d.a.m.n about this letter, and he hates bargains. He might try to stop you.

Elie, who had already decided that more than one bargain was at stake, agreed. She went upstairs and told Lodenstein there was an influx of mail at the outpost. Then she held out her wrist so he could tie the red silk ribbon.

Do you think this place runs by itself? he said.

No, said Elie. What makes you think that?

Because sometimes you act like it does. I wonder if you know how many notes I send Goebbels to make him happy. Dear Goebbels: We love your stories about winning the war. Keep them up. And your denials about the Final Solution are breathtaking. Dear Goebbels: We love your stories about winning the war. Keep them up. And your denials about the Final Solution are breathtaking.

I'll bring you something special, said Elie.

Just come back, said Lodenstein.

He walked her to her jeep, and she drove off on the unpaved road. It was treacherously slick. But when she turned to the paved road, she wasn't relieved because there were other cars, and no rescue was without danger. On her last foray, Elie had hidden three children under a marble statue covered with blankets. Everything had gone smoothly until an SS officer at the Swiss border began to uncover the statue. Elie said it was for Frisch-a banker she thought he'd know. He pressed her arm, she pressed back, and an erotic current pa.s.sed between them. Go! he'd said. And go quickly!

She kept looking in the rearview mirror-an endless stretch of road and cars. She felt remorse about lying to Lodenstein and was haunted by a vision of him running to keep up with her.

Maria's safe house was in a town due south of the Compound and-to Elie's relief-she had to take a road that forked off the main highway. She drove by farms and a dense forest, where she saw a man and a child behind a tree. She thought about the Angel of Auschwitz who had bargained a laboratory for a life. She wondered if a letter could do the same.

The town with the safe house was a patchwork of commerce and neglect, like other towns that hadn't been bombed beyond recognition at this stage of the war. It dipped into dilapidated structures then bloomed into islands of prosperity. One street had boarded-up buildings throbbing with misery. Another had elegant shops. Yet another had a train station where people held suitcases. They were dressed in good coats, but Elie knew in less than a week they'd be wearing striped uniforms. She parked the jeep in a crowded section and began to walk. A jeep with a swastika in front of a safe house would attract attention.

Light snow began to fall-swirls of white on grey. The streets widened, narrowed, widened again, expanding and contracting, as though they were breathing. Nothing felt quite real to Elie-not the sky, or the air, or a coffeehouse where customers drank from incongruously large cups of ersatz coffee. People hurried by, surrounded by pale grey air-the only thing that seemed to hold them together. Elie pa.s.sed a muddy street with a chain-link fence followed by a row of prosperous houses. The town was breaking up, and she felt she was breaking up with it. It began to snow thickly, surrounding everyone in white. We're only bound by veils We're only bound by veils, Elie thought, fragile accidents of cohesion fragile accidents of cohesion.

No one was quite visible in this snow, and for a moment Elie imagined she saw her sister. She wore a dark red coat and kept her hands in a white m.u.f.f. She smiled then disappeared.

Near the outskirts, streets were arranged in a circular pattern. Elie pa.s.sed grey row houses, brick buildings, more row houses. The last were close to where Maria was hidden. But before she made the last turn, a Gestapo officer stopped her, said he'd lost his watch, and asked the time. Her heart began to race, and her answer-Fourteen hours and twenty minutes-sounded like a confession. He thanked her and asked if he could help find an address. Elie said no, she was just taking a walk. He asked for her papers-she was aware of his fleshy hands-and was confused when she showed him the red silk ribbon.

What are you doing at the outskirts? he asked.

I work with Goebbels, said Elie. And I'd be shot if I told you more.

The Gestapo officer shook his head. Goebbels would never shoot such a beautiful woman. Only the undesirables: shot or guillotined. Take your pick.

He laughed when he said Take your pick Take your pick and told Elie she reminded him of his wife. Then he took her arm and walked with her far away from the row houses, to a city park where the bare branches of a linden tree were covered with ice. They walked to a statue of Hitler, then slowly around the park. Eventually the Gestapo officer looked at the watch he'd never lost and said: and told Elie she reminded him of his wife. Then he took her arm and walked with her far away from the row houses, to a city park where the bare branches of a linden tree were covered with ice. They walked to a statue of Hitler, then slowly around the park. Eventually the Gestapo officer looked at the watch he'd never lost and said: My G.o.d. I'll be shot if I don't get back to my post.

Elie had to retrace the circular path near dusk. She knocked on the door of a red brick building four times-the way Stumpf told her. A wiry man in dark clothes stuck out his head.

What's the code? he said.

Falling, said Elie.

He nodded and led her to a musty hall that smelled of very old carpet and mashed potatoes. It opened to a dark underground pa.s.sage, and he glided her through the black maze like a nocturnal animal. Then he opened a door to another building and handed Elie a flashlight.

Go out into a hall, he said. Knock on the first door to the left, wait three beats, and knock three times. Leave by this pa.s.sage and keep the flashlight. I've learned to see in the dark.

Elie surfaced to another musty hall. She knocked on the door to the left, waited three beats, and knocked three times. After a pause that seemed interminable, a startlingly beautiful girl answered. She had blond hair, blue eyes-delicate Aryan features, Elie thought, that had probably saved her life. She looked at Elie with deep distrust. Elie reached out her arms.

Maria, she said. You're safe with me.

Maria pulled away, and Elie, who realized she wanted proof of her intentions, showed her the papers she carried and a note from Mikhail. As soon as Maria saw these, she smiled and held out her arms. Elie took bread from her bag. Maria shook her head.

I've been in that crawl s.p.a.ce for months, she said. I just want to get outside.

Elie looked at her dress-made of thin cotton. And at her shoes. They were summer sandals.

No one gave you a sweater or boots? said Elie. Or a coat? Did you walk like that through the streets?

I'll manage with a dress and stockings.

In the snow? The SS would arrest you in a minute.

There was a closet in the hall-so long Elie wondered if it led to the street. It was filled with china, silverware, records, photographs. Deep inside, Elie found a pair of st.u.r.dy shoes, a thick sweater, a scarf, and a black coat with a fur collar. She pulled out the coat. And behind it, shrinking against the wall of the closet, she saw a little boy of about seven. He had large, frightened eyes and sat so still he could have been made of stone.

What's your name? Elie whispered. He didn't answer. She took him in her arms and brought him to the room.

My G.o.d. Where did he come from?

He was in the closet, said Elie.

All this time, said Maria. And I never heard him.

The empty apartment had French windows covered with sheer white cloth. They filled the room with airy light, creating a sense of high alt.i.tude, even at dusk. Elie sat on the floor with the little boy in her arms. He began to tremble.

What's your name? she whispered again.

He shook his head and buried himself in the crook of Elie's arm.

He's scared, said Maria.

How about we give you a name? said Elie. Do you like Alberto?

To her surprise, he shook his head no.

What about Sergei? said Maria.

He shook his head no to Sergei-and also to Luca and three other names. But when Elie said Dimitri Dimitri he nodded. he nodded.

Is that your real name? she said.

He shook his head no and dove back into Elie's arm.

Dimitri, she said. We're going to go out now. I'll wrap you in some blankets and carry you. And if anyone asks, we'll say you aren't feeling well.

Do you understand? she asked Maria.

Maria, who seemed glamorous in the coat with the fur collar, nodded. Of course she understood.

The town was almost in blackout when they left the safe house. Elie carried Dimitri carefully, and Maria reveled in the open air. More than once she looked at her reflection in a shop window.

Don't look at anything, said Elie. And don't stare at people holding suitcases!

When they came to the jeep, Elie put Dimitri in gently and covered them both with blankets. Dimitri was as still as Maria had been under the floorboards. But Maria looked from beneath the blanket so often, Elie told her that she could come out if she crouched under the window. It got darker, the road narrowed, the pines grew thick, and Elie's fear of the dark began to grip her. She tried to quell it by telling stories she and her sister once told under a dark red comforter at night. They were about wolves who granted wishes or snow maidens who could talk. She started to feel safe until Maria said: Do you really believe all that?

I used to, said Elie.

I never did.

Maybe you should start to, said Elie.

When they hit the unpaved road, and the car began to jolt, Elie realized she didn't know where Dimitri would sleep. Or what she'd say to Lodenstein when he discovered them.

Max,You must be surprised that I was able to smuggle this to you. "Good" guards. Come to the edge of the barracks. We can talk there.Nyikolaj If only the landscape were rearranged, Elie thought. A wide road, telephone lines, lit houses. I could knock on wide road, telephone lines, lit houses. I could knock on any door, and people I never met would let the girl stay with them. Beyond the houses she'd find the streets of her childhood where she and her sister jumped rope and teased boys. And beyond those streets she'd find the convent where they made other girls laugh by imitating Sister Ignatius who had a nervous cough and Sister Hildegard who licked chalk from her fingers. You're headstrong You're headstrong, her father always said when they got their knuckles rapped. You never try to imagine how things will turn out. You never try to imagine how things will turn out.

That's not true, Elie thought. We were only bored. She saw her sister's face. It was attentive, alert. It held her with her eyes.

What are you thinking? asked Maria.

How beautiful the woods are, said Elie.

They are, said Maria. But anyone could come out of those trees and shoot us.

They won't, said Elie.

The car skidded on ice and curved into the clearing, miraculously empty of people. The shepherd's hut was the only shape in the snow-a dark mound, silhouetted by moonlight. Elie carried Dimitri down the stone path to the hut and Maria followed. The door to the incline didn't startle her-it was clear she understood camouflage. Nor did she seem confused when Elie rushed her past the room she shared with Lodenstein. But Maria was astonished by the cobblestone street and frozen sky.