Part 22 (1/2)
Franz leaned closer to the boy. ”What exactly is she holding for you?”
Freddy's head twitched again. ”She has one of my books. For homework. I can do without it for another day.” He backed away from the door. ”My parents are expecting me home for dinner.”
Esther slipped between Franz and Sunny, only stopping when she was inches away from Freddy. ”Where did Hannah get that money, Freddy?” Her voice was frantic.
”Money?” Freddy grimaced. ”I don't know what you mean.”
Esther grabbed him by the elbow. ”This coat, it's brand new.”
Freddy tried to shrug his arm free, but she hung onto it. ”My parents bought this for me. It was a birthday gift.”
”Was your family not living in a heim only last year, Fritsch?” Esther replied angrily. ”The five dollars Hannah gave me. What do you know about it?”
Franz turned to Esther with a grimace. ”Five dollars? What nonsense are you talking, Essie?”
Esther didn't take her eyes off the boy. ”You know where that money came from, don't you?”
Freddy's face reddened and he looked away. ”I have nothing to do with it.”
”I don't believe you,” Esther said. ”If something has happened to her and you are somehow responsible . . .”
Franz lunged forward. He grabbed Freddy's lapels and shoved him back against the hallway wall. ”Is Hannah in trouble?”
”I . . . I don't know,” Freddy grunted. ”She never came back.”
”Came back from where?”
”Frenchtown.”
”Frenchtown?” Franz gasped. ”Why did Hannah leave the ghetto?”
”You should ask her.”
”Tell me!” Franz shouted, tightening his grip on the boy's collar.
”Cigarettes,” Freddy croaked.
”What was Hannah doing with cigarettes?”
”Bringing them back. To sell in the ghetto.”
Esther took her head in her hands. ”Smuggling? You forced Hannah to smuggle for you?”
Freddy struggled to shake his head. ”We never forced her!”
Franz shoved Freddy aside and headed down the hallway. Sunny raced after him. ”Where are you going?” she called.
”To Ghoya's office!” Franz said without slowing. ”They must have her!”
They were panting when they reached the Bureau of Stateless Refugee Affairs. Despite the late hour, a line of refugees waiting to apply for exit pa.s.ses spilled out the front door and onto the street. Franz bolted past the queue, ignoring the cries and complaints of the people in line. Sunny followed him as he elbowed his way down the narrow corridor and burst into Ghoya's office.
An older man who stood cowering in front of the desk spun around in surprise. A soldier rushed inside after Sunny and Franz. Ghoya leaned back in his chair, watching the commotion with an amused grin. He waved the soldier out of the office before he turned to the old man. ”No pa.s.s for you today. Go. Go. Leave me now!”
As the old man scuttled out of the room, Ghoya turned his attention to Franz. ”I believe I know why you have come here, Dr. Adler. Yes, yes. I believe I do.”
”Mr. Ghoya, please, sir,” Franz said as he approached the desk. ”Where is my daughter, Hannah?”
Ghoya motioned to the ceiling. ”Right here, Dr. Adler. We have her. Right here.”
Franz clasped his hands together. ”May I see her, Mr. Ghoya? Please.”
Ghoya leaned back and patted his belly contentedly. ”Such a big lunch today. Do you know the Cafe Aaronsohn?”
Franz gaped at him, bewildered. ”On Tong Shan Road?”
”Yes, yes! Mr. Aaronsohn and me, we have an understanding.” Ghoya nodded knowingly. ”I eat lunch there. Every day at twelve thirty. They feed me; I sign his wife's pa.s.s. She buys their supplies on Nanking Road.” He laughed again. ”A good deal for everyone. The wife, she needs a pa.s.s. And me? I need lunch.”
”Mr. Ghoya, I have to-”
”Today I had such a big plate of gebratenes.” Ghoya butchered the Yiddish word. ”Too much, too much! But the chicken was so good. The Aaronsohns, they cook good chicken.”
Franz held out a hand imploringly. ”Mr. Ghoya, about Hannah . . .”
Ghoya shook his head repeatedly. ”Do you know what your daughter has been up to? Do you?”
”I have heard only just now.”
Ghoya put his hands on the desk and launched himself to his feet. ”I warned you,” he cried as he raced around the desk toward them. ”Did I not tell you? The smuggling must stop!”
Sunny stepped forward. ”She is just a girl, Mr. Ghoya. She didn't know what she was doing.”
”Who are you, woman?” Ghoya demanded.
Sunny reached for Franz's hand and squeezed his damp palm. ”I am Mrs. Adler.”
Ghoya turned to Franz, his face scrunched up. ”This? This is your wife? You are not married to a Jewess? But the girl-she has no Chinese in her.”
”Hannah's mother is dead. Mrs. Adler is my second wife. Mr. Ghoya, please, Hannah is only a child-”
Ghoya raised a finger and let it sail up over his head. ”Child or not. This must stop! Examples must be set.”
Franz thrust out his hands in surrender. ”Then take me instead. Let me be the example.”
”No, no, no!” Ghoya shook his head wildly. ”The girl is the smuggler. We must punish her.”
”Mr. Ghoya, I put Hannah up to this!” Franz cried. ”She didn't want to do it, but I insisted. The cigarettes were for me to sell. You see, Hannah doesn't need a pa.s.s to leave the ghetto, so I-”