Part 39 (1/2)

Unperturbed, von Puttkamer laughed. ”Well, you should sleep well then.”

”It will never happen again!” Franz exclaimed.

Von Puttkamer's frigid smile held firm. ”How can you be so sure?”

Franz reached into his pocket, pulled out the yellowing envelope and slid it across the table. Von Puttkamer eyed Franz warily before picking it up and extracting the photographs. Franz mentally flipped through the photos as von Puttkamer examined them. Together, they provided a clear picture of the b.o.o.by-trapped bombs outside the synagogue and the dead German bomber lying next to the temple wall.

Von Puttkamer stuffed the photographs back into the envelope and shoved it, spinning, back to Franz. ”So what? You have photographs. They prove nothing!”

”I believe they establish your intent quite clearly.”

”And even if they did?”

”Did you get permission to do this? From the j.a.panese?”

”Permission?” Von Puttkamer glanced incredulously over to his bodyguard. ”To rid ourselves of a blight on the good name of the fatherland?” He turned back to Franz. ”We do not need anyone's permission.”

”And yet you crept into the ghetto on Christmas Eve under the false pretense of delivering gifts,” Franz pointed out. ”What do you imagine the j.a.panese would think of such duplicity?”

”Who gives a d.a.m.n?”

”Do you not remember last year? When Josef Meisinger from the Gestapo came to the j.a.panese about attacking the Jews?”

Von Puttkamer reached for his gloves. ”What about him?”

”The j.a.panese banished Meisinger from Shanghai,” Franz said, though he knew it was not the whole truth. Jia-Li and Sunny had actually blackmailed Meisinger into leaving the city with photos of the colonel with a teenaged male prost.i.tute, snapped with a hidden camera at the Comfort Home. Franz saw the irony in the fact that, just a year later, they were again trying to deter the n.a.z.is with incriminating photographs.

”So fortune has smiled on you twice in one year.” Von Puttkamer smirked. ”Can you not see, Adler? You are merely delaying the inevitable.”

”I do not see it at all, Baron,” Franz said evenly. ”Especially now that Germany is losing the war.”

”We are losing nothing,” von Puttkamer snarled. ”In every long war, there are swings in momentum. It will swing back in the Reich's favour soon enough. Regardless, you Jews have already lost. Long ago.”

”And yet, we are still here.”

”For the time being.” Von Puttkamer shook a glove at him. ”If you think for one moment that you can blackmail me . . .”

Franz was relieved to hear the door chime again. He looked up and saw that the clock read 12:34. Ghoya strutted into the cafe, escorted by two soldiers. The small man looked around, appraising his seating options. As soon as Ghoya's gaze found them, he rushed over to their table.

”What have we here?” Ghoya's attention swung from Franz to von Puttkamer and back. ”A n.a.z.i and a Jew having coffee?” He laughed. ”A n.a.z.i and a Jew! What will come next? The sun out at night and the moon in the day?”

Von Puttkamer stood up and bowed his head. ”Good afternoon, Mr. Ghoya.”

”Baron von Puttkamer.” Ghoya bowed in turn, still laughing. ”Tonight I will look for the sun at midnight. I will. Yes, yes, I will!”

”Enjoy this while you can, Mr. Ghoya,” von Puttkamer said. ”I promise you, you will not witness this sight again.”

Ghoya squinted at Franz. ”What about all your talk of the n.a.z.is attacking the Designated Area? Now you meet them for coffee?” He turned back to von Puttkamer. ”The doctor told me you intended to bomb their church and their hospital.”

”Bomb them, indeed?” Von Puttkamer chortled uneasily. ”Such nonsense.”

”Yes, yes! That is just what I said.” Ghoya laughed again. ”Nonsense! My exact word was 'nonsense.'”

Heart pounding in antic.i.p.ation, Franz caught von Puttkamer's eye and slid the envelope very slightly toward Ghoya. The baron's brow creased, but Ghoya was oblivious, his gaze never leaving the other two men.

”These Jews. With their small worries and crazy ideas.” Ghoya flung up his hands in exasperation. ”Everyone is always after them! Yes?”

Continuing to inch the envelope forward, Franz held steady eye contact with von Puttkamer.

The baron hesitated and then nodded once crisply: a concession. ”Most paranoid, I agree, Mr. Ghoya.” Sighing heavily, von Puttkamer brought a hand to his chest. ”Regardless, I have just given the doctor my word that we will not bomb the Jews or hara.s.s them in any other way they might imagine. We have far more important concerns than their wretched little community.”

CHAPTER 53.

January 1, 1944 Sunny was bleeding when she woke up. Her period had arrived four days late, which was unusual: normally, she could have set a calendar by her cycle. The timing for a pregnancy couldn't have been much more disastrous, and she realized that she should have been overcome with relief. Still, as she washed herself, she felt tears threatening and she had to fight back sobs.

Sunny cried for more than just the end of a baby that might have been. The past year had been one of such terrible loss. Irma, Joey and Charlie were dead. Max and Wen-Cheng could be, too, for all she knew. Even Yang's status inside the internment camp was uncertain. As Sunny scrubbed the last traces of blood from her hands, she felt another twinge of guilt over the role she had played-inadvertent as it was-in their downfalls.

Brus.h.i.+ng her hair from her face, she dried her eyes and headed out of the bathroom to join the celebration.

Esther had promised them a traditional New Year's Day brunch. ”Just as my mother used to serve in Linz-only without all the delicacies, good cheer or optimism.” Esther's disclaimer notwithstanding, the scrumptious aromas of coffee, cinnamon and fried meat wafted through the flat. Usually, breakfast consisted of rice latkes or a pudding a.s.sembled from the previous night's sc.r.a.ps. Sunny's stomach rumbled in antic.i.p.ation as she headed into the main room.

Esther was a flurry of activity in the kitchen and kept insisting there was not enough s.p.a.ce for anyone to a.s.sist her. Hannah bounced Jakob on her lap and sang him a traditional nursery rhyme: ”Hoppe, hoppe, Reiter.” The boy cried in delight every time Hannah reached the end of the verse and dropped him between her knees, catching him by his wrists.

Franz reclined on the couch, fighting a smile as he watched them. Sunny dropped into the seat beside him. She couldn't remember when she had seen her husband so relaxed or contented. She wouldn't hide the truth from him again, but deciding her news could wait, she reached for his hand and slipped her fingers between his.

Hannah was swinging Jakob between her legs when the door flew open. Ernst bustled into the flat with a bottle tucked underneath his arm. ”Prosit Neujahr!” he cried. ”Happy New Year!”

Hannah lowered Jakob to the floor and hopped up to greet him. ”What have you brought us, Onkel Ernst?”

Ernst pulled the magnum from under his arm and shrugged with false humility. ”This? It's nothing. Surely everyone should celebrate the New Year with a sip or two of bubbly?”

Franz shook his head. ”Where on earth did you find it?”

”While I might reside in Hitler-dorf-squarely in the heart of the Dark Ages-mercifully, Frenchtown is not too far away. At the Cafe Palais. I traded a sketch of the proprietor's charming wife for this equally charming champagne. A good year, too-'38.”

Franz glanced over at Sunny with a tender smile. ”The year we met.”

”Your timing is impeccable, Ernst,” Esther called from over her shoulder. ”You will join us for brunch.” It was not a question.

He heaved a mock sigh. ”Oh, if you insist, Essie.”