Greg Iles - Black Cross

The guard barely glanced at the papers; again the SD uniform and rank were enough. Stern was through the gate in less time than it would take to light a cigarette.

“Standartenführer?”

Stern laid one hand on his Schmeisser as he turned.

“You’ll need this.”

The sentry hurried over and handed him a battery torch.

Stern nodded a curt thank-you, then stepped up into the block.

The room was totally dark. He switched on the flashlight, held it at arm’s length and shined it on his own face.

“I am the shoemaker’s son,” he whispered. “I have returned. Is my father here?”

“My son!” The answer was a joyous whisper.

“Light the candle,” Jonas commanded. “Hurry!”

There was a rustling of clothes in the darkness. A hooded yellow glow illuminated a circle on the floor. A shadow passed in front of the light, and Stern felt arms go around him and squeeze tightly. Raw emotion surged through him, so strong that he almost couldn’t bear it. All he could think of was his mother sitting alone in her tiny flat in Palestine.

“How do you do it?” Avram Stern asked. “How do you get past them?”

“Never mind. I must speak to you. Bring everyone close around me. Quickly.”

“Rachel!” Avram said sharply. “Form the Circle.”

Stern sensed a great many movements around him, like leaves in a night forest. As the women drew closer, he backed against the door. He tried to make the movement seem natural, but he did it to block the escape route of anyone who panicked.

His father and Rachel Jansen stood closest to him. The other faces were a mixture of young and old, a human map of Europe.

“Listen to me,” he said in Yiddish. “I must speak to you, and we have very little time. What I told you before was not completely true. I came here from Palestine, but not to verify reports of Nazi atrocities. I came here to help prepare for a great strike against Hitler.

“You all know what the Nazis are making here at this camp. They have tested it on people you knew, perhaps even family members. You know how deadly this gas is. I don’t need to tell any of you how devastating it would be to the troops who will soon land in France to liberate Europe. It is for that reason that the Allies intend to kill Herr Doktor Brandt and destroy his laboratory.”

There was a sudden wind of whispers. Stern gazed into the shocked faces. As much as he wanted to, he could not tell these women the truth. “In approximately forty minutes,” he said, “Totenhausen Camp is going be attacked from the air.”

Several women gasped.

“The shells that fall will be chemical shells, filled with a gas much like the one made here.” Stern took a step closer to the women. He realized that he had been silently counting them. There were forty-four, plus his father. “Anyone unprotected from this gas will probably be killed during the attack. I have come here to suggest a way that many of you might be able to survive it.”

“Why have you really come here?” asked a woman from the back. “The Allies don’t care if we live or die.”

Stern turned up his palms. “I am a Jew, not an Allied soldier. I fight for Haganah in Palestine. I fight for Israel. I have risked my life to come here. Will you listen?”

“We will listen,” Rachel said.

“The only protection from this gas is complete isolation. The bombs will fall at eight o’clock. Ten minutes before that, you must move from here to the E-Block and lock yourselves inside. It is imperative—”

“The E-Block?” someone said. “There are more than two hundred prisoners in this camp. The E-Block would not even hold all of us here.”

“I realize that,” Stern said carefully.

The women looked at each other in puzzlement.

“What are you saying, my son?” Avram asked.

“I am saying that not everyone can be saved.”

There was a long silence.

“What about the bomb shelter?” someone asked. “All prisoners could fit in there.”

Jonas shook his head. “The SS are trained to run for the shelter during an emergency. Prisoners trying to take shelter there would be shot out of hand.” He did not say that if things were working out properly, the SS shelter was already booby-trapped.

A middle-aged woman stood up in the center of the group. “Who claims the right that is God’s alone?” she asked. “Who would say who shall live and who shall die?”

Stern closed his hand around the Schmeisser. This would be the mad minute, as each woman grasped exactly what he was suggesting.

“I’m glad there are no rabbis here,” said a very old woman from the floor. “What an endless argument we would have to listen to. Sometimes one must follow the heart. And common sense.”

“And what does common sense say here?” asked the woman who had stood.

“It is simple,” said the old woman, speaking with calm certainty. “This camp is like a sinking ship. The E-Block is the lifeboat. There is a law for that. Unwritten perhaps, but sacred. Everyone knows it. Women and children first. And the young women before the old. The ones still able to bear children.”

These words silenced the block.

“You speak wisely,” Avram said to the old woman. “It is not an easy thing to do. But necessary.”

Another woman stood up suddenly. “What are you saying?” she asked in a French accent. “That we should save ourselves but ignore the Gentile women?”

“They’ve ignored us long enough,” said a bitter voice.

“And the children? Do we let the Christian children die? And what of the men? They have no right to live?”

“Of course they do,” said the old woman. “But they do not have the duty to choose . That has fallen on us. We cannot take the opinion of every prisoner in camp. The secret could not be kept. It was wise of this young man to wait until the last minute to tell us.”

“You knew about this attack two nights ago?” asked the Frenchwoman.

“Of course he did,” said another.

Avram raised his hands. “Let me speak, please. With only minutes, we would only cause a general riot by telling the other blocks. The fact is that the E-Block is the only shelter, and it will only hold a few.”

One of the women Rachel called the new widows stood hesitantly. “My daughter is in the children’s block,” she said in an almost inaudible voice. “If we are going to die, I want to be with her.”

“We can save the children,” Jonas said. “And some of you. But we must hurry and decide the issue.”

“ Some of us?” It was the Frenchwoman again. “You can’t even save all the children! Now you’re going to condemn some of us?”

“Keep your voice down,” Jonas said sharply.

“How many?” asked a familiar voice. It was Rachel Jansen. “How many people can be saved in the E-Block? I have been inside it, and it is very small.”

“The E-Block was designed to conduct tests on ten men,” Jonas said. “The number that can be saved is determined by space and oxygen. They’ll need at least two hours of air.”

“How many?” Rachel asked again. “That’s all we need to know.”

Stern nodded, grateful for her pragmatism. “Fifty children,” he said. “Every child in the Jewish Children’s Block.”

“And women?”

He hesitated. “Thirty-five.”

In the tomblike silence that followed, he looked at his watch: 7:23. It was taking too long. He removed the British silencer from his boot and screwed it onto the Schmeisser’s barrel. “Talk among yourselves,” he said. “I must speak to my father alone. But I warn you: if anyone tries to go through that door, I will have no choice but to shoot.”

He took his father’s hand and led him into the darkness beyond the circle of women.