Mila 18 - Leon Uris

Kleperman was way ahead of Koenig. He looked over his shoulder to see if the guards had miraculously disappeared. They hadn’t. The hutzpah, the gall of Koenig to sit there with this holier-than-thou attitude when it was he, Kleperman, who set up most of the deals for the Germans. They had wallowed together in the muck, and now Koenig was going into an act of righteousness. Nothing on earth was worse than a righteous thief!

“As Kommissar of Jewish property,” Koenig said, “I am appalled at the state of the affairs conducted by you. You have blatantly betrayed the trust of the occupation authorities.”

Think fast! Max Kleperman, you are in a bad position. His brain raced. He’d have to go for a deal. He’d play with the Swiss money and save the South American money. No one knew about the South American money.

“I am in a bad bargaining position,” Max smiled.

“I thought you would comprehend the situation.”

“But, as always, Max Kleperman is a reasonable man.”

Max nodded in the direction of the SS men. Koenig ordered them to wait outside.

“Now, Kleperman, let’s make a clean breast. How much do you have sitting in Swiss banks, and which banks?”

“I have forty thousand dollars on demand,” Max confided.

“Which banks?”

Max wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

“May I conclude, Herr Doktor, that the various contracts between you and the Big Seven are about to be terminated?”

“You may conclude whatever you wish to conclude.”

Max cleared his throat and leaned over the desk to dispense a great confidence. “The fact is, I have a few dollars more. Fifty thousand. Frankly, I am weary of business. I should like to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Now—we make a final deal. I’ll sign half this money to you now and half when I arrive in Bern with my family.”

Koenig rocked in his chair and smiled tightly. “Ready to jump ship, eh, Max.”

Max winked.

“How about your partners?”

“Believe me, I’ve tolerated those thieves as long as it is humanly possible. I think this is a reasonable way for two honorable men to end a long and fruitful association.”

“But, Max, how will you live?”

“Somehow, I’ll struggle by.”

“Perhaps with the money in the National Bank in Geneva?”

“Oh—oh yes, I did have an account there.”

“And the Bank of South America in Buenos Aires, and the Grain Exchange in Rio de Janeiro.”

“Herr, Herr, Herr ... ”

Koenig spread six documents before Kleperman and handed him a pen. “Just sign these, Mr. Kleperman. We will fill in the details.”

Max’s face twitched violently. A belch of misplaced cigar smoke gagged him. “The other partners have money over the border too. If I sign these papers and give you the information on them, do I get a passport?”

Koenig smiled. “You’ve made yourself a deal.”

Max scrawled his signature on the papers, giving away over two hundred thousand ill-earned dollars. Droplets of sweat dripped on the transfers as he signed.

“When I arrive in Switzerland I will give you the information on the others.”

Koenig nodded. “We knew we could depend on your co-operation, Max. You will receive information about your departure shortly.”

Max was sick, but he still had his life. The pair of SS men led him out of Koenig’s palace. He had money in eight banks. There were two places that that righteous thief Koenig had not discovered. Max flopped in the back seat of his car, removed his hat, and fanned himself and groaned.

His eyes bulged in terror! His cigar fell from his mouth. His chauffeur had been replaced by an SS man, and his bodyguard was gone. Before he could budge, a pair of SS were on either side of him and the car whisked out of the driveway. It stopped six minutes later at the entrance to the Jewish cemetery.

Max was white with terror at the sight of Sturmbannführer Sieghold Stutze. The SS men had to help him walk. Stutze tapped a length of pipe in his open palm as Max was dragged before him. Kleperman took off his hat. “Your excellency, Sturmbannführer ... I ... I ...”

Stutze spoke. “I wanted to be here for you personally, Kleperman. You are the filthiest of all the filthy Jews. I have always admired that ring of yours. No, don’t bother to give it to me now. I’ll get it after the execution.”

“Ah, then ... you did not receive the word. Dr. Koenig and I made a deal. You are in for a hundred thousand dollars ... you see ...”

“Shut up. You didn’t really think we would let you out of Poland with what you know?”

“My lips are sealed. I swear it.”

“You don’t have to swear it. We are going to seal them for you.”

Six powerful hands gripped him. He dropped to his knees. They began to drag him.

“Wait!” the Austrian said. “Let him crawl.”

“Excellency. There is more money. I didn’t tell Koenig. You ... me ... a private deal ...”

The lead pipe caught Kleperman behind the ear. He pitched face down on the dirt and crawled to Stutze and threw his arms around his knees. “Mercy! Mercy! Mercy for Max Kleperman!”

The pipe came down and down, again, again, again, until Max’s face was squashed like an overripe watermelon. Stutze broke into a sweat. He kicked with his gimpy leg and screamed and ranted until he had exhausted himself on the blood orgy and had to be held upright by his SS troopers.

Max Kleperman’s lifeless body was dragged down the long path lined with desecrated grave markers to the west wall and unceremoniously flung into a ditch twenty feet long and twelve feet deep.

Along the edge of the ditch the partners and fifty members of the Big Seven were lined up. They cried, begged, bartered. Below them, Kleperman lay in a bed of lime.

Some fell to their knees and cried for God and for mother. Whoremasters, thieves, informers.

“Mercy!”

“Fire!”

The sound of rifle fire was a cliché within these walls. The Jewish gravediggers watched impassively as the bodies plunged to the bottom of the ditch and stared up at them from grotesque positions. The firing squad advanced to the edge of the ditch and poured gunfire into the twitching bodies until they were still. Shovels of lime were spread. Another batch of Big Seven people was hauled in.

PROCLAMATION!

IT HAS BEEN DISCOVERED THAT THE BIO SEVEN COMPANY HAS BEEN GUILTY OF INNUMERABLE CRIMES AND WERE THE MAIN PERPETRATORS OF MUCH OF THE JEWISH SUFFERING. IN THE NAME OF COMMON JUSTICE THE GERMAN AUTHORITIES HAVE DISPOSED OF THESE CRIMINALS AFTER INVESTIGATIONS AND TRIALS.

AS OF THIS DATE ALL FURTHER DEPORTATIONS ARE CANCELED. SPECIAL SCHOOLS MAY REOPEN AND AUTHORIZED PUBLIC MEETINGS WITHIN THE GHETTO ARE PERMITTED. THE CURFEW IS AGAIN EXTENDED TO 7 P.M.

BY ORDER

RUDOLPH SCHREIKER

KOMMISSAR, DISTRICT OF WARSAW

Chapter Eleven

RACHAEL THUMBED THROUGH A stack of sheet music, selected several numbers, and slipped on her Star of David armband. Deborah, dressed in a gown and robe, entered the room, yawning and stretching.

“Are you certain it is safe to give a recital today? I feel uneasy about it.”

“Momma, there haven’t been any deportations for four days. Ervin is arranging programs all over the ghetto to get people’s minds off the past three weeks. Besides, I’ll be playing at your orphanage on Niska and nothing will happen there.”

“Well, I suppose it is all right.”

“I may see Wolf today. It’s been ten days.”

Deborah fussed with her daughter’s hair. “I wish you wouldn’t go to Andrei’s.”

“We can’t any more, Momma. It’s being watched all the time.”

“You can come here. Your father won’t be home till late.”