In the Balance (65 page)

I should have seen that sooner
, Russie thought. Yet he could not blame himself for what he’d done before. His own people were dying then, and he’d helped save them. As so often happened, though, the short-term solution was proving part of a long-term problem.

“Please answer me,
Herr
Russie,” Zolraag said sharply.

“How can I answer now?” Russie pleaded. “You put me between impossible choices. I must have time to think.”

“I will give you one day,” the governor said with the air of one making a great concession. “Past that time, I shall have no more patience with these delaying tactics.”

“Yes, Your Excellency; thank you, Your Excellency.” Russie scurried out of Zolraag’s office before the Lizard got the bright idea of attaching a couple of guards to him. Whatever invidious comparisons he’d drawn, he had to recognize that the invaders were less efficient occupiers than the Nazis had been.

What do I do now?
he wondered as he went back out into the cold.
If I praise the Lizards for bombing Washington, I deserve an assassin’s bullet. If I don’t …

He thought of killing himself to escape Zolraag’s demands. That would save his wife and son. But he did not want to die; he’d survived too much to throw away his life, if any other way was open, he would seize it.

He was not surprised to find his feet taking him toward Mordechai Anielewicz’s headquarters. If anyone could help him, the Jewish fighting leader was the man. Trouble was, he didn’t know if anyone could help him.

The armed guards outside the headquarters came, if not to attention, then at least to respectful alertness as he approached. He had no trouble getting in to see Anielewicz. The fighter took one look at his face and said, “What’s the Lizard said he’s going to do to you?”

“Not to me, to my family.” Russie told the story in a few words.

Anielewicz swore. “Let’s go for a walk,
Reb
Moishe. I have the feeling they can listen to whatever we say in here.”

“All right.” Russie went out into the street again. Warsaw this winter, even outside the former ghetto, was depressingly drab. Smoke from soft-coal and wood fires hung over the city, tinting both clouds and scattered snow a dingy brown. Trees that would be green and lovely in summer now
reached toward the sky bare branches that reminded Russie of skeletons’ arms and fingers. Piles of rubble were everywhere, swarmed over by antlike Poles and Jews out to take away what they could.

“So,” Anielewicz said abruptly. “What did you have in mind to do?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. We expected this would happen, and now it has. But I thought they would strike only at me, not at Rivka and Reuven.” Russie rocked back and forth on his heels, as if mourning lost chances.

Anielewicz’s eyes were hooded. “They’re learning. They aren’t stupid by any means, just naive. All right, here’s what it comes down to: do you want to disappear, do you want your family to disappear, or should you all vanish at the same time? I’ve set up plans for each case, but I need to know which to run.”

“What I would like,” Russie said, “is for the Lizards to disappear.”

“Ha.” Anielewicz gave that exactly as much laughter as it deserved. “A wolf was devouring us, so we called in a tiger. The tiger isn’t eating us right now, but we are still made of meat, so he’s not a good neighbor to have, either.”

“Neighbor? Landlord, you mean,” Russie said. “And he will eat my family if I don’t throw myself into his mouth.”

“I asked you once already how you want to keep from doing that?”

“I can’t afford to disappear,” Russie said reluctantly; he would have liked nothing better. “Zolraag would just pick someone else from among us to mouth his words. He may decide to do that anyhow. But if I’m here, I serve as a reproach to whoever might want to take such a course—and to Zolraag himself, not that he cares much about reproaches from human beings. But if you can get Rivka and Reuven away …”

“I think I can. I have something in mind, anyhow.” Anielewicz frowned, thinking through whatever his scheme was. In what seemed a
non sequitur
, he asked, “Your wife reads, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Write a note to tell her whatever you need to say about escaping: I’d bet the Lizards can hear what goes on at your flat, too. I’d be able to do that, if I were wearing their shoes.”

Russie looked at the Jewish fighting leader in sharp surprise. Sometimes Anielewicz was amazingly matter-of-fact about his own deviousness. Maybe only accident of birth separated him from a
Gestapo
man. The thought was depressing. Even more depressing that in times like these the Jews desperately needed such men.

Anielewicz had barely paused. Now he went on, “Out loud, you talk to her about the three of you going out shopping to the marketplace on Gesia Street. Then go, but in a couple of hours. Have her wear a hat that stands out.”

“What will happen then?”

The fighting leader let out an exasperated snort.
“Reb
Moishe, the more you know, the more somebody can squeeze out of you. Even after you see what we do, you won’t know all of it—which is for the best, believe me.”

“All right, Mordechai.” Russie glanced over at his companion. “I hope you’re not putting yourself in too much danger on account of me.”

“Life is a gamble—we’ve learned about that these past few years, haven’t we?” Atiielewicz shrugged. “Sooner or later you lose, but there are times when you have to bet anyhow. Go on, do what I told you. I’m glad you don’t want to go into hiding yourself. We need you; you’re our conscience.”

Moishe felt like a conscience, a guilty one, all the way back to his block of flats. He paused along the way to scribble a note to his wife along the lines Anielewicz had suggested. As he stuck it back into his pocket, he wondered if he’d really have to use it. When he turned the last corner, he saw Lizard guards standing at the entrance to the apartment building. They hadn’t been there the day before. Guilt evaporated. To save his family, he would do what he must.

The Lizards scrutinized him as he approached. “You—Russie?” one of them asked in hesitant German.

“Yes,” he snapped, and pushed past. Two steps later, he wondered if he should have lied. The Lizards seemed to have as much trouble telling people from one another as he did telling them apart. He stamped angrily on the stairs as he climbed up to his own flat. Maybe he’d wasted a chance.

“What’s the matter?” Rivka asked, blinking, when he slammed the door behind him.

“Nothing.” He answered as lightly as he could, mindful Zolraag’s minions might be listening. “Why don’t we go shopping with Reuven this afternoon? We’ll see what they’re selling over on Gesia Street.”

His wife looked at him as if he’d suddenly taken leave of his senses. Not only was he anything but an enthusiastic shopper, his cheery manner did not match the way he’d stormed into the apartment. Before she could say anything, he pulled out the note and handed it to her.

“What is—?” she began, but fell silent at his urgent shushing motions. Her eyes widened as she read what he’d written. She rose to the occasion like a trouper. “All right, we’ll go out,” she said happily, though all the while her glance darted this way and that in search of the microphones he’d warned her about

If we could spot them so easily, they wouldn’t be a menace
, he thought He said, “When we go, why don’t you put on that new gray fur hat you bought? It goes so nicely with your eyes.” At the same time, he nodded vigorously to show her he wanted to be certain she did just that.

“I will. In fact, I’ll fetch it now so I don’t forget,” she said, adding over her shoulder, “You should tell me things like that more often.” She sounded more mischievous than reproachful, but he felt a twinge of guilt just the same.

The hat, a sturdy one with earflaps, had once belonged to a Red Army soldier. It wasn’t feminine, but it was warm, which counted for more in a city full of scarcity and too near empty of fuel. And it
did
set off her eyes well.

They made small talk to kill the time Anielewicz had asked them to kill. Then Rivka buttoned her coat, put a couple of extra layers of outer clothes on Reuven—who squealed with excitement at the prospect of going out—and left the apartment with Moishe. As soon as they were outside, she said, “Now what exactly is this all about? Why are we—?”

While they walked to the stairs and then down them, he explained more than he’d been able to put in his note. He finished, “So they’ll spirit the two of you away somehow, to keep the Lizards from using you to get a hold on me.”

“What will they do with us?” she demanded. “Where will we go?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Mordechai wouldn’t tell me. He may not know himself, but leave the choice to people the Lizards won’t automatically question. Though any rabbi would have a fit to hear me say it, sometimes ignorance is the best defense.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” she said. “Running from danger while you stay in it isn’t right. I—”

Before she could say
won’t
, he broke in, “This is the best thing you can do to keep me safe, too.” He wanted to say more, but by then they were at the entrance to the flats, and he couldn’t be sure how much Yiddish or Polish the Lizard guards there knew.

Somehow he wasn’t surprised when those guards, instead of staying at their post, started following him and his family. They didn’t come right alongside as if they were jailers, but they never let the Russies get more than ten or twelve meters ahead. If he or Rivka had tried to break and run, the Lizards would have had no trouble capturing or shooting them. Besides, if they broke and ran, they’d wreck whatever plan Anielewicz had made.

So they kept walking, outwardly as calm as if nothing unusual were happening. By the time they got to the market, four Lizards trailed them and two more walked ahead; with their swiveling eyes, the aliens could keep watch without constantly turning their heads back over their shoulders.

Gesia Street, as usual, boiled with life. Hawkers loudly peddled tea, coffee, and hot water laced with saccharine from samovars, turnips from pushcarts.
A man with a pistol stood guard over a crate of coal. Another sat behind a table on which he had set out spare parts for bicycles. A woman displayed bream from the Vistula. The weather was cold enough to keep the fish fresh till spring.

Several stands sold captured German and Russian military clothing. More German gear was available, but the Red Army equipment brought higher prices—the Russians knew how to fight cold. Rivka had bought her hat at one of these stands. Now, Moishe saw, even Lizards crowded around them. That made him abruptly move away.

“Where are we going?” Rivka asked when he swerved.

“I don’t exactly know,” he said. “We’ll just wander about and see what there is to see.”
Wander about and let Anielewicz’s men see us
, he thought.

As if from a distant dream, he remembered the days before the war, when he could walk into any tailor’s or grocer’s or butcher’s in Warsaw, find what he wanted, and be sure he had the zlotys to buy it. Compared to those days, the market on Gesia Street was privation personified. Compared to what the ghetto market had been like when the Nazis ruled Warsaw, it seemed cigar-smoking Wall Street capitalist affluence.

People surged this way and that, buying and bartering, trading bread for books, marks for meat, vodka for vegetables. The Lizards who were watching Russie and his family had to get closer to make sure their quarry did not somehow vanish in the crowds. Even then, they had no easy time because they couldn’t even see over or through the taller humans who kept stepping between them and the Russies.

Moishe suddenly found himself in the middle of a large knot of large men. By main force of will, he made himself keep his face straight—a lot of them came from the ranks of Mordechai Anielewicz’s fighters. Whatever happened would happen now.

One of Anielewicz’s men bent down, muttered something in Rivka’s ear. She nodded, squeezed Moishe’s hand hard, then let go. He heard her say, “Come on, Reuven.” A couple of burly fighters shouldered themselves between him and his wife and son. He looked away, biting the inside of his lip and fighting back tears.

A few seconds later, a hand joined his again. He spun round, half afraid something was wrong, half delighted he wouldn’t have to be separated from Rivka and Reuven after all. But the young woman whose fingers interlaced with his, though a fair skinned, gray-eyed brunette who wore Rivka’s hat, was not his wife.
Nor
was the
boy
beside her his son:

“We’ll wander around the marketplace a few more minutes, then go back to your flat,” she said quietly.

Russie nodded. This impostor’s coat was much like his wife’s, the hat was hers. He didn’t think the ploy would have fooled, say, SS men, but to
the Lizards, one human looked much like another. They might well have recognized Rivka by her hat rather than her features—that obviously was Anielewicz’s gamble, at any rate.

Russie’s first urge was to crane his neck to see where the fighters were taking his family. He fought it down. Then he really realized he was holding the hand of a woman not his wife. He jerked away as if she’d suddenly become red-hot. He would have been even more mortified if she’d laughed at him. To his relief, she just nodded in sympathetic understanding.

But his relief did not last long. “Could we leave now?” he asked. “It’s not only the Lizards, and it’s not that I’m not grateful, but people will see us together and wonder what on earth we’re doing. Or rather, they won’t wonder—they’ll decide they know.”

“Yes, that is one of the things that can go wrong,” the woman agreed, as coolly as if she were one of Anielewicz’s rifle-toting fighters herself. “But this was the best way we could come up with to make the switch on short notice.”

We?
Russie thought
She is a fighter, then, regardless of whether she carries a gun. So is the boy
.. He said, “What’s your name? How can I thank you properly if I don’t know who you are?”

She smiled. “I’m Leah. And this is David.”