Among the Living (12 page)

“You may have her pity, Mr. Goldah, but please know that pity is all it can ever really be, despite what even she herself might come to think. I have no doubt your own experiences tell you such. Am I right?”

This time Goldah simply stared and Mrs. Weiss said, “Yes, I imagine you do. I do hope you enjoy the holidays and I wish you and your family a very sweet and happy new year.”

4

THE SEVEN A
.
M
. Nancy Hanks got them into Atlanta just before two p.m. They had spent half the trip in the grill car, Jesler praising the Georgia Central for its steaks — the best of any of the lines, he said, even the ones up to New York. Goldah agreed and let Jesler finish the slab of meat that remained on his own plate. It was little more than a thick spine of fat and veins when the boy in the white coat came to clear the table.

Out in the cab the streets beyond the station grew wider while the buildings — littered with signs and awnings — moved past at full assault. Goldah had let himself forget the pace of a real city. He settled back and listened to Jesler drone on as the streets moved by in a blur.

Their hotel, the Georgian Terrace, was a grand affair, with white columns and a series of red-striped canopies out front. It lived up to its name, with a side terrace where early drinks or late lunches dotted the tables among the legion of tuxedoed servers.

Goldah felt the heat at once as he and Jesler stepped from the cab. It was a different heat here — different from Savannah — drier, and Goldah wondered if it was possible to miss a thing he had only just come to know.

The sixth-floor room was plush, with sitting chairs and a small ottoman. Goldah pressed his hand onto the mattress
and it gave with his palm; he imagined the pillows would do the same. Jesler had tossed his jacket and tie onto his bed and was now in the bathroom running the water.

“You can see the Tech campus from the window,” Jesler said between splashes.

Goldah was already staring out. In the distance he saw a few green patches — trees, red brick — congregating in a small oval. Elsewhere pockets of height broke through the endless stretches of thick, packed-down stone, all of it gray and drab. Goldah had seen the city burn at the cinema years ago, magnificent on the screen. This, he now saw, was what had come after.

Jesler was patting a towel on his neck as he stepped into the room.

“So,” he said, “we’ll meet back here at around seven? I’d take you with me but it’s going to be one store after another. You could walk to the campus from here. Take a look around. It’s very pleasant. Or you could catch a movie just across the street. I didn’t see what was playing. Then we’ll have some dinner and be up and ready for tomorrow. Sound like a plan?”

“It does.”

“Good. And look — I don’t want you to be worried about any of this government stuff. They like to keep it all very close to the chest but I’m sure it’s nothing. They’ll ask you a few questions. Probably just about how you’re getting on. So we’ll head down to the offices early, get it over with, and get back on the train.”

“I’m not worried.”

Jesler tossed the towel onto his bed. “No, I don’t imagine you are. Wish I could say the same.”

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

Jesler pulled his collar up and reached for the tie. “You never seem to flap, do you? Always calm with things. Have you always been that way?”

Goldah knew he hadn’t. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I guess you just have to be.” Jesler brought the tie to a knot, and Goldah watched as the skin around Jesler’s neck strained against the collar. Funny how some people took silence for calm. Jesler said, “Just take things as they come, I guess.” He nodded then put on the jacket and checked himself in the mirror. “You have money?”

“I do.”

Jesler pulled out his wallet and placed a five-dollar bill on the bureau. He turned back to himself in the mirror.

“Just in case,” he said. He straightened his hair. “And if you bring a girl back, leave a signal for me on the door. You know, shoes outside or a tie.” Goldah started to answer and Jesler smiled. “I know, Ike. Just don’t spend it all in one place.”

The door clicked shut and Goldah turned again to the window. He waited a few minutes until he saw Jesler step out onto the street. Jesler got into a cab, and Goldah watched as it pulled away.

The room was remarkably still. Goldah thought perhaps he had never known such quiet. Within minutes he was asleep.

“Hats, girdles, handbags … it’s all the same in the end, Abe, lucky for us. You see what I’m saying?”

Meyer Hirsch was small and very thin, and when he spoke, his words tumbled into each other, tied together by a nasal bridge, as if he was constantly humming. It made it difficult to get a word in. His desk was at the back of a vacuum repair shop, although Jesler guessed that Hirsch wouldn’t have
known the difference between an Electrolux and a Hoover: The machines all stood on the shelves like undusted trophies.

Hirsch said, “So Mel Green tells me you’ve never done this sort of thing.”

Jesler was eager to move past Green. He said, “I can’t say I know exactly what you mean by ‘this sort of thing.’ ”

“Sure you do, Abe. Otherwise why would you be sitting in my shop talking about New York unions? You’re moving up, making an advantage for yourself. Nothing wrong with that. Just that maybe certain things are best done not out in the open. Fewer hands reaching out. You see what I’m saying?”

Jesler was wondering how many hands they would be talking about.

“There’s nothing illegal,” Hirsch went on. “At least not on my end. You say the Irish are handling the tax and import men, yes? Always important to have someone good handling the import people. Making sure they’re comfortable.
Very
comfortable. That way no tax notation. No tax notation, no import log. No import log — you see what I’m saying. Then it stays very private, very local, which is what you want. And why you’ve come to me. You haven’t signed anything, have you?”

“No,” said Jesler.

“Good. That’s good. You let them take care of all that. Still, there’s a danger. Naturally there’s a danger. The unknowns, who gets wind of what’s doing, so forth and so on.”

“And how often have you done this sort of thing?”

The nasal hum became a momentary laugh. “He wants to know how often. That’s good.
Very
good. It’s a good question. You’re sure you want the answer? No, I’m just joking. Enough. I do it enough to know how to make sure that what happens here doesn’t catch anyone’s eye up in New York … or Newark, maybe even as far north as New Haven. Some union boy all
the way up there hears what’s doing down here …” He bobbled his head, smiled. “We don’t want this to happen. Simple as that.”

“Forgive my ignorance, Meyer, but I’m not exactly clear why any of them should care about what happens in Savannah.”

“Abe. Please. Longshoremen, Teamsters … these are serious people. They need to know that they’re … how should I put it … that they’re
involved.
That nothing comes or goes without they get something for themselves. You see what I’m saying. They’ll want their piece. But, really, do they need to involve themselves with something like this? Of course not. So we make sure they …” — the words trailed off into a long breath out — “that we don’t bother them with this. That they don’t feel bothered. Simple as that.”

“And when I begin to ship the shoes —”

“Merchandise, Abe, merchandise. Much better that way.”

“So when I begin to ship the
merchandise
 … here to Atlanta or to Charleston or Miami, maybe even to Chicago —”

“I’m going to stop you there, Abe. Not to be rude of course. Only for clarification. You have to understand, this isn’t for Chicago.” Hirsch shook his head vigorously, his hands up for emphasis. “No Chicago … Chicago, Cleveland, anything north of Richmond. We have to understand this from the start. You draw your lines, you stick to them, and you put enough money in your pocket to make yourself more than happy. Now, if this was booze or textiles or fruit —”

“Fruit?”

“Sure. Fruit is big, very big, trust me. You don’t want to go near peaches, God forbid plums. Then every union boss up to Boston would be down here quicker than you’d care to know. But you’re smart, you picked something small, specialized,
coming in from Europe — even better. It’s not worth it to them, as long as they don’t find out. This part of the world, it’s pishers, Abe … believe me … small potatoes. You’re a pisher, which is nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of money as long as you play it smart. My job — I help you play it smart. Then we all make a lot of money.”

Jesler was beginning to feel uneasy, but with a man like Hirsch in his back pocket — or he in Hirsch’s, he didn’t fully know — maybe the boys up the coast would see things differently, especially when it came to all those “extras.”

Hirsch said, “And you’re sure these Irish know how to handle the import people? Maybe I help them there a little, too. What do you think?”

Jesler said, “So how many other folks in Atlanta do what you do?”

Hirsch looked mildly disappointed. “Abe, you want I should get you a list of references? I’m the only game in town.”

“You misunderstand me, Meyer. I want to make sure that no one else down here feels deprived, someone who might be inclined to send information up north to those unions boys out of spite.”

Jesler saw a moment of caution in Hirsch’s eyes, then something he wasn’t expecting: respect. Hirsch said, “That’s smart.
Very
smart. And careful.” Hirsch nodded as if he’d just convinced himself of something. “Good. I’ll need six hundred up front to get things going.”

The sudden shift caught Jesler off guard. “Six hundred?” he repeated.

“What — we’re not wasting each other’s time, are we, Abe?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You sure?”

For the first time, Jesler felt the threat from across the desk. Where the hell was he going to get another six hundred dollars?

“Because I’d hate for you to see the whole thing go up in smoke. I’m the only game in town, Abe, and I happen to know everything about what you want to be doing. Believe me. You’ve worked it beautifully on your end. I’m very impressed. Putting merchandise like that on your shelves, distributing the rest throughout the region. Very nice. Clean. But keeping things quiet on something like that, especially when it’s coming in from the coast, that takes organization, planning. Someone goes talking … You see what I’m saying?”

Jesler wasn’t sure whether to appreciate or blanch at Hirsch’s directness.

“Six hundred,” said Jesler. “So when do you need it?”

Goldah followed a man named Hilliard into a narrow office on the third floor of the new post office building, the State Department’s home in Atlanta. Jesler had agreed to wait outside.

The place held no surprises, all of it stark and in keeping with Hilliard’s creased lines and gray suit. Hilliard asked if Goldah wanted water, Goldah declined, and Hilliard sat. He opened a drawer and removed a single file. He seemed to hesitate before looking across at Goldah.

“I’m afraid we’ve had no choice in this, Mr. Goldah, so I apologize if any of it becomes uncomfortable for you. As I said, we simply need your help, nothing more.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” Hilliard opened the file. “You’re here because of a Miss Malke Posner. Am I pronouncing the name correctly?”

Goldah was staring down at the file, the letters upside down. He had the sudden thought that he might never catch his breath again. But he did and looked across at Hilliard.

Hilliard said, “Why don’t I get you that water.”

Goldah drank deeply. Hilliard refilled the glass and Goldah drank again.

Hilliard said, “I’m guessing from your reaction I’m pronouncing it correctly.”

Goldah set the glass on the desk and found his voice. “Yes.”

“You were close to Miss Posner before the war?”

Goldah stared at Hilliard’s face and his neatly parted hair, the lines around the eyes and the small discoloration near the ear. Hilliard’s lips were thin and pale, and Goldah thought he smelled a woman’s soap beneath the tang of the cigarettes. But there was nothing feminine to Hilliard, nothing smooth to the face or narrow in the fingers. The knuckles were red and meaty, and the hands looked as if they had held things that men were meant to hold. For Goldah, though — in this place, now — he saw another face, one he had told himself, time and time again, he must learn to forget …