City of the Sun (46 page)

The Egyptian man went to the window to see for himself. “Egyptian soldiers.”

The floor was a mess with food all over. Maya knelt down and was helping her father gather it when she heard a commotion in the corridor.

The door suddenly slammed open, and two soldiers stood in the doorway. They sized up the group and exchanged a few words in Arabic with the Egyptian couple.

Maya straightened up, her heart pounding. Somehow she knew they’d come for them.

“Herkowitz?” one of the soldiers barked.

“Not here,” Vati answered from the floor.

But Maya and Erik exchanged concerned looks. This was their name on their new passports.

“What is it?” Erik asked.

“Papers,” the soldier demanded. “For you and you,” he pointed to Erik and Vati, whom he helped back to his seat, grabbing him by the arm.

Maya did not like the way he manhandled her father and
panic shot through her. “What is this about?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“Not you,” the soldier barked back at her. “You and you,” he repeated, poking Erik’s and Vati’s shoulders with the tip of his rifle.

Erik coolly pushed the soldier’s rifle aside. “I don’t know what it is you men want, but our papers are in order. Maya, please,” he gestured to her to hand over their documents.

As she started to dig through her purse, her father stood up.

“I protest,” he declared in German, his jaw quivering. “You have no right to judge me. I am not garbage.”

As the soldier moved to push him back down, Erik grabbed his father’s hand, pulling him down to his seat. “Father, this is only perfunctory. There is no problem, is there, officer?” he managed to say in a soothing voice.

The soldier did not respond and gestured for Maya to hurry. “Papers!”

She found them and timidly tendered all three passports to the commanding soldier, who gave them to his comrade to examine. The two soon started to argue, fixing their gazes on Erik and Vati. One of them tossed Maya her passport, which she caught in midair. They addressed the Egyptian man in the compartment.

“They want to know which one of you is Erik Blumenthal,” the man relayed.

“I am,” Vati said, beating his chest and standing up again. “And I’m proud to be a Jew.”

“Father, don’t say stupidities. Sit down,” Maya demanded, before addressing the soldiers. “My father is not well in the head, I’m sorry.” She twisted her index finger against her temple to indicate that he was crazy.

“You and you. Come,” the commanding soldier ordered Erik and Vati, pointing to the corridor with his thumb.

“Is something wrong with our papers?” Erik asked.

“Come.” The commanding officer stepped forward and gripped Erik and Vati by their arms, getting them on their feet.

“I protest,” Vati shouted, trying to wriggle out of the soldier’s grip, but his comrade stepped in and, taking a firm hold, dragged him out of the cabin, while the other followed, tightly holding on to Erik, who did not even try to resist.

“Leave them alone! Stop it,” Maya cried, and with the protective instincts of a mother bear whose cub is in danger, she jumped on the soldier who was dragging Erik out. But with the palm of his hand spread across her face, the man pushed her back inside. She lunged at him again and struggled to free her brother, but this time, the soldier slapped her sharply, sending her reeling back into the cabin and knocking her head against the wall. She was so stunned by the blow that it took a couple of seconds for the pain to sink in. The Egyptian couple came to her aid, the man yelling in Arabic at the soldiers, who yelled back at him and slid the door closed behind them.

“Please stop them,” Maya implored as she regained her footing. She heard her father shouting for his violin and she rushed into the corridor, only to be confronted by a third soldier who’d sprung up out of nowhere, blocking her way. “Them only,” he said.

“Vati, no!” she screamed, catching a last glimpse of her father and brother being taken away. She fought the soldier who was holding her back, kicking, yelling, and biting, blind with fury. He was caught off guard and lost his footing for an instant, and Maya was able to slip by him. She raced down the hallway, but he caught her by her hair and overpowered her.

“You’re not understanding, miss,” he said in perfect English. “You’re not needed.”

“Please let me go with them,” she begged as the soldier dragged her back into the cabin. “Please, they are both so frail. Take me with you.” Her knees buckled and she would have fallen had the soldier not held her so firmly.

Their eyes briefly met. He soon looked away and let out an exasperated sigh. Holding her tight with one hand, he opened the window and yelled in Arabic to the other soldiers who were taking Erik and Vati toward the waiting lorry.

“Okay,” the soldier let up. “You’re coming along, miss. But no more biting or I’ll lock you up here.”

She just had time to grab her mother’s violin as he pulled her, sobbing, out of the compartment.

CHAPTER 45

Kesner parted the flaps of the large Bedouin tent. “
Allo
?” he singsonged, poking his head inside. Beyond the small entry area, the interior was divided into sections by a woven curtain and several sheets.

“Henna
,
”
a voice filtered back, and in seconds a sheet on the left was pulled aside to reveal an Egyptian soldier, the jacket of his uniform unbuttoned, his rifle at his shoulder.

Kesner didn’t bother to acknowledge him as he entered, erect as a king and as jubilant as a groom on his wedding day. He only had eyes for the three figures seated on floor cushions on brightly colored rugs, the light from the petrol lamp above dancing on their sad faces.

“Erik Blumenthal, I presume,” he greeted the scientist in German, recognizing him immediately. He extended his hand, but the Jew just glared at him.

“You have no right to detain us. Where are we?” Erik demanded.

The soldier rushed in and started to lift him under the arm.

“No, no, let him be,” the girl cried. “His legs are weak.” She jumped to her feet, but Kesner stopped her with a hand stretched across her stomach and forced her back down. He leaned toward the girl and lifted her chin to get a better look at her face. She looked quite unglamorous now with her disorderly hair and manly trousers, but she still looked pretty.
“Marianna, no?” Kesner cocked his head. “You look prettier in person than in the photo.”

The girl jerked her head away.

Kesner straightened up.

“Let him be,” Kesner told the soldier, gesturing to Erik. “I want you to take good care of him.” Then, addressing the scientist, he said, “You will need strength for the journey you face, Mr. Blumenthal. A lot of people in Berlin are looking forward to meeting you. And you have no rights, I’m sorry. This is war.”

“Who are you?” Marianna asked. “We did not do anything wrong.”

“Maybe you didn’t, but your brother here must have done something right. The führer wants him.”

The girl turned to her brother inquisitively, but his face remained impassive.

Kesner shrugged. “I frankly don’t know why,” he said, addressing Erik. “Apparently the last paper you wrote was a winner. It’s bringing you lots of fans, even from across the Atlantic.” He winked.

Another soldier walked in, interrupting them. “I am Sergeant Ibrahim,” the man introduced himself. “I led the squad that captured these people. We took both men because we were not sure which one you needed, and the girl—”

“I know, I know. You did a splendid job,” Kesner interrupted. Though not part of the plan, he was pleased by the mistake. The old man and the girl could be used as leverage in the event the scientist proved difficult. He turned to Erik. “We are glad to have you with us,
Herr
Blumenthal. And we very much appreciate your great efforts in the service of humanity.”

“What is he talking about?” Marianna asked her brother.

“They want me to help them build a bomb,” Erik said with loathing.

“Is that what it is?” Kesner smiled and leaned down to look him in the eye, but as he did, Erik drove his elbow into Kesner’s solar plexus, making him double up and gasp for air.

Ibrahim rushed to restrain Erik, who tried to wriggle out of his grip.

Marianna jumped at him. “Get your hands off him,” she cried. “He’s crippled, for God’s sake.”

Kesner lunged at the girl and pulled her away. He slapped her sharply, sending her reeling back into the tent and knocking her head against a copper pot. She looked at Kesner, dazed for an instant, her hand on her cheek, while the sergeant held his rifle in front of Erik’s face. Erik pushed it aside.

“Where is my violin?” Vati lamented as he started to get up, but he lost his equilibrium and fell back on his buttocks.

Kesner looked at each of the Blumenthals in disgust. He pointed a warning finger at Erik. “I’m sure you want your father and sister to be comfortable.
Nein
?” he threatened.

“I need access to a radio,” Kesner told Ibrahim as he exited.

“We have one in our lorry outside,” Ibrahim said, but when they got outside he whispered gravely, “I have terrible news. Our leader, Lieutenant Anwar Sadat, has been arrested by the British, along with a number of our men.”

“But that’s impossible! I was with him this morning,” Kesner protested. He’d had breakfast with the lieutenant around ten o’clock and discussed the train ticket information they’d pieced together from Léon Guibli’s files, unearthing the Blumenthals’ imminent departure for Palestine. Good thing too, because they had been unable to squeeze anything out of the rat lawyer himself.

“What about the plane he promised me to take them to Rommel?” Kesner asked. “Will it still be coming?”

“Indeed. The pilot has the map coordinates for this camp and will have everything ready by dawn tomorrow,” Ibrahim answered.

Kesner felt immensely relieved and patted him on the arm. “Have faith. It’s only days now before the Afrika Korps arrives and Egypt will become an independent nation.”

CHAPTER 46

After finding the train to Ismailiya stopped in the middle of nowhere with no sign of the Blumenthals, Mickey requisitioned the phone box in the first restaurant he spotted. Ignoring the impatient glares of a teenager waiting outside the booth, he was beside himself, and to make things worse, the connection was bad and he had to yell.

“I told you! That’s what the witnesses said. It was the Egyptian army,” Mickey shouted to Kirk on the other end. “An army truck with three soldiers stopped the train. They knew exactly which car Blumenthal was in. He was traveling with his father and sister, and they took all three.” He bit his lower lip.

“This makes no sense,” Kirk said. “The army is not involved with immigration and passport issues.”

“I know,” Mickey said, putting his index finger into his other ear, so as to shut out the noise around him. “And why would they stop the train in the middle of nowhere to make an arrest, with Ismailiya only fifteen minutes away? Something’s up. You have to call your friend General Neguib. I can’t help thinking that the hand of the Nazi spy is involved here.”

“Neguib has resigned his commission,” Kirk informed him. “He was humiliated by what happened at the palace yesterday. Good thing you weren’t in the streets this afternoon. Foreigners were being beaten up by angry mobs. Stores were
looted and burned. The Turf Club was torched, along with five or six cinemas, and so was the Kit Kat Club—”

“Ambassador, Ambassador,” Mickey tried to cut him off. His most urgent concern right now was Maya and her family.

“We’re lucky to have caught an arsonist before he set fire to the Shepheard’s Hotel. He was posing as an exterminator,” Kirk went on as if he hadn’t heard Mickey. “And the worst part about this madness is that the Egyptian police just sat back and watched it happen without raising a pinkie. This country will never be the same after this. And to think that Churchill is arriving—”

“Ambassador!” Mickey yelled. “I think the Blumenthal family was kidnapped. We have to find them.”

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the line. “I think you’re right. It does look like a kidnapping to me, and I have suspicions about who might have been involved.”