House of Ghosts (16 page)

Jake reached for the percolator on the stove behind him, giving it a shake to feel if he could eke out a cup. “Paul, there should be just enough to keep a tough guy like you up all night. Tell Ma if I’m a trouble maker or the bearer of the truth.”

Paul held out a mug for Jake. “He’s telling the truth. I wish she didn’t live way up in the Bronx.” He yawned, dropping a hint that he didn’t want to get into any deep discourse on his date.

His mother had other ideas. “Not to get too personal, but what did you do tonight?” she asked.

There was no easy way out without telling her to mind her own business. “I intended to get to her house by five. Unfortunately, the subway was screwed up when I had to change at the Grand Concourse and didn’t get to her place until nearly six,” Paul said, sipping the coffee that had the consistency of sludge. “Her
parents insisted we stay for supper. Don’t worry Ma, the brisket was tasty, but not as good as yours.”

Rachel blushed at the compliment. “I’m sure Mrs. Greenbaum is a good cook.”

“All of a sudden, her aunt burst in with some astounding news. Her niece in Hamburg secured passage on the ship St. Louis scheduled to dock in Havana in two days.”

“I didn’t think it was still possible to get out of Germany. It’s a miracle, nothing more.” Rachel put her hands together as if she were praying. “I’m a little confused by who this girl is related to. By the way, I baked a crumbcake, do you want a piece?”

Paul shook his head. “Minnah is Sarah’s cousin. They’re the same age. Sarah’s mother has two sisters, one lives in the Bronx, the other in Hamburg.”

“You can’t trust the Cubans. They’re capable of pulling a fast one at the last minute,” Jake said.

Rachel stood up and removed her apron. It didn’t matter that she was dressed in an old pink terry cloth robe. “Jake, sometimes you make me angry. With such wonderful news, you have to act like a wet blanket and suggest that something is bound to go wrong. You never were this way. I don’t know what changed you.” She stared at her older son. “Now that I know my boys are home, I can go back to bed.”

The boys said good night. Jake nibbled on a piece of cake. “I’ve dealt with some Cubans down at the pier. Those guys would take your eyeballs out and try to sell them back to you. They don’t dare to pull any shit with us, because they’d end up floating back to Havana face down.”

“Ma lives in her own world. Talking to her and Pop can wreck your mind, especially when the topic concerns what is happening in Europe. The Greenbaums have a bunch of relatives in Germany and some in Czechoslovakia. The talk centered on getting the rest over here.”

Jake brushed crumbs off the counter. “It’s not totally impossible to get someone out. The other day, I heard a ship came into port with extra cargo on board. Like everything else in this world, what is heartache to one is an opportunity to another. If a profit can be made on some desperate Jews, why not? I’m going to bed, shut off the light little brother.”

The conversation with Jake knocked the sleep out of Paul. He went to the living room and stretched out on the sofa. A sudden thump on his chest woke him with a start. He sat up to find the Sunday
New York Times
sitting on his chest with Jake holding a worried look on his face. “I know Ma doesn’t want us to sleep on
this sofa, but come on,” Paul whined.

Jake turned the paper so it faced Paul. “Rub the sleep from your eyes and read. I’m going to put up some coffee.”

The
Times
article was a rehash of the ongoing saga of the German ship, the
St. Louis
, with one bit of new news—Cuban President Federico Laredo Bru formally declared the travelers’ immigration documents were invalid despite the fact that a Cuban in charge of immigration had sold them. The unfortunate buyers would again have to obtain valid visas approved by the Cuban government.

Paul walked into the kitchen. “What is going to happen to those people on board the ship?”

“I told you the Cubans can’t be trusted,” Jake said, sliding a coffee cup to his agitated brother. “And I’m not sure about our own government either.”

Paul took a deep breath and sat at the table, watching Jake slice a bagel and painstakingly place a slab of cream cheese on it. His brother was stalling, the taught muscles in Jake’s eighteen-inch neck were a dead give-away. “Get it out before it hurts you.”

Jake handed Paul the bagel and proceeded to repeat the ritual. “We’re preparing for what could happen in this country,” he said, knowing that if their mother found out what he was about to involve the baby of the family in, his life would be a living hell. Eventually, Paul would be placed in harm’s way, but the United States government would be responsible. “We’re developing our own intelligence and military units.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

Jake was under pressure to find and recruit people that could be trusted. The movement required muscle and brains. The former was easy to find, the latter more difficult. “I’m asking if you want to join.

Paul took a bite of the bagel. “A Jewish underground army.”

Jake crunched his legs under the table as he took a seat. “You’ll be placing yourself in danger from a number of areas: The first being our fight with the Bund. They’re desperate to find out who was responsible for hitting them. The second problem is our own government will put us in jail for the rest of our lives if we get caught.”

“Why did it take you so long to ask me?” Paul asked. “Stop treating me like I’m your baby brother.”

Jake returned to the counter and refreshed his coffee. “I’ll remember that,” he said with a wry smile. “The Greenbaums must be devastated by the Cuban double-cross. You know, it’s kind of funny how one’s perception can be changed by knowing someone on board.”

“How so?”

Jake became animated, waving his arms. “If I read the story of the St. Louis and the poor devils on board before I heard about Sarah’s cousin, I would’ve been sympathetic and outraged. Now, it is personal.”

“You don’t know the Greenbaums or Sarah’s cousin. She’s a name without a face.”

Jake looked pensively at the headline. “How much do you like Sarah? It’s hard for me to talk about this kind of stuff. Do you love this girl? Don’t give me any bullshit. This is serious business.”

“Sarah is different than the other girls I’ve dated. If missing someone is a definition of love,” Paul hesitated, “then I love her. There I said it. But Jake, how do my feelings for Sarah change what’s going to happen to her cousin?”

“Some people I work with,” Jake said between bites of his bagel, “have contacts in Miami and Havana. I’ve done my share of jobs for those guys, and I can ask a favor. That’s why I needed to know how you really feel about Sarah. I don’t have an unlimited supply of IOUs. The situation has to be a matter of life and death, and Sarah’s cousin is in it up to her neck.”

“This deal is going to hinge on money, isn’t it? How much and how soon?”

“How is Sarah’s family fixed? This could be an expensive proposition. I have to be sure the transaction can be completed before we start. My associates don’t appreciate having their chains yanked.”

Paul held his hand up and stopped talking. He pointed to the sound of footsteps in the hall. “Mr. Greenbaum works at the wholesale vegetable market in the Bronx. They have a nice apartment, but money to bribe somebody, I don’t think so.”

“This sort of thing requires a lot, close to ten grand. That doesn’t include travel expenses,” Jake said.

The footsteps reappeared. Abe Rothstein, in rapidly failing health, shuffled back to his bedroom. “Travel expenses?” Paul asked. “I thought you could swing this thing from New York.”

Jake rose from his chair, stretched, and walked to the open window facing Flatbush Avenue. “The traffic sounds different on a Sunday. It’s still crazy even this early, but instead of delivery trucks, you have family cars. People going and doing what they can’t do during the week.”

“I don’t want to sound like a philosopher,” Jake said, turning toward Paul, “but thinking about the
St. Louis
got to me. Nicky’s uncle Tommy can make the right connections in Cuba. The money has to be taken down there personally to ease the way.”

“Are you sure Nicky’s uncle can do what you say he is capable of? I would hate to get the Greenbaums’ hopes up and then smash them to bits. That would be worse than the situation now,” Paul cautioned.

“I’m going to go over to Nicky’s to borrow the Buick and check some details. I should be back in three-quarters of an hour. In the meantime, call Sarah and tell her we’re coming up to talk things over with her parents.”

Rachel was out of bed. Having surveyed the living room, she made her way to the kitchen. Paul looked at his brother with the knowledge that he was about to face the wrath of the keeper of the sacred sofa. “Who was the smarty that slept on the sofa?” Rachel demanded, her floral housecoat flowing behind.

Jake pointed to Paul. “I won’t lie, it was your younger son. I have to meet Nicky,” He kissed his mother on the cheek then left the apartment.

“Where is Jake going so early?” Her eye caught the paper, staring incredulously at the headline. “Doesn’t anybody care?” The conversation from the previous night came back to her. “Do you have any idea what your brother is up to? That Nicky Spagnola and his Italian gangster family have changed my boy. I know he does things that are illegal. He always has extra money when everybody is watching their pennies. You going to tell your mother, Paulie?”

Paul poured Rachel a cup of coffee, topping off his own. “Do you want a bagel? Jake brought them home fresh from the oven.”

Rachel wasn’t to be put off. She took a sip from the steaming cup. “Paulie, don’t change the subject. You’ve always been a very bad liar, so don’t even attempt to fool me.”

“Listen Ma, Jake moves in circles which we don’t have the wildest ideas about. His job has brought him into contact with people who are very powerful, who deal with people in politics and in the government.”

Rachel sat shaking her head. “You’re putting a shine on what he does. Those men down on the pier are gangsters. I read the papers, and I know Nicky Spagnola’s uncle is a big mob boss. My son is a gangster too. They say you have to call a spade a spade. Jake, sooner or later, is going to get into trouble, big trouble.”

Paul rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Jake hasn’t told me what he does on his job. What I know is, he is someone who doesn’t take lightly to what is happening to Jews in Europe. Nicky’s uncle has the clout to get Sarah’s cousin off that ship. That’s the reason he went out this morning.”

Rachel broke off a piece of bagel and took a bite. “I know that he’s upset by what we hear from Europe, but I’m surprised he’s getting involved. I go to the movies and see these pictures with George Raft and Humphrey Bogart. They talk about favors. If you ask a favor, they say you owe a favor.”

Paul laughed, but had to admit to himself that his mother was correct about the favor issues. “The movies aren’t real. It’s not like he is asking for a favor. Believe it or not, Nicky’s uncle treats Jake like a nephew. You asked why he’s involved. The reason is very simple. He’s doing it for me.”

“Because of your girlfriend?” Rachel asked.

Paul was about to reply to his mother when Jake returned. “We’ve got to get moving, I’m double parked.”

Jake navigated Nicky’s Buick toward the Brooklyn Bridge. With the mild spring weather, the bridge walkways were crowded with pedestrians on their way to the lower east side of Manhattan. They moved quickly up First Avenue in the light Sunday morning traffic, crossing the Willis Avenue Bridge into the Bronx. The Greenbaum apartment was two blocks from Yankee Stadium where the Rothstein’s beloved Dodgers had spent many a long day. Jake would forever bear the reminder of the 1937 World Series. The despised Giants had won the National League Pennant. Jake believed in the adage that he was a fan of any team playing the Yankees and accepted tickets to the fourth game of the World Series played in the Bronx. Afterwards, a fight ensued outside of the Stadium, where Jake received the present of a two-by-four on the side of the head. Besides a concussion, he had suffered a ruptured left eardrum.

Luckily the Yankees were on the road, finding a parking space was relatively easy. Sarah was waiting outside, greeted Paul with a well-placed kiss on his cheek, and gave Jake a hug. The trio climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.

Sarah opened the green door of 5B to reveal a living room smaller than their Brooklyn bedroom. Seated on a canary yellow sofa were four adults. On the hard-wood floor, two young children played with a box of blocks. The men rose as Sarah introduced her parents Heshie and Hannah and her Aunt Rima and Uncle Louis Freidman. Jake towered over Heshie and Louis at the amusement of the kids who waved hello.

Jake felt the stares of Sarah’s family, understanding their apprehension. Just days ago, they were euphoric with news of Minnah’s deliverance from hell, only to be placed on an emotional roller coaster. He gazed around the room, eyeing the framed photos of family, many of which he surmised were languishing behind Nazi borders.

It was time to get to the point. “I’m sorry that you have such
tsorris
,” Jake said softly. “However, as Paulie explained on the phone, there’s a chance Minnah can be gotten off the
St. Louis
.”