The singing stopped when the door slammed and the men inside the other barracks began calling out, “What is happening?”
“Nothing yet,” shouted Tedi. “But we are watching.”
After a short time, six soldiers marched in formation to Barrack G and took six of the new inmates to Delousing.
“Why are you so tense?” Leonie asked Shayndel as they waited for the men to emerge.
“I’m not tense.”
“Chérie, you are chewing your lip, tapping your foot, and drumming your fingers on your own arm.”
Shayndel could not think of a lie to cover up her nerves. She felt as though her senses were stretched to their limits, as keen as they had been in combat. But she was also unfocused and anxious to find out more about the escape plan. Luckily, the doors to Delousing opened before Leonie could press her any further.
All attention shifted to the clean-shaven men, their wet hair glittering like onyx in the sun.
“How handsome they are,” said Tedi.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d find that sort attractive,” Leonie said.
“You think I’d go for that Australian fellow?”
“He’s tall and blond like you. And good-looking, you have to admit.”
“Not my type,” said Tedi.
“Don’t you two have anything better to talk about?” Shayndel grumbled.
“Not at the moment,” said Leonie.
“What should we be talking about?” Tedi asked, wondering why Shayndel suddenly smelled like burning leaves.
“Well, I’m going to go chop some onions before my mind turns into glue.”
The men waved and saluted as they were rushed back to the barrack. “Come tell me if anything interesting happens,” Shayndel said.
“What could happen?” Tedi asked.
“Maybe you should ask one of them to marry you,” Leonie said, poking Tedi in the ribs.
“I’m done with you two,” said Shayndel, and she tried not to run on her way to the kitchen. She was determined to force Tirzah to tell her something before she lost what remained of her self-control, but she found the cook in a rage of her own.
“Those monsters aren’t going to let them come to the dining hall,” she fumed, filling a basket with hard-boiled eggs, olives, and bread. “They are going too far,” she said, thrusting a water pitcher at Shayndel just as Applebaum arrived.
“Can’t we manage something besides water for them to drink?” he asked. “Tea at least?”
“This is a question for your commander,” said Tirzah, without meeting his eyes. “I would need permission.”
He answered with undisguised contempt: “Perhaps the request would be met with success if you asked him yourself.”
Tirzah met his gaze. “No need,” she said icily. “I’ll get it ready.”
Applebaum shrugged. “I’ll come back for it.”
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath.
After helping Tirzah prepare the baskets, Shayndel slipped outside to look for Nathan, who, she was certain, knew how the arrival of the prisoners fit into the plans for the breakout. She found him standing near the eastern fence, deep in conversation with Bob and Uri.
“They asked each of them how they got over the border,” said Nathan. “They wanted to know who helped them, if they had contacts in Baghdad.”
“It’s good that none of them knows anything.”
“About what?” Shayndel demanded. “Why are these men being treated so differently? Why are they locked in?”
“You’re a smart one. Can’t you figure it out?” said Nathan.
“Are they being sent somewhere else?” Shayndel guessed.
“Not if we have anything to do with it,” Bob muttered.
“So this escape plan is all about rescuing them?”
“You see,” Nathan said. “I told you she was a smart girl.”
“What about the rest of us?”
“Listen, comrade,” said Nathan, draping his arm around her shoulder, “we are going to start a new calisthenics class this afternoon so it will appear that my friends here have an official purpose in Atlit. Bob will be making a special class for the girls, so see to it that we have a good showing.”
“Does that mean we’re all going?” Shayndel insisted.
But Nathan only chucked her under the chin and walked away.
Tirzah had put off her visit to Bryce’s office as long as she could. She dreaded the place, and not only because of the photograph of his wife and sons. She hated the old British map of Palestine on the wall, the locks on the filing cabinets, and the width of his desk, which seemed to measure the gulf between them. She forced herself to stand tall and pretend not to see the knowing glances—real or imagined—cast at her by the soldiers at the prison gate and then by the sentries at the administration building.
She relaxed a little at the sight of Bryce’s unfailingly polite clerk, who seemed young enough to be her own son. Private Gordon got to his feet and said, in halting Hebrew, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Friedman. He is telephone. He will be with you in moments five or six.”
Tirzah smiled. “Your Hebrew is improving.”
“Thank you. It is difficult with me. I study and talk in Haifa shopping. Here, no one will talk.”
Bryce’s voice grew loud enough to be heard through the wall. Tirzah and Gordon glanced at each other uneasily. A few minutes later, he opened the door, his neck and ears flushed.
“Mrs. Friedman,” he said, surprised to see her. “Is there some problem? Do you have everything you need by way of supplies?”
“I have run out of salt,” she said. “I would like to use the telephone to order more.”
Private Gordon got to his feet. “If you don’t mind, Colonel, I need to round up some more envelopes. Shall I send someone in my absence?”
“No need,” said Bryce.
She followed him inside the office and sat down. “It is not only the salt,” she said. “My son needs to see the dentist tomorrow. I wish to make a telephone call to make sure the appointment can take place as scheduled.”
“Of course,” he said, turning the phone around and pushing it toward her. “Tomorrow, you say?”
“Yes. The only time he can be seen is at night,” said Tirzah. “He is to arrive rather late, in fact. During the half hour after the second watch.”
“I see.”
“I believe tomorrow is a night that Goldberg is usually posted at the front gate.”
Bryce nodded. “Yes, that is correct.”
Tirzah took the receiver and asked the operator to place the call. They waited in silence for several minutes, their eyes fixed on each other’s hands.
“No one answers,” she said.
“Would you like to wait and try again?”
“It is not necessary. Is it?”
“Would you like me to ask Gordon to bring you a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you,” said Tirzah.
Tirzah and Bryce stood up. She smoothed her skirt. He moved the telephone back to its customary place.
They both realized that these might be their last few moments alone. The breakout would change things in Atlit. Bryce was risking his career. Tirzah might be assigned elsewhere. There was no way of knowing.
Bryce broke the silence. “I will miss seeing Danny.”
“Colonel,” she said, switching to English. “I wish to thank you for your concern for my boy.”
“A pleasure, Mrs. Friedman.”
“Good-bye,” she said, in English.
“Let us say instead, Shalom,” said Bryce.
“As you wish,” Tirzah said. “Shalom.”
When Leonie saw the knot of women gathered outside her barrack door, she ran toward them and pushed her way inside. Aliza was shouting at the top of her lungs, “Enough, enough,” while Lotte, crouched on top of her cot, shrieked, “Hexe, hexe, hexe.”
Her skirt was stained with dirt and menstrual blood, her feet were filthy, her ankles covered w
ith angry red welts.
“Wait,” said Leonie, stepping in front of the nurse. “Let me.”
Lotte stopped screaming. “Get the witch away from me, Claudette Colbert,” she said. “She is an evil witch and I know what she wants.”
She dropped her voice and whispered, “She wants to cut open my legs and put glass needles inside to watch me die. She wants to kill me. Everyone here wants to kill me. The one dressed like a nurse will break my bones. She is not a nurse at all. That’s a disguise. She is a witch.”
“Calm yourself,” Leonie said. “You can trust me, can’t you? I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Thank goodness you speak German,” said Aliza. “The doctor told me to bring her to the clinic, but I told him I will not permit such dirt in my infirmary.” She pointed at Lotte and shouted, “You need to be washed and fumigated.”
“She wants to kill me,” Lotte shrieked.
“Stop screaming,” Aliza hollered.
Leonie took a step closer to Lotte. “She is not a witch, really. She wants only for you to bathe, and I think that is a good idea. You will feel so much better when you are nice and clean. And to be honest, fräulein, you have no choice in this. You must do as we say, or they will take you to the hospital.”
“No hospital.”
“That’s it. I’m going to send a couple of the guards to get her,” Aliza said.
“It won’t be necessary,” Leonie said. “I think she is afraid of your uniform. Perhaps it would be better if you let me take her to Delousing.”
“I’m not sure you can manage this.”
“You can see that she listens to me,” said Leonie.
“I will send someone to help you.”
“No need,” Leonie said.
“Oh, yes, there is. Nurses in the mental wards are always getting bitten and punched. Bring her to the infirmary as soon as you’re done.”
After Aliza left, Leonie said, “You see? I sent the nurse away. But if you don’t do as I say, she will return with soldiers, and the doctor.”
“No doctors.”
“So you will come with me?”
“We are going to Hollywood, Claudette Colbert?” Lotte asked, with a knowing wink that sent a shiver up Leonie’s back.
“We are going to get you clean. You’ll have a shower, fresh clothes, and you’ll feel like a new woman.” Leonie held out her hand, walking backward, as Lotte climbed off the bed with the blanket wrapped around her.
Outside, Tedi was waiting with a towel and a change of clothes. “The nurse sent me,” she said, and turned her head away from Lotte’s smell. “Ugh. Let’s get this over with.”
Lotte followed them, dragging the blanket in the dust. When they reached the back door of Delousing, Leonie told Tedi, “Wait for us here.”
“The nurse said I should stay with you.”
“Just stand by the door. I’ll call if I need anything.”
Tedi needed no further convincing.
Lotte seemed to relax a little as they entered the dim, cavernous room, but the sight of the showers made her sprint toward the door. Tedi caught her and dragged her all the way into the stall, where she crouched on the floor with her hands on top of her head.
“If you do not wash right now,” said Leonie, “I will get the doctor.”
“No doctors,” Lotte hissed. She hurried to her feet and pushed her chest out defiantly, as though she were facing a firing squad. “I am ready.”
Tedi turned the faucet full on, and although the water was cold, Lotte did not flinch.
“Very good,” said Leonie gently. “You see the soap over there? Start with your hair and your face.”
“Get her out of here,” said Lotte, pointing at Tedi, who was glad to retreat to her post near the door.
Leonie watched as the water transformed Lotte from a troll into a normal-looking woman. She was a little older than the rest of them—twenty-eight or even thirty. Her hair was light brown and fine. Someone had hacked it off at odd angles, Leonie thought; probably used a knife.
Lotte’s eyes were also brown, but with a yellow cast that made her look less like a mouse than a fox.
“Now,” said Leonie, “take off your clothes.”
Lotte slipped out of the skirt, which seemed to melt as the dirt washed down the drain.
“Good, but you must remove everything,” Leonie said, pointing at her blouse.
She grumbled but turned her back and unbuttoned the filthy shirt. She slipped off one sleeve, but then stopped, keeping the other one wrapped around her arm.
“Many women here have the numbers,” Leonie reassured her. “There is no shame in it.”
Lotte glanced over her shoulder, winked at Leonie again, and then crouched down to urinate. In the moment Leonie turned her head away, Lotte removed the other sleeve and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall with her legs stretched out in front of her.
She sat with her head tipped back under the water, which had warmed up enough to release some mist into the air. Lotte sighed and, for a moment, let her arms rest beside her, which is how Leonie caught sight of what looked like an oddly shaped bruise on the inside of her left bicep.
She turned off the water quickly, hoping for a clearer view of it before Lotte folded her arms.
“Here,” Leonie whispered, holding out a towel and watching as Lotte pulled on a long-sleeved white shirt and a blue skirt that was too big around the waist.
“I’ll get you a belt from the barrack,” she added, “and a comb.”
Tedi and Leonie walked on either side of Lotte, who kept her eyes on the ground and her shoulders pinched back. As soon as they crossed the threshold, she bolted to her bed and burrowed under a new, clean blanket.
Leonie took Tedi’s arm and pulled her outside. “You have to tell me everything that you know about this woman.”
“What’s the matter?” Tedi said. “You’re shaking.”
“She has a tattoo.”
“No, she doesn’t,” said Tedi. “I saw both her arms when I dragged her to the shower. There was nothing there.”
“It’s up here,” Leonie said, pointing to the underside of her arm, near the armpit. “And it’s not a number. She is SS.”
“SS?” Tedi gasped. “That can’t be possible, is it? Are you certain?”
“Not completely,” Leonie said, suddenly not trusting herself. “What do you know about her?” she pressed.
“Shayndel said that she had been in Ravensbrück,” said Tedi. “I heard that they did terrible medical experiments on the prisoners there, which explains her terror of Aliza. But she cannot be a Nazi; Shayndel told me that she has family here in Palestine. I’m going to go tell her about this right away.”
“Not yet,” said Leonie, gripping Tedi’s arm. “Let me make sure. Don’t tell anyone about this. If it turns out that I am wrong, the accusation would be too awful to forgive. I’ll talk to Aliza, so she can stay in the barrack until I can get another look at her arm and make sure, one way or another.”
Tedi groaned at the prospect of another night with Lotte beside her, but didn’t argue; she could see that Leonie was set on getting her way. “But if you are right about her, why in the world would such a person come here? How could that happen?”
“I don’t know,” Leonie said slowly. “But there are times I do not know why I am here, either.”
Tedi nodded. “I know what you mean. I look at the ones from the concentration camps and the ones who dreamed of coming here their whole lives, and I feel like a fraud.” She glanced nervously at Leonie. “If she really turns out to be a Nazi, it might explain the way she … smells.”
“I don’t understand,” said Leonie.
“I never told anyone this before because it makes me sound like a raving lunatic. But ever since I got here, I’ve been able to …” Tedi searched for a way to explain. “My nose, I mean my sense of smell—it became so strong, so keen. I can tell a lot about a person from the way she smells. Sometimes I think I can smell moods
, states of mind, even something about the past.”
“What do I smell like?” Leonie asked.
“Shame,” Tedi blurted, but rushed to add, “Almost everyone here smells of shame, which is like fruit going rotten.”
Leonie kept her face blank. “And what about Lotte? What do you smell on her?”
“I cannot describe it, but it’s not shame. It’s not fear, either. Everyone in Atlit smells of fear, except for the little babies. Guilt, too—I smell that on everyone. Guilt is sour,” she wrinkled her nose, “like unwashed clothes.
“But on Lotte there is no shame. No fear or guilt, either. Even after the shower, she stinks of something like gasoline but stronger, and mixed with something animal and dark, not musk exactly. Whatever it is, being anywhere near her makes my throat close and my eyes burn.”
Tedi stopped herself. “Now you think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No,” said Leonie. “I don’t understand but I don’t think you are crazy. Not at all.”
Leonie paced around the outside of the barrack for the rest of the afternoon, waiting for it to empty so she could talk to Lotte alone.
“Fraülein Lotte?” she said to the shape under the blanket. “Am I pronouncing your name correctly? Or perhaps Lotte isn’t your name at all?”
Peeling the cover down over her face, she stared hard at Leonie. “I have been lying here, wondering how Claudette Colbert learned to speak such elegant German. I thought, maybe she was married to one of my countrymen, or she might have worked for the Reich in France—a secretary typing the orders to deport her own family. And then it came to me: Claudette Colbert was perhaps a whore, opening her legs for the German boys who had no idea that she was a filthy Jew.”
Leonie’s eyes betrayed her and Lotte pounced. “I was right! You were a prostitute! A Yid bitch streetwalker. And you got away with it, too, didn’t you? No one shaved your head and marched you out of town, naked, with the rest of the whores? But maybe that’s what your friends here would do if I told them your secret.”
Leonie made her face as vacant and pleasant as she had during the long, vicious anti-Jewish tirades she had heard in Madame Clos’s apartment. Even Lucas would go on and on about the poisonous Jew when he was drunk.