“You gave them more money than they make in a year. Helped them obtain exit visas. We’ve done all we can. Staying in Vienna, in Austria, is a death sentence,” hissed Hani, opening the back door to the little white car and crawling inside. “Your brother will leave before the spring. He promised. As will my family.”
Leo tried to ignore his parents’ conversation, helping the chauffeur—one of the only members of the Hartmanns’ staff who were not Jewish—with their bags instead. He knew they had to escape Austria, that they were lucky to have Swiss visas, but he was heartbroken about leaving Vienna. His life, his house, everything he had ever known was about to fade into the distance behind him. And Emi, too. The unlikely girl that he’d fallen very much in love with.
At five past eleven, the chauffeur signaled to Max that they had to depart if they wanted to stay on schedule. Zalan was going to return to Vienna and try his best to keep the Hartmanns’ house and possessions from being seized by the Nazis. If he succeeded, and if the Hartmanns never came back, it would all be his.
The family sat as stiff as corpses as the car made its way out of town. Once Vienna was behind them, they spent half the trip nodding off, only to be jolted awake at every stop, when the worrying would begin again. But as the sun started to rise, a half hour before they reached the Swiss border, nothing had gone wrong. So it was with confidence that Max handed his family’s papers and passports to the young guard they encountered at the point of entry at six o’clock in the morning.
Stern-faced until he saw Hani, the guard took the papers and made small talk in German until he opened Max’s passport and saw the large, red J stamp. Then he looked at Max’s visa again and announced, “These visas are not valid.”
“Of course they are,” said Max, trying to take his passport.
The border guard pointed at the J, then flipped through Hani’s and Leo’s passports and saw that they bore the incriminating letter, too. “Your visa is not valid for a Jew and certainly not valid for three Jews. You will have to leave now.” He waved toward the road and turned away.
“Of course it is valid, Jew or not. This is an entry visa into Switzerland,” said Max, pointing at the paper, his eyes, as green as Leo’s, wide and pleading. He started after the guard, but Leo caught him by the coat.
Turning back to Max and pulling out his gun, the guard said, “My orders are to use my own discretion, and my discretion tells me that this country already has too many Jews and we are not letting any more in.” He spat on the ground near Max, then eyed Hani and added, “Even beautiful Jewesses.”
Max started to protest again but the guard roared, “Enough!” and lifted his pistol to Max’s face.
“But we must cross!” insisted Max, oblivious to the risk. “Who else can I speak with?”
“Let’s leave, Father,” Leo urged from behind him. “Can’t you see what is in front of you? This is not the man we were expecting.”
“That’s right! Listen to your son,” said the guard. “You want to speak with someone else, Jude? You were expecting some Jew lover? You don’t think I have absolute authority here?”
The guard turned and shouted for another officer who was reading a newspaper in the nearby guardhouse. Reluctantly, at his second shout, the man got up and strolled over, his expression unchanged. Leo hoped that this guard was the one they had been told about, and as he approached, he could feel his parents’ desperation also. The younger guard asked him if he had the authority to reject the three Jews trying to enter Switzerland.
“You can do whatever you want with them as long as you don’t make me come outside again,” he said yawning, showing off a mouthful of yellow teeth and not even glancing at the Hartmanns.
“Turn your car around there,” said the young guard smugly, pointing to a wide stretch of road. “Leave right now or I will report you. I’m sure the Germans will be happy to see you back in Vienna. They’ll know just where to send you so you never return.”
“Could we buy the right visas?” asked Max in a last attempt to cross. He took his hat off of his thick gray hair, respectfully. “We will pay any price.”
“How much?” said the young guard.
Max handed him five thousand perfectly ironed reichsmarks and the guard laughed. “I don’t want reichsmarks! And even if you gave me a million of them, I wouldn’t let you in.” He put the money in his pocket and said, “No to your bribes, no to your Jew visas. Now turn around before I report you to the Gestapo.”
Max, finally seeming to understand the clout the juvenile guard could exercise, motioned for Hani and Leo to get in the car.
“We will try to enter Switzerland at another crossing,” he said when the border was out of sight.
“But they will just pass word to each other that we already tried,” said Hani tearfully. “You heard what that little fascist said. He was going to turn us in. We can’t risk it again. Especially not today.”
“Where should I drive then, sir?” asked Zalan, and Max told him to follow signs for Lienz.
“Olis Benn gave me the address of his parents’ house in case we had trouble at the border,” said Max, mentioning a man who had worked in the family’s chocolate factory for thirty years. “Quickly, Zalan, please,” he said to the chauffeur. “Get us to this address without incident.”
The little car sped back east through the countryside in the increasing sunshine, driving without stopping, straight toward their destination in the mountains.
“We helped Olis when his wife died,” Max told Leo. “Financially. He had three children and no one to tend to them. He said if he could ever repay us.” Max broke off to tell the driver to be careful. He turned back to Leo, squeezed against Hani in the backseat, and said, “I thought very little of it at the time, since he was a factory employee and I had so much more. But perhaps he sensed what was coming for the Jews more clearly than I did. Things can change quickly, fortunes can turn, so always be kind, Leo. Be kind to everyone. If I can give you any advice, that is it.”
“Max, he doesn’t need life lessons right now,” Hani snapped. “He is always kind. He’s a wonderful son.” She kissed him on the cheek and they all fell silent, looking out the dirty windows as the car weaved its way through the rolling countryside, beautiful in its bare winter form but menacing in its quiet.
After two hours, Zalan announced that they’d arrived. Or so he thought. Leo looked out and saw a long driveway leading up to a very small farmhouse. The house was bright white, but the paint was peeling and the shingled roof sagged on the left side, moss growing plentifully between roof and walls. Already, although the car windows were closed, they could smell farm animals.
“I’ll park around the back,” said the Hungarian, maneuvering the car to a more secluded area near the matching white barn.
Before they were out of the car, the elderly couple who owned the house were outside, the husband holding a pitchfork and walking slowly.