It turns out that Franti?ek doesn’t have a coffeepot, only a sock filled with coffee that he submerges in an ordinary pot and boils on top of the stove. But the cooking pot coffee tastes wonderful. Rudi leaves the room thinking that the SS man talks too freely about his plans.
It is true that Viktor Pestek is starting to spread word in a dangerous manner that an SS officer is looking for others to escape with him. While it could be that many of those who hear the rumor won’t believe it and will think it’s a myth like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Pestek really does exist, and he perseveres with his undertaking. He could go alone, but he needs someone who is acquainted with the clandestine groups within Prague, so that he can acquire the false papers he needs to get Renée and her mother out of Auschwitz as quickly as possible.
He persists, and eventually, he comes across someone prepared to take part in his scheme. His name is Siegfried Lederer. He’s one of the inmates of the family camp and a member of the Resistance. He’s another person infected by the obsession to escape; he’ll do whatever it takes to get out of Auschwitz.
That afternoon, Pestek meets with Renée. She arrives as she always does, very serious, a bit ashamed, her hands clasped in front of her, and her head bowed.
“This is our last time together in Auschwitz.”
Viktor has spent days talking to her about the escape, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe him.
“The great day has arrived,” he tells her. “Well, part one of it, anyway. First I’ll get out of here, and then I’ll come back for you and your mother.”
“But how?”
“It’s better you don’t know the details. Any slipup could be fatal, and it might even be that I have to change my plans on the run if things don’t turn out as I anticipate. But don’t you worry about a thing. One day, you’ll walk out of the entrance to the camp and we’ll be free.”
Renée looks at him with her pale blue eyes, and she coquettishly pulls one of her curls down to her mouth in the way he loves so much.
“I have to go now.”
Renée nods.
At the last moment, she grabs him by the sleeve of his jacket, holding him back. “Viktor…”
“What?”
“Be careful.”
And he sighs happily. There’ll be no stopping him now.
*
And nothing will stop Dita’s eagerness to discover what happened to Hirsch that caused him to commit suicide. She has spent several days hanging around the workshop in search of Alter, all to no avail.
But sometimes you have to grab luck by the throat.
She cautiously approaches what seems to her to be the last group of men leaving the workshop at the end of the day.
“Excuse me…”
The tired men give her a friendly look.
“I’m looking for a man … without any hair.”
The men exchange looks that suggest that at this late stage in the day their brains are working slowly. They don’t seem to understand what this young girl is after.
“Without hair?”
“Yes. I mean, bald. Completely bald.”
“Completely bald?”
“Of course!” says one of them. “She means Kurt, for sure.”
“I guess so,” Dita replies. “And where might I find him?”
“In there,” they reply, pointing inside the workshop. “He’s always the last to leave. It’s his job to sweep, clean, and put everything in order.”
“A tough task,” comments one of the men.
“Yes, that’s what happens when, on top of being a Jew, you’re a Communist as well.”
“And bald, to boot,” points out another of the men sarcastically.
“It’s an advantage to be bald. The lice slide off your head.”
“And on days when it snows, they skate on top of your head,” adds the sarcastic man.
They walk away, laughing as if Dita weren’t there. She waits outside for a long time and finally, the man with no hair emerges. And indeed, Mrs. Turnovská was right when she said that he’d be recognizable by his nose.
Dita starts to walk beside him.
“Excuse me, but I need some specific information.”
The man gives her a dirty look and quickens his pace. Dita accelerates to a trot and catches up.
“You see, I need to find out something about Fredy Hirsch.”
“Why are you following me? I don’t know anything—leave me in peace.”
“I don’t want to bother you, but I have to know—”
“Why are you talking to me? I’m just a workshop sweeper.”
“I’ve been told you’re something more—”
The man brakes and gives her an angry look. He checks this way and that, and Dita suddenly realizes that if Mengele comes across her right now, it will be the end.
“They gave you the wrong information.”
The man starts walking again.
“Wait!” shouts Dita, annoyed. “I want to talk to you! Would you rather that we shouted at each other?”
A few heads turn toward them out of curiosity, and the man swears softly under his breath. He grabs Dita’s arm and takes her into the narrow space between two huts, where there is less light.
“Who are you? And what do you want?”
“I’m one of the assistants from Block Thirty-One. I’m trustworthy. You can ask Miriam Edelstein about me.”
“Fine, fine … talk.”
“I’m trying to understand why Fredy Hirsch killed himself.”
“Why? That’s simple—he got scared.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what you’re hearing. He chickened out. He was asked to lead an uprising, and he didn’t have the guts. End of story.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care if you believe me or not. That’s what happened.”
“You didn’t know Fredy Hirsch, did you?”
The man comes to a complete stop at Dita’s comment, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. Dita tries hard to prevent her anger from turning into tears as she speaks.
“You didn’t know him. You know nothing about him. He never walked away from anything. You think you know a lot, that the Resistance knows everything … but you don’t understand a thing.”
“Look, kid, what I do know is that the order was transmitted to him from the leaders of the Resistance, and what he did after that was take all those pills in order to wipe himself off the map,” answers Alter, annoyed. “I don’t know why there’s so much interest in him. The whole business of Block Thirty-One is a pantomime. The whole family camp is a pantomime. Hirsch and the rest of us have played the Nazis’ game. We’ve been their helpers.”
“What do you mean?”
“This camp is a front, a cover-up. Its only purpose is to cover up the truth in the face of international observers who may come here to discover if there’s any basis to the rumors that have reached some countries that the German camps are slaughterhouses. The family camp and Block Thirty-One are a stage set, and we are actors in the play.”
Dita falls silent. The bald man shakes his head.
“Stop brooding over it. Your friend Hirsch became frightened. That’s only human.”
Fear …
Dita suddenly sees fear as a type of rust that undermines even the strongest convictions. It corrodes everything; it destroys all.
The bald man walks off, nervously glancing to his left and right.
Dita stays in the side street. The words boom inside her head and block out everything around her.