Free The One Man by Andrew Gross Page B

“A Gestapo officer was shot in the ghetto and so they took everyone in my family’s building outside and executed them in retribution, right in the square. ‘Forty to one,’ they called it.”
    â€œYes.” Colonel Donovan nodded somberly. “I’m afraid I know all that. My condolences,” he added. “My father died young too. Though of natural causes. That’s quite a burden for anyone to carry. A man of your age…” He took a sip of coffee.
    â€œMy sister too,” Blum said. “She played the clarinet. She was very good. Everyone said one day she would play for the Polish National Orchestra. But that was all a while back. A different world. Anyway, thank you, sir.”
    Donovan put down his cup and looked at Blum. Almost looked through him, Blum felt, as if he was studying him with those hard, deep-set Irish eyes. Even more—measuring him in some way. The impressive surroundings, the enormous desk and long table, the brass in the room, the official flags, all made Blum feel almost small.
    â€œI see you made your way here, to America, completely on your own,” the colonel said.
    â€œYes, sir,” Blum confirmed. He was starting to get the sense that this was not about his transfer at all. “But with help. The Armia Krajowa helped me to Gdynia. Up north…”
    â€œThe Ar-nia Krajora…?” Donovan questioned, mangling the Polish like some rawboned Texan cowboy trying to speak Spanish Blum recalled from a film.
    â€œIt means the Home Army. The Polish underground. From there a Swedish diplomat arranged for transit to Stockholm. I have a cousin in Chicago, and he arranged for me to—”
    â€œI’m quite familiar with the AK, Lieutenant,” the OSS chief let him know.
    â€œOf course, sir,” Blum said.
    â€œSo why you …?” Donovan pushed back in his chair, his khaki uniform jacket decorated with several ribbons for rank and valor. “There must have been a million young men as yourself with an urge to get out of Dodge.”
    â€œGet out of Dodge, sir…?” Blum looked at him. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I—”
    â€œJust an expression, son. It means get out of town. Fast. It’s from a Western.”
    â€œI like Westerns as well. I’ll have to see that one.” Blum saw the Big Man was still awaiting his answer. “I was asked to deliver an important package to safety. An historic text. The Talmud from our temple. It’s a collection of laws and interpretations, from the Torah…” This time Donovan merely smiled, glancing toward Strauss, indicating he knew what the Talmud was as well. “It was written in the twelfth century by a famous rabbi. But for the record, sir, I did not ask to.”
    â€œDidn’t ask to what, son?” the OSS chief said back.
    â€œI didn’t ask to leave. I wanted to stay and do what I could there. And take care of my family.”
    â€œIt was suicide to stay there, son, given the chance to get out. You know that now, don’t you?”
    â€œYes, I know that.” Blum glanced toward the quiet captain, Strauss, wondering if he might be Jewish too. “But in any event, that would not have changed my mind. It was my family, sir. I’m sure you understand.”
    â€œOf course. I understand perfectly. Nonetheless, you have to have a strong nerve, aren’t I right? Your file says you were a pretty good ferret back in your days there. In Krakow. That takes a load of courage. Do you have a strong nerve, son?”
    Blum shrugged, feeling the colonel’s eyes fixed on him. Still, it wasn’t something you said about yourself. “There have been many times in my life, sir, since the Nazis came, where to survive, I’ve had to do what was necessary.”
    â€œYes, I think I understand what you mean.” Donovan nodded. “Each of us has to give of ourselves in some way. Ways we never