brought cards,” Teitel said. “And this.”
He pulled out a bottle of slivovitz that had been hit hard already. Probably the one he’d shared earlier with Aaron.
The group gathered around one of the trunks, using it as a table, and Teitel dealt cards as the bottle passed from hand to hand, mouth to mouth. The air in the little space grew stale as they played and drank, its only escape through the hole in the wall.
A sound of something scraping on brick or rock caught Aaron’s attention and his gaze snapped toward the wall. Another scrape was followed immediately by a metallic click that Aaron knew was the sound of a gun safety snapping off. That sound came from his side of the hole, so Aaron kept his eyes locked in front of him, poised to leap forward or fall to the floor depending on what he saw or heard next.
Dust settled down into the lanterns’ light. A boot, a leg and then a second boot followed it quickly. Next came a voice.
“May I come in?” the woman in the boots asked.
The voice filled Aaron with relief and a joy that he kept entirely from his face and his voice.
“Please do,” Aaron said evenly.
The woman who was revealed when she ducked under the ledge belonged on a propaganda poster drawn to Goebbels’ personal specifications. Her eyes were Arctic blue, but more sympathetic than that. Her cheekbones were high, but not so high as to give her a Slavic look. Her lips pouted just a bit, sensuous. Her brow was high and clear, her hair edged toward the platinum side of golden, drawn back in a businesslike fashion.
Goebbels’ only quibble? Perhaps she was a little short of his ideals, standing 5-feet 3-inches tall. It was a fault that most men forgave her easily.
“Good to see you, Yelena,” Teitel said, walking over and kissing both of her cheeks.
“You, too, Lech,” she said, putting down the messenger’s bag she carried.
The other men nodded their hellos but said nothing. They continued to stare.
“Where’s everyone else?” Teitel asked.
“They’re being careful, taking different routes. Something has the Germans stirred up,” Yelena said. “But I doubt it’ll be too much longer. It’s fine, though. Gives me time to work out some details with Aaron.”
She turned to face him.
“And I have a message to pass on, as well.”
She picked up her bag again.
“We can use one of the rooms upstairs,” Aaron responded levelly, though his pulse picked up a beat or two. “I’ve got a few things stored there. The rest of you can stay down here in case Yelena’s crew shows up with the supplies.”
Teitel nodded. The right corner of his mouth twitched slightly. Aaron chose to ignore it and led Yelena out of the basement, leaving behind the smell of rotting cement.
The building they stood in was less crowded than most and, perhaps because of the darkness of the halls, everyone had retreated behind their doors for the night.
Aaron felt ahead for the door he wanted. A hand snaked its way into his other palm. He gripped it tightly, its slight warmth enough to thaw out the part of him that remained frozen between Yelena’s visits.
He found the metal door and opened it smoothly and quickly with a key from his pocket. He had to drop Yelena’s hand for a few moments while he did it. Once they were inside, he replaced that fingers’ touch with his arms, his lips, his body. She pressed back against him and their combined weight shut the door more loudly than they would have liked, startling them and forcing them apart for a moment.
Yelena recovered first.
“Damn. My nerves didn’t need that.”
“Don’t worry too much, everyone here is used to our banging by now. It’s hard to take down a wall quietly, even if it’s in a basement,” Aaron said, and now he smiled. He was pretty sure the last time he’d done so was more than a month before, when he’d last seen his wife.
“I hope you’re right. Every time we do this, I’m scared from the minute the planning starts until …
He pulled out a bottle of slivovitz that had been hit hard already. Probably the one he’d shared earlier with Aaron.
The group gathered around one of the trunks, using it as a table, and Teitel dealt cards as the bottle passed from hand to hand, mouth to mouth. The air in the little space grew stale as they played and drank, its only escape through the hole in the wall.
A sound of something scraping on brick or rock caught Aaron’s attention and his gaze snapped toward the wall. Another scrape was followed immediately by a metallic click that Aaron knew was the sound of a gun safety snapping off. That sound came from his side of the hole, so Aaron kept his eyes locked in front of him, poised to leap forward or fall to the floor depending on what he saw or heard next.
Dust settled down into the lanterns’ light. A boot, a leg and then a second boot followed it quickly. Next came a voice.
“May I come in?” the woman in the boots asked.
The voice filled Aaron with relief and a joy that he kept entirely from his face and his voice.
“Please do,” Aaron said evenly.
The woman who was revealed when she ducked under the ledge belonged on a propaganda poster drawn to Goebbels’ personal specifications. Her eyes were Arctic blue, but more sympathetic than that. Her cheekbones were high, but not so high as to give her a Slavic look. Her lips pouted just a bit, sensuous. Her brow was high and clear, her hair edged toward the platinum side of golden, drawn back in a businesslike fashion.
Goebbels’ only quibble? Perhaps she was a little short of his ideals, standing 5-feet 3-inches tall. It was a fault that most men forgave her easily.
“Good to see you, Yelena,” Teitel said, walking over and kissing both of her cheeks.
“You, too, Lech,” she said, putting down the messenger’s bag she carried.
The other men nodded their hellos but said nothing. They continued to stare.
“Where’s everyone else?” Teitel asked.
“They’re being careful, taking different routes. Something has the Germans stirred up,” Yelena said. “But I doubt it’ll be too much longer. It’s fine, though. Gives me time to work out some details with Aaron.”
She turned to face him.
“And I have a message to pass on, as well.”
She picked up her bag again.
“We can use one of the rooms upstairs,” Aaron responded levelly, though his pulse picked up a beat or two. “I’ve got a few things stored there. The rest of you can stay down here in case Yelena’s crew shows up with the supplies.”
Teitel nodded. The right corner of his mouth twitched slightly. Aaron chose to ignore it and led Yelena out of the basement, leaving behind the smell of rotting cement.
The building they stood in was less crowded than most and, perhaps because of the darkness of the halls, everyone had retreated behind their doors for the night.
Aaron felt ahead for the door he wanted. A hand snaked its way into his other palm. He gripped it tightly, its slight warmth enough to thaw out the part of him that remained frozen between Yelena’s visits.
He found the metal door and opened it smoothly and quickly with a key from his pocket. He had to drop Yelena’s hand for a few moments while he did it. Once they were inside, he replaced that fingers’ touch with his arms, his lips, his body. She pressed back against him and their combined weight shut the door more loudly than they would have liked, startling them and forcing them apart for a moment.
Yelena recovered first.
“Damn. My nerves didn’t need that.”
“Don’t worry too much, everyone here is used to our banging by now. It’s hard to take down a wall quietly, even if it’s in a basement,” Aaron said, and now he smiled. He was pretty sure the last time he’d done so was more than a month before, when he’d last seen his wife.
“I hope you’re right. Every time we do this, I’m scared from the minute the planning starts until …
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