Mendelssohn is on the Roof by Jiří Weil

Jew.’
    Rabinovich’s humility enraged Krug. He struck him so hard with his fist that Rabinovich reeled.
    ‘Shut up. Those explanations of yours don’t interest us. Just tell us: can you identify the statue or not?’
    ‘No,’ Rabinovich answered in a quaking voice.
    ‘So get out of here and crawl back to your lousy Jewish rat hole before I change my mind!’
    Rabinovich quickly disappeared through the gate, as fast as his collapsing legs would allow him. Krug and Schlesinger remained on the roof alone.
    ‘What now?’ said Krug in a cold fury. ‘It was your brilliant idea to go to the Elite Guard. Meanwhile, Giesse is about to call. What am I supposed to tell him? That I have an idiot assistant who can’t do anything properly, and when he has any ideas at all they turn out to be so colossally stupid that even a Jew can’t believe his ears. What you need is a turn of duty at the front. You’ll meet real men there and you can prove your loyalty to the Reich and the Leader by dying a hero’s death. Nobody will ask for any of your ideas there. And as an SS candidate you’ll have to apply to the Elite Guard. They’ll certainly be glad to see you there, because the way things have turned out, I’m not going to give Wancke anything. Besides which, they’ll be very favourably disposed towards you, since the Central Bureau will surely go after them about the guest appearance of their Rottenführer at the Jewish Community.’
    ‘But Herr Scharführer, I really …’
    ‘I don’t want to hear another word out of you. Return to Municipal. Get your things together, and hand the whole business over to Dr Buch …’
    Schlesinger ran quickly, as if afraid that Krug would dream up something even worse for him. He wasn’t even thinkingabout the front. Bad enough to think about the hell facing him at the Elite Guard – they certainly knew how to make life miserable if they put their minds to it. And they’d put their minds to it, never fear, because Wancke would get nothing from Krug, and the Chief Elder of the Community had surely sent a report to Stresovice. He should have volunteered for the army long ago and then he wouldn’t have committed that mortal sin. Now he’d never get to Rome and the Pope would never give him absolution. All his hopes were dashed. He’d die a sinner and his body would rot somewhere on Russian soil.
    Krug remained on the roof alone. Only after a few moments did he descend the stairs and return the keys to the guard. He was thinking furiously about what he should say to Giesse when he asked about the statue. There was nothing left but to ask his wife for help. Official regulations forbade him to confide official secrets even to his nearest and dearest, but not fulfilling an order was an even worse offence and he’d end up in Schlesinger’s boat. Meanwhile, his wife was a college graduate and knew a lot of people. Surely she’d come up with someone who could identify the statue. He’d go right home.
     
    Dr Rabinovich returned slowly to his office. It was actually a museum created at the request of the Central Bureau and also, perhaps, through efforts of certain shrewd people in the Jewish Community. The museum collected confiscated objects from the defunct synagogues, everything to do with religious ceremonies. It was to be a storehouse of trophies commemorating the Reich’s victory over its enemy. Thousands and thousands of ark curtains, prayer robes, Torah crowns and pointers had been sent fromrural communities to Prague, where they were marked, catalogued, priced, dusted, repaired, restored; the most valuable were selected to be displayed in exhibits. From seven in the morning to seven in the evening, office workers, movers and hired hands worked at the museum. It was a very complicated job, and Dr Rabinovich was in charge.
    Sometimes distinguished visitors arrived from Berlin and asked for a guided tour. The museum was supposed to be a victory memorial, for the objects displayed