good German name.”
“It’s also a good Jewish name,” I said, pleased by the clean symmetry of my response.
His mouth came open. “Jewish?” An index finger pointed toward me. “You’re Jewish?”
I thought he knew. I guess I thought everybody knew. Does he think I tricked him? My wonderful Anton was going to change to mean. As I nodded Yes, my breathing came to a halt while my eyes clamped shut.
Suddenly, strong baritone laughter flooded the room. Both eyes popped open and I saw him standing there, shaking his head from side to side.
“It’s truly extraordinary,” he said. “Who would believe it? ‘Jewish girl risks all for German soldier.’ Tell me, Patty Bergen—” his voice became soft, but with a trace of hoarseness—“why are you doing this for me?”
It wasn’t complicated. Why didn’t he know? There was really only one word for it. A simple little word that in itself is reason enough.
“The reason I’m doing this for you,” I started off, “is only that I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
Anton turned his face from me and nodded as though he understood. Outside, a blue-gray cloud cruised like a pirate ship between sun and earth, sending the room from sunshine into shadows.
9. Interrogation
O N M AIN S TREET , something was different—too many people hanging around for an ordinary weekday better than an hour before noontime. And it wasn’t the usual little groups of farmers slow-talking about too many bugs and too little rain. There were quick movements of their hands and high excitement in their voices. “And I’ll tell you this—them people would sooner espionage you than look at you.”
There were also late-model cars licensed “Arkansas—Landof Opportunity,” but with a combination of letters and numbers that marked them as having come from places other than here.
Everywhere this strong current of excitement and pleasure, only slightly disguised, that at long last something pretty big had happened right here in Jenkinsville.
I stood in front of our store, watching the editor of the Gazette holding informal court for six of Jenkinsville’s leading citizens. Mr. Blakey looked up as a shiny black sedan passed slowly down Main Street. He studied the two business-suited occupants before reporting, “FBI agents from the Little Rock bureau. Those fellers gonna find out this was no ordinary escape. No, sir!”
“Then you figger the POW was fixin’ to join up with them eight saboteurs?” asked Mr. Jackson.
“I didn’t say that,” answered Mr. Blakey. “Still, something’s mighty fishy. Harold himself told me that the Nazi was seen sitting on his bunk at five o’clock; at five fifteen he was reported missing; and at five seventeen those Dobermans couldn’t find a scent worth picking up.”
“What about the train, the five fifteen to Memphis?” asked Mr. Henkins.
Mr. Blakey nodded. “Gone through with a fine tooth. Why, that train was held up for better’n thirty minutes in Ebow.” He shook his head. “No, sir, I’m telling you this was no ordinary escape.”
Mr. Jackson said, “Quent, why don’t you quit saying what it ain’t and tell us what you think it is.”
Mr. Blakey swallowed down some excess saliva. “If you want my opinion, I will say this—Reiker had to have help. All right, if he had help where did he get it from?” Mr.Blakey was like a champion fighter readying his knockout punch. “Not from inside the camp, I’ll wager, ’cause them guards are good clean Americans.”
The crescent of men tightened around Blakey. “If you fellers will recall,” he continued, “a couple of weeks ago there was this troop train that derailed in California. Before that an Army Air Corps plane up and explodes over New Jersey. And yesterday, the very same day that Reiker escapes, four Nazi saboteurs are landed on the Florida coast while four more land on Long Island. And you want to know what I think? I’m gonna spell it out for you. I
“It’s also a good Jewish name,” I said, pleased by the clean symmetry of my response.
His mouth came open. “Jewish?” An index finger pointed toward me. “You’re Jewish?”
I thought he knew. I guess I thought everybody knew. Does he think I tricked him? My wonderful Anton was going to change to mean. As I nodded Yes, my breathing came to a halt while my eyes clamped shut.
Suddenly, strong baritone laughter flooded the room. Both eyes popped open and I saw him standing there, shaking his head from side to side.
“It’s truly extraordinary,” he said. “Who would believe it? ‘Jewish girl risks all for German soldier.’ Tell me, Patty Bergen—” his voice became soft, but with a trace of hoarseness—“why are you doing this for me?”
It wasn’t complicated. Why didn’t he know? There was really only one word for it. A simple little word that in itself is reason enough.
“The reason I’m doing this for you,” I started off, “is only that I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
Anton turned his face from me and nodded as though he understood. Outside, a blue-gray cloud cruised like a pirate ship between sun and earth, sending the room from sunshine into shadows.
9. Interrogation
O N M AIN S TREET , something was different—too many people hanging around for an ordinary weekday better than an hour before noontime. And it wasn’t the usual little groups of farmers slow-talking about too many bugs and too little rain. There were quick movements of their hands and high excitement in their voices. “And I’ll tell you this—them people would sooner espionage you than look at you.”
There were also late-model cars licensed “Arkansas—Landof Opportunity,” but with a combination of letters and numbers that marked them as having come from places other than here.
Everywhere this strong current of excitement and pleasure, only slightly disguised, that at long last something pretty big had happened right here in Jenkinsville.
I stood in front of our store, watching the editor of the Gazette holding informal court for six of Jenkinsville’s leading citizens. Mr. Blakey looked up as a shiny black sedan passed slowly down Main Street. He studied the two business-suited occupants before reporting, “FBI agents from the Little Rock bureau. Those fellers gonna find out this was no ordinary escape. No, sir!”
“Then you figger the POW was fixin’ to join up with them eight saboteurs?” asked Mr. Jackson.
“I didn’t say that,” answered Mr. Blakey. “Still, something’s mighty fishy. Harold himself told me that the Nazi was seen sitting on his bunk at five o’clock; at five fifteen he was reported missing; and at five seventeen those Dobermans couldn’t find a scent worth picking up.”
“What about the train, the five fifteen to Memphis?” asked Mr. Henkins.
Mr. Blakey nodded. “Gone through with a fine tooth. Why, that train was held up for better’n thirty minutes in Ebow.” He shook his head. “No, sir, I’m telling you this was no ordinary escape.”
Mr. Jackson said, “Quent, why don’t you quit saying what it ain’t and tell us what you think it is.”
Mr. Blakey swallowed down some excess saliva. “If you want my opinion, I will say this—Reiker had to have help. All right, if he had help where did he get it from?” Mr.Blakey was like a champion fighter readying his knockout punch. “Not from inside the camp, I’ll wager, ’cause them guards are good clean Americans.”
The crescent of men tightened around Blakey. “If you fellers will recall,” he continued, “a couple of weeks ago there was this troop train that derailed in California. Before that an Army Air Corps plane up and explodes over New Jersey. And yesterday, the very same day that Reiker escapes, four Nazi saboteurs are landed on the Florida coast while four more land on Long Island. And you want to know what I think? I’m gonna spell it out for you. I
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