The One Man by Andrew Gross Page A

pleased. Damn pleased.” Strauss sat on the edge of his desk. “He’ll want to congratulate you himself, of course. He’s up on the Hill today. Do you mind, can you let me see your wrists.”
    â€œMy wrists…?” Blum held them out.
    Strauss nodded, turning the left one over. “You don’t happen to have a problem with needles, do you?”
    â€œNeedles…” Nathan shook his head. “No. Why?”
    â€œNot to worry. We’ll explain it all later. I know this is all coming at you pretty quickly. Anyone here who ought to know?”
    â€œ Here…? You mean in the States? Just a friend, perhaps. No one special. Maybe my cousin and his wife back in Chicago. They brought me over.”
    â€œLet’s just be sure we keep the real reason behind your trip to ourselves. How about we just simply tell them that you’re being deployed? Everyone’s being shipped over there these days. No need to mention anything more.”
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œOh, and then there’s this…” Strauss reached across his desk and opened a file. He took out a photograph. “I suppose, no reason not to show you this now.”
    It was of a man, middle aged, in his fifties maybe. A heavy but pleasant face, sagging cheeks, wire glasses, graying hair, combed over from the side.
    â€œHere’s your man,” the captain said. “Though he may not look exactly the same now.”
    Blum ran his eyes over the photograph.
    â€œDon’t worry, before we’re done you’ll have every wrinkle on his face committed to memory.”
    â€œWhat’s his name?” Blum asked. He looked kindly yet, at the same time, the eyes were serious, wise. There was a mole on the side of his nose. Who was he, Blum wondered, and what did he know, to make him, above all others, worth Blum risking his life to save?
    â€œHis name is Mendl. One ‘e.’ Alfred. He’s a professor. From Lvov. I’m afraid that’s about all I can tell you now.”
    â€œMendl…” Blum muttered out loud. “What is his area of specialty?”
    â€œElectromagnetic physics. Something very heady like that. Know much about it?”
    â€œI know an apple falls to the earth if you drop it.”
    Strauss grinned. “That’s about my limit too. But a lot of very smart people here who do, say that what Mendl knows is indispensable. And that it’s worth whatever we can do to bring him here. I think you should know, Nathan—I hope it’s all right that I call you that, we’re pretty much going to be tied at the hip for the next two weeks—that this mission, long as the odds might seem, goes all the way up to the top. And not just in this building, if you know what I mean. All I can say is, what you’ve agreed to do, you’re doing your country a great service.”
    Blum nodded, feeling a surge of pride. “Thank you, sir.”
    â€œWhat you asked me yesterday…” Strauss sat back down and looked at him. “If I was a Jew. Actually, my father is a cantor.” He turned around the photo on his desk of the man in the dark suit with his wife. “His congregation is in Brooklyn. Temple Beth Shalom. Everyone always asks him why…? Why are we not doing more to help? So many horrible things coming out about what’s happening over in Europe. I tell him that we are, but I know, in my heart, that’s no answer. Shortening the damn war best we can, driving the Nazis from power, that’s the only answer. And this … what you’re helping us do, if we’re successful, though I can’t fully explain the details of what’s at stake, will help more than anything either of us will ever do. Do you mind…?” Strauss reached across the desk and took back the photo of Mendl with kind of a rueful smile. “It’s my only one right now. Don’t worry, you’ll know every pore on