Enemy of the Tzar: A Murderess in One Country, A Tycoon in Another. Lester S. Taube

do is move the Jews from Lithuania into Russia.”

      “Did he say why?” Hershel made no attempt to conceal the interest he felt, and Katrine could see that her remarks were of great import.

      “He said the Jews would certainly try to assist the Germans, and that they must be placed where they can do no harm. Anyhow, everyone knows that your strutting Kaiser will start a war sooner or later. All he has on his mind are uniforms and marching.”

      Hershel sighed as he rose to refill their glasses with champagne. “You’re right, of course. He waves his saber too much, and one of these days he will accidentally stick someone who will fight back. But he has done wonders for the people on social issues. Look at us Jews for example. We own land, are permitted in all the professions, hold officer rank in the Imperial Army. I could go on and on.”

      “Did you know that just this month he proposed a law to jail trade union activists?”

      “Only if they endangered the security of the Empire.”

      “Come on, Hershel. You know that’s just putting curtains on the windows. That law is designed to destroy you Social Democrats.”

      Hershel resumed his seat, a gleam of pleasure in his eyes. “Katrine, I have misjudged you. I have been thinking that your main attributes are being the most beautiful woman and the finest bed partner on this earth. Now I see that you are much wiser than women are judged to be in your social and political position.”

      “Why don’t you make up for it by giving me a poke right here on this table?”

      He laughed with delight. “I suspect that the hard wood will ruin my knees. Can I settle for poking you twice in a comfortable bed?”

      “You want to keep the conversation going, don’t you?”

      He saluted her with his glass of champagne. “The devil with politics. Come on, off to bed, then.”

      At mid morning, Hershel left Teddy’s flat, tipped the stableman to saddle his horse, then rode through the streets to a section near the Jewish shtetl. He had visited Kaunas four times during the past year to familiarize himself with the city, so he avoided crowds by taking short cuts through alleys. He looked about carefully as he traveled to see if he was being followed.

      He passed a harness shop, employing a dozen or more leather workers, paid special attention to items hanging in the window, went on another block, then swung off his saddle and tied his horse to a hitching rail. Soon he was knocking on the rear door of the shop. Julijonas Grinius, a short, portly Lithuanian with a well-trimmed beard opened the door and led him into his office.

      Julijonas smiled warmly as he proffered his hand. “Hello, Hershel. Welcome back.”

      “Hello, Jonas. You look well.”

      “I eat too much. All of it goes to the stomach.” He motioned Hershel to a chair and sat down. “A bit of vodka?”

      “It’s too early in the day.”

      “You look tired. Still poking the girls night and day?”

      “I gave up the daytime girls for Lent.”

      “For Lent!” Julijonas started roaring, his stomach quivering with his delight. “Why not for Passover?” he finally managed to get out.

      “I did. But only for Jewish girls.”

      Julijonas wiped his eyes, poured a large glass of vodka and gulped it down. “Hershel, you make the day almost worth living.” He wiped a few drops from his beard and licked them off his hand. “You’re late. Did you have any trouble?”

      Hershel shrugged his shoulders, gesturing with his palms up. “Trains run late. Horses go lame.”

      “There was an incident in Lodz four weeks ago. Seems the textile workers were trying to form a trade union. My cousin, Vincas, was visiting a friend, and says he saw a fellow exactly like you in a cafe talking with some of the organizers before the police began cracking skulls.”

      “Vincas talks too much. His eyes are also bad. He should wear glasses.”

      Julijonas grinned. “In the event that Vincas’ eyes were all right that afternoon, what were you doing in Poland? I thought you were warned to stay out of there.”

      “Sometimes my ears are as bad as Vincas’ eyes.”

      The portly man poured another drink, but sipped at it this time. “Stay out of Poland,” he said gently. “The police have a good description of you now. Anyhow, we need you with us. More than they do.”

      “That’s what the textile people said. I couldn’t let them down.”

      “Well, I know you will do what you want, not what makes sense, so I’ll drop the subject. What do you have in mind about moving the leaflets?”

      “It has been arranged. Is Justas here?”

      “Yes. He’s working on the docks.”

      “In three days, have him take the three pieces of luggage to the railroad station. He is to place them next to the first class waiting room door at exactly one o’clock in the afternoon. Not one minute sooner or later. Then he is to leave. I don’t want him to see who picks them up. Do you understand?”

      “I understand. I will make sure of it.”

      Hershel gently pulled at the tip of his nose while he worked out the procedure. He would have Katrine arrive at the station a few minutes later, place her luggage next to those carrying the leaflets, then have the porter carry all together to her compartment when she started aboard. If challenged, she could always say it was the porter’s fault. As she rarely traveled with less than six or seven cases, even for a weekend, the situation could occur. Justas was a good man, and would follow orders to the letter, but Hershel always liked to hedge his bets. “Don’t tell Justas anything until he gets here–say, half an hour before leaving for the drop. Then pick a cafe ten minutes away from the station, and tell him to be there at exactly ten after one. Stand across the street to see if he arrives. I don’t want him to wait around for the pickup. I mean it–no waiting about.”

      It did not deceive Julijonas, this wanting Justas promptly away. “Is your courier a woman?” he asked shrewdly.

      Hershel shook his head with exasperation. “Not only are you too fat and drink too much vodka, but you are also too nosy. Would you rather that I lie to you?”

      Julijonas did not take offense. Instead he chuckled. “Yes, lie to me. Is she a woman?”

      “No, she is a man.”

      “Is he beautiful?”

      “He is beautiful.”

      “Is he a good poke?”

      “All couriers are good pokes.”

      “Can I peek, just once?”

      Hershel sat up straighter. One look at his face told the portly man that the banter was over. “If you peek,” Hershel said slowly, “I will kill you before the day is out, regardless of how close a friend you are.”

      Julijonas sobered at once. “I’m sorry, Hershel. I went too far.”

      Hershel’s face remained tightly drawn. “All right, Jonas. Just make certain you carry out the schedule to the minute.” He stood up, managed a wan smile, then held out his hand. “I will be back in six weeks.”

      Julijonas scrambled to his feet, grasped Hershel’s hand, and nodded. “In six weeks. Go well, my friend.”

       CHAPTER 7

      Hanna’s first glimpse of Jakob Golub hit her funny bone. She was upstairs preparing the spare bedroom when she heard a wagon pull up in front of the house. Leaning out of the window, she saw stepping down a very tall, very thin man, dressed in a fine