"I'm going to go over to Nicky's to borrow the Buick and check some details. I should be back in three-quarters of an hour. In the meantime, call Sarah and tell her we're coming up to talk things over with her parents."

Rachel was out of bed. Having surveyed the living room, she made her way to the kitchen. Paul looked at his brother with the knowledge that he was about to face the wrath of the keeper of the sacred sofa. "Who was the smarty that slept on the sofa?" Rachel demanded, her floral housecoat flowing behind.

Jake pointed to Paul. "I won't lie, it was your younger son. I have to meet Nicky," He kissed his mother on the cheek then left the apartment.

"Where is Jake going so early?" Her eye caught the paper, staring incredulously at the headline. "Doesn't anybody care?" The conversation from the previous night came back to her. "Do you have any idea what your brother is up to? That Nicky Spagnola and his Italian gangster family have changed my boy. I know he does things that are illegal. He always has extra money when everybody is watching their pennies. You going to tell your mother, Paulie?"

Paul poured Rachel a cup of coffee, topping off his own. "Do you want a bagel? Jake brought them home fresh from the oven."

Rachel wasn't to be put off. She took a sip from the steaming cup. "Paulie, don't change the subject. You've always been a very bad liar, so don't even attempt to fool me."

"Listen Ma, Jake moves in circles which we don't have the wildest ideas about. His job has brought him into contact with people who are very powerful, who deal with people in politics and in the government."

Rachel sat shaking her head. "You're putting a shine on what he does. Those men down on the pier are gangsters. I read the papers, and I know Nicky Spagnola's uncle is a big mob boss. My son is a gangster too. They say you have to call a spade a spade. Jake, sooner or later, is going to get into trouble, big trouble."

Paul rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Jake hasn't told me what he does on his job. What I know is, he is someone who doesn't take lightly to what is happening to Jews in Europe. Nicky's uncle has the clout to get Sarah's cousin off that ship. That's the reason he went out this morning."

Rachel broke off a piece of bagel and took a bite. "I know that he's upset by what we hear from Europe, but I'm surprised he's getting involved. I go to the movies and see these pictures with George Raft and Humphrey Bogart. They talk about favors. If you ask a favor, they say you owe a favor."

Paul laughed, but had to admit to himself that his mother was correct about the favor issues. "The movies aren't real. It's not like he is asking for a favor. Believe it or not, Nicky's uncle treats Jake like a nephew. You asked why he's involved. The reason is very simple. He's doing it for me."

"Because of your girlfriend?" Rachel asked.

Paul was about to reply to his mother when Jake returned. "We've got to get moving, I'm double parked."

Jake navigated Nicky's Buick toward the Brooklyn Bridge. With the mild spring weather, the bridge walkways were crowded with pedestrians on their way to the lower east side of Manhattan. They moved quickly up First Avenue in the light Sunday morning traffic, crossing the Willis Avenue Bridge into the Bronx. The Greenbaum apartment was two blocks from Yankee Stadium where the Rothstein's beloved Dodgers had spent many a long day. Jake would forever bear the reminder of the 1937 World Series. The despised Giants had won the National League Pennant. Jake believed in the adage that he was a fan of any team playing the Yankees and accepted tickets to the fourth game of the World Series played in the Bronx. Afterwards, a fight ensued outside of the Stadium, where Jake received the present of a two-by-four on the side of the head. Besides a concussion, he had suffered a ruptured left eardrum.

Luckily the Yankees were on the road, finding a parking s.p.a.ce was relatively easy. Sarah was waiting outside, greeted Paul with a well-placed kiss on his cheek, and gave Jake a hug. The trio climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.

Sarah opened the green door of 5B to reveal a living room smaller than their Brooklyn bedroom. Seated on a canary yellow sofa were four adults. On the hard-wood floor, two young children played with a box of blocks. The men rose as Sarah introduced her parents Heshie and Hannah and her Aunt Rima and Uncle Louis Freidman. Jake towered over Heshie and Louis at the amus.e.m.e.nt of the kids who waved h.e.l.lo.

Jake felt the stares of Sarah's family, understanding their apprehension. Just days ago, they were euphoric with news of Minnah's deliverance from h.e.l.l, only to be placed on an emotional roller coaster. He gazed around the room, eyeing the framed photos of family, many of which he surmised were languishing behind n.a.z.i borders.

It was time to get to the point. "I'm sorry that you have such tsorris tsorris," Jake said softly. "However, as Paulie explained on the phone, there's a chance Minnah can be gotten off the St. Louis St. Louis."

"Mr. Rothstein, how is it possible that you can make a miracle, when the papers tell a different story?" Hannah asked.

"Please call me Jake," he said with a rea.s.suring smile. "Mrs. Greenbaum, you asked me a valid question. I'm not in the business of making miracles, but I work with people who have some influence, and it is this influence that can perform miracles."

Unconvinced, Louis said, "Jake, we appreciate your kindness, but there has to be some more to this. Why should the Cubans give a d.a.m.n about our niece?"

"Mr. Freidman, as you say, they don't give a d.a.m.n about Minnah. They only give a d.a.m.n about money. If the right people can be approached, they can be persuaded to change their minds and cooperate."

"When you say money, how much money are you talking about?" Heshie asked in a concerned tone.

Jake picked at a scab on the index finger of his left hand. He was stalling, trying to find a way to tell Sarah's family he needed ten thousand dollars. Avoiding their faces, he looked toward his brother sitting next to Sarah. Paul waited for Jake to lower the boom.

Jake couldn't bring himself to squash the last vestige of hope that Sarah's family clung to. "It's going to take a thousand dollars. I know it's a lot of money, but that is part of the miracle."

They were expecting a sum both unattainable and unaffordable. Sighs of relief filled the air. "Jake," Heshie said, "are you sure?"

"I'm certain," Jake said straight faced. "Does anyone have a pa.s.sport? The money needs to be taken to Havana." He already knew the answer was going to be no. Why would a bunch like that have need for a pa.s.sport? He would get away with this thousand dollar lie.

"No one in our family has a pa.s.sport. Who's going to go to Cuba, if we can't?" Louis asked.

Paul sat in disbelief about what had just transpired. Toscanini never conducted an orchestra better than Jake was doing in that apartment. "I have a pa.s.sport, so I suppose I'll be taking the trip. I need to be able to identify her. With the type of characters in charge of the ship, one can't be too careful. I wouldn't want to rescue the wrong person."

Hannah Greenbaum went to the wall of pictures, and removed a framed eight-by-ten. She removed the photo, handing it to Jake then turned to Rima. "Do you have a more recent picture? Minnah is fifteen in this one." Rima shook her head in the negative.

"Does Minnah speak English?" Jake asked. "I really don't understand German."

"In one of the letters I received, her mother wrote she was studying English, but the n.a.z.is had closed the schools to all Jewish children. I don't know how much she understands or speaks. Why do you ask?" Rima said.

"For a couple of reasons. It would be nice if I could let her know what was happening, and what to expect. Secondly, getting through immigration is tough enough under normal circ.u.mstances. If there are any questions concerning the validity of her papers, English would be a plus."

Heshie became unhinged, beads of perspiration dotted his brow. "How are you going to do this? The more you talk, the more it seems impossible to get her into this country. I'm afraid this is going to end badly."

Sarah spoke for the first time. "Papa, if Jake didn't think he could carry out his plan, I don't think he would have come here. We have to have faith because no one else has the means or the courage to undertake such an endeavor."

Jake looked at his probable sister-in-law. His brother was indeed the smarter of the two Rothstein boys. While rea.s.suring her family, she also gave Jake confidence. "I'm going to need some additional help. Mr. and Mrs. Greenbaum, I have to ask your permission to let me take Sarah with me. She will be an immense help with Minnah. Paul is also coming. What do you say?"

"This is so very sudden. You have to give me and my husband a few minutes to talk this over," Hannah said.

"I understand completely. Paul and I are going downstairs. Decide what you think is correct," Jake said.

They took the stairs and kept their thoughts to themselves until they arrived outside of the building. Jake straddled the railing bordering the marble steps. "Have you lost your mind?" Paul asked, pointing at his brother. "A thousand dollars! Oh, by the way, Paulie is coming with me. It's all right to let your daughter go to Florida with two Brooklyn brothers, one of whom she's met a total of two times! These people may be simple, but that doesn't make them simpletons."

Jake turned to the bright sun. "I realize I blindsided you. I arrived here with the intention of telling them the truth about the money. I sized them up real fast. There is no way in h.e.l.l they could raise that amount in a year. In fact, we've actually got twelve hours to get it together.

"Your girlfriend is way too smart to be fooled. However, she knows Minnah's chances of getting off the St. Louis are next to nothing without me. If I could bring her to Havana, I would, but that's not going to happen. Somebody has to stay with her in Miami, and that job is delegated to you. If I understand correctly, the college is in a dead period before finals."

Paul walked down to the street and looked up at the building, wondering what was taking the Greenbaums so long. "Jake, you can't take this to heart. You can't save the world."

Jake hopped off the rail as Sarah came out of the door. She bounded down the steps and wrapped her arms around both of the boys' necks. "My parents agreed to let me go. Come upstairs so we can hear the rest of your scheme, Jake."

Jake's second reception was vastly different from his first. "I want to apologize," Heshie said, leading Jake to the sofa. "We appreciate you getting involved in our trouble."

Jake checked his watch. He promised Nicky he would have the car returned by 2:00. It was already 1:15. "My sources tell me the St. Louis is going to be allowed to stay in Havana for only a day or two at the most. The situation is deteriorating rapidly. We have to get down there tomorrow."

"I'll be right back," Louis excused himself to retrieve the thousand dollars.

"For some reason, this city doesn't have any regularly scheduled commercial flights. The only planes leaving are chartered. Luckily, they use Floyd Bennett in Brooklyn. One of my a.s.sociates has arranged three seats on a plane leaving tomorrow at seven in the morning. With any luck, we'll be in Havana by four. I suggest Sarah pack a bag and come to Brooklyn this afternoon. Picking her up in the morning will be very difficult," Jake said.

Sarah went to the hall closet to find clothing for the tropical weather of southern Florida. "What happens if Minnah has trouble with her entry papers in Miami?" Louis asked.

"Her papers aren't going to be a factor. My plan calls for a speedboat to ferry us back to Florida to avoid the Coast Guard."

Sarah returned with a small leather valise. She exchanged hugs and kisses with her family. Heshie and Hannah began crying. "We wish you the very best of luck," Heshie said, wiping his eyes. "Our thoughts and prayers will be with you every minute you're away. As an uncle, I want you to deliver my niece from h.e.l.l, but as a father, I beg you to keep my daughter from danger."

"Sarah will give you a call when we arrive in Miami. We really have to go," Jake said, walking to the door.

Jake peeked at the lovebirds in the back seat from the Buick's rearview mirror. The strain of the morning was on their faces. Jake tuned the radio to the Dodger game to break the silence. The boys of Ebbetts Field were hosting the St. Louis Cardinals and were taking a beating. Freddie Fitzsimmons, the Dodger starting pitcher, had given up eight runs in four innings.

"Jake, please shut it off," Paul pleaded.

Sarah, a huge Yankee fan, laughed. "You should be used to it. Another season with the same results."

Jake pulled up in front of their apartment building. "I have to get over to Nicky's, give him the car, and take care of a couple of things. I'll see you later."

Nicky Spagnola was waiting on the steps of a non-descript house on 85th Street, combing his slicked back hair. His outfit of a blue-gray Italian knit shirt and white Egyptian cotton slacks cost four times what a longsh.o.r.eman earned in a month. He loathed his day job and the lowbrows he was forced to deal. Unlike his goomba goomba Jake, he aspired to greater things-Uncle Tommy wouldn't be around forever. He didn't look happy. "I told you I had to take my mother to her sister's. Luckily, my cousin was going, and he gave her a ride." Jake, he aspired to greater things-Uncle Tommy wouldn't be around forever. He didn't look happy. "I told you I had to take my mother to her sister's. Luckily, my cousin was going, and he gave her a ride."

"Things got a little screwy, and it took more time, I'm sorry."

Nicky opened the door on the pa.s.senger side and slid in. "Forget it. What happened?"

"Paulie's girl understands the situation, unlike her family who are deceiving themselves. By the way, she and Paulie are going with me." Jake pulled away.

Nicky shook his head. "My friend, you're plain f.u.c.king nuts. With your luck, she'll come back to New York pregnant. Where are we going?"

"Floyd Bennett, I have to pick up the tickets. Did you make the call to Miami?"

"Yeah, I did what you wanted. After the airport, we have to swing by my uncle's house. He He wants to talk." wants to talk."

Floyd Bennett Field, located at the extreme eastern end of Flatbush Avenue near Jamaica Bay, was the first munic.i.p.al airport in New York City. However, its use remained minimal with Newark, New Jersey attracting the majority of the commercial flights to the area for its close proximity to Manhattan and the money that lived there. Working stiffs kept their feet on the ground.

Jake pulled into a deserted parking lot next to the flight office housed in a one-story concrete block building. Nicky elected to stay in the car and listen to the radio. In less than five minutes Jake returned with three tickets in hand.

"Just heard the news," Nicky announced. "The Cubans are going to give some Jewish agency two more days to figure out what to do with that ship. Looks like you're cutting things close."

Jake shrugged his shoulders. "I'll deal with it when I get down to Miami. Let's hope Uncle Tommy isn't ticked off at me."

"He wants to go over how you should approach the greaseb.a.l.l.s in Havana. We have pull down there, but those guys would turn you into shark chum and charge you for doing the conversion."

Jake meandered to Sheepshead Bay. He never felt comfortable being summoned by Tommy "the Corkscrew" Bavosa. Sheepshead Bay wasn't the Brooklyn he was from. It was more like Jersey with its manicured gra.s.s and white painted fences. The Buick pulled up to Tommy's house. Two muscle bound men working in the front yard appeared to be gardeners. Beside rakes, they each had .38s. Tommy Bavosa, considered reckless in business deals, had his personal safety as his number one priority.

The bodyguards relaxed when they recognized the occupants of the Buick. "The boss is in the backyard tending to his roses," one of the stooges said.

Bavosa motioned for the boys to take a seat around a table situated on an Italian marble patio. He received the moniker "Corkscrew" after plunging the device into the eye of a dining companion during a heated argument. Bavosa put down his shears and removed his heavy brown gloves. Though in his early sixties, his defined biceps were evident in a sweat-stained athletic shirt. A scar extended from the base of his left ear to his shoulder; a souvenir from a six-year New York State paid vacation in Sing Sing. His mane of nearly white hair contrasted sharply to his olive skin. "Where you two schnooks been? You're late!" he fumed. "Jake, I already called Vinnie Sapienza down in Miami. He'll go with you to Havana. He knows those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

Nicky looked at his uncle, miffed at the mention of Sapienza's name. "Great choice! Jake and me had to pull his a.s.s out of the fire when you sent us down to Florida not more than a year ago."

"I care about this guy," Bavosa said, pointing to Jake. "I don't want him to end up in some sweatbox of a cell. Vinnie knows the lay of the land. I told Vinnie and I'm telling you, no gunplay. If it looks like the s.h.i.t is going to hit the fan, you get on the speedboat and get the h.e.l.l out of there. The broad ain't worth getting killed over."

Jake didn't need to be reminded Tommy Bavosa demanded respect. "I appreciate what you have done. I wouldn't be in a position to help this girl if it wasn't for you."

Bavosa rose from his chair and walked to the gate. He placed his hands on Jake's shoulders. "Take seriously what I said. I wouldn't have gotten involved in this bulls.h.i.t if I didn't care for you. You're family. Come back safely and quickly."

Jake and Nicky walked back to the car. Nicky took the wheel. "What's wrong with you?" Jake asked. "Why do you go out of your way to antagonize him? Don't think because you're his sister's son your blood is worth more than the other guy's. It's worth nothing."

Nicky laughed. "What are you p.i.s.sing about? He's my uncle. Don't believe him when he says that you're like a nephew to him. You're still the biggest G.o.dd.a.m.n Jew he ever saw and don't forget it. Mark my words, someday he is going to call in the IOU that you signed for him by doing you this favor."

Jake didn't answer, he knew Nicky was correct.

In silence, they made the trip from Sheepshead Bay to Flatbush Avenue in record time. "I'll be by tomorrow morning at six-fifteen to get you to the airport," Nicky said.

Laughter seeped under the door of the Rothstein apartment. Jake found his parents doting on their visitor in the kitchen. Rachel was at the stove. "We've had the most enjoyable afternoon. Paulie filled us in on the plans for the trip."

Paul motioned Jake to follow him to the living room. "I don't mind telling you I'm having major league doubts. You're going to place yourself into a great deal of danger for someone you don't even know."

Jake wrapped an arm around Paul's neck. "The reason we have to go to Cuba is because people haven't put their noses into other people's businesses. If the world gave a d.a.m.n, that girl wouldn't be stuck on some piece of s.h.i.t boat with a bunch of poor slobs and no hope. I've been involved in crazier things, and this won't be the last. We better move one of the mattresses from our room so Sarah can stay in it. One of us will sleep on the floor and the other will sleep on Ma's wonderful couch. I doubt she'll have any objections."

Jake reached over to the clock on the floor beside his head. It was a small miracle that he'd been able to get a few hours of sleep. Paul was still dead to the world. Jake picked up one of Paul's dirty socks, rolled it into a ball, and threw a perfect strike hitting Paul squarely in his gasping mouth. "Five o'clock my boy. We only have one bathroom, and Sarah will need more time than both of us combined. You get washed up first, and I'll get the coffee going."

As promised, Rachel was up early. She made her way to the kitchen and kissed Jake good morning. "Ma. You look like h.e.l.l. Did Pop have another one of his spells?"

She nodded. "Some nights are worse than others."

"When I get back from Florida, we're going to have to talk about what we're going to do about Pop. You can't go on like this. Do me a favor, go in and wake up Sarah."

Rachel returned to the kitchen to find Chef Jacob at work. Eggs were frying and he already made a stack of toast. "Maybe a few sandwiches for the trip?" she asked.

"I hadn't thought of that. Paulie, with his appet.i.te, will probably eat the seats after five hours in the air."

Sarah came into the kitchen and pulled up a chair. She turned down Jake's offer of a plate of eggs. "I don't normally eat at such an early hour," she nervously explained.

Jake recognized the symptoms. "Last night, I didn't ask if you've ever been on a plane." She shook her head no. "Paul's in the same situation, but he's following my suggestion to get something into his stomach. Flying is no big deal. You're going to love it." He handed her a piece of toast.

Sarah forced half a slice and a sip of water. A horn blew. Jake pushed the curtains aside, seeing Nicky's Buick. "Paulie, grab the bags." He turned to his mother. "If you get into a bind with Pop, call Nicky. I'll fill him in on what's going on."

Nicky rested against the fender, calmly manicuring his fingernails. The trunk was open. "Vinnie got a couple of Cubans to f.u.c.k things up on the dock. It should buy an extra twelve hours."

"My father is giving my mother fits and I told her to call you if she gets into a pickle. The only option is to put him in Kings County Hospital. I don't think we will be able to keep him home much longer."

"Just get down to Havana, do your thing, and get home. Don't worry about Abe. If necessary, I'll take him over to Pleasant View, a rest home owned by Tommy."

The trip to the airport was rapid. A silver DC-3 capable of seating 21 pa.s.sengers, three flight crewmembers, and two cabin stewards sat one hundred yards from the gate. Jake became antsy. They were behind schedule and every minute counted for his four o'clock meeting in Havana.

Finally, at 7:30, an announcement was made to begin boarding. Jake led the way turning to see that Sarah was lagging behind. Allowing Paul to proceed ahead, he waited for the girl who talked a good game but her body language showed her true feelings. "Come on, it's like going to Coney Island, just a different kind of ride," he said, trying to build up her confidence.

"That's the problem. I can't stand those Coney Island rides. The roller coaster makes me sick. I get ill just thinking about going on the plane."

She stood frozen at the bottom of the roll-a-way steps. Not hesitating, Jake lifted Sarah over his shoulder, fighting to control the kicking one hundred fifteen pounds. The DC-3 was configured with two seats on either side of an aisle. Jake deposited her next to Paul in the forward section. For Jake, the trip was going to be one for the books. He sat across the aisle.