"I will make him listen."

"Oh, thank you, Sunny. And will you take him something from me?"

"Certainly. Another letter?"

Esther glanced at Hannah and then turned back to Sunny with a shake of her head. "An ultimatum."

CHAPTER 44.

Sunny couldn't draw her eyes away from the painting. Though it was Post-Impressionist in style, and only half finished, its macabre theme was unmistakable. Many of the figures on the canvas were just ghostly outlines, their features still undefined. Nonetheless, she was mentally catapulted back to Broadway and the morning she had stumbled across the execution site. Ernst had captured the electric mood of the crowd that morning. Sunny experienced another pang of pity for the victims. They must have suffered horribly before their undignified deaths. And clearly time had proven Franz right: the old man from the Underground must have kept her ident.i.ty from the Kempeitai.

"Not my best work, I realize." Ernst stood beside her, smelling of oil paint and tobacco. "Let me see if I can salvage it yet."

"It's gripping." Sunny finally peeled her eyes away. "But Ernst, after the last time, with those paintings you did of the Nanking Ma.s.sacre."

"What about them?"

"They just about got you drawn and quartered." Simon spoke up from the window ledge where he was sitting. "You think it's wise to go over that waterfall again?"

Ernst addressed Sunny. "This, from a man who single-handedly wants to storm the ghetto?"

Simon rose and strolled over to them. "No storming. I only want to make sure my wife and son are safe. Is that too much to ask?"

"Don't you see, Simon?" Sunny said. "By trying to reach Essie and Jakob, you would only be putting them in more danger."

"What choice do I have, Sunny? Better that I stay cooped up here and just hope they keep out of harm's way?"

"Sunny has a point," Ernst said. "Your return will not go unnoticed. The j.a.panese are everywhere."

"It's not the j.a.panese who concern me," Simon said.

"They should, my friend." Ernst wiggled a finger at his painting. "They really should."

"Even the yellow peril-" Simon flashed Sunny an apologetic look. "The j.a.ps, I mean. What they can do doesn't compare to what the n.a.z.is have in mind."

Sunny turned back to Ernst. "Have you heard more from the baron?"

"Nothing specific." Ernst pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and tapped one out. "I tried to visit him yesterday but couldn't get in."

"The son of a b.i.t.c.h doesn't trust you anymore," Simon snorted.

"I doubt that," Ernst said through a cupped hand as he lit the cigarette. "I imagine von Puttkamer is being extra cautious, now that his plans are in the final stages."

"Final stages?" Sunny stiffened. "What have you heard, Ernst?"

"Gerhard believes the attack is imminent."

"What does that mean? Today? Tomorrow? Next week?"

"Von Puttkamer told him to be prepared at a moment's notice," Ernst said. "Gerhard thinks the attack will come in the next few days. A week at most."

A chill ran down Sunny's spine. "Days . . ."

"Right in the middle of Hanukkah," Simon said to himself.

"Christmas is only a few days away," Ernst added.

"Yeah, but Hanukkah will bring all the Jews together in one spot," Simon said.

Sunny stifled a gasp. "At the synagogue! Of course!"

Simon nodded. "On Sat.u.r.day. It's Shabbat."

"That has to be where the n.a.z.is will attack!" Sunny exclaimed. "When everyone is gathered for the service."

"Sat.u.r.day is also Christmas Day," Ernst pointed out.

Simon grimaced. "You don't honestly think that would stop them?"

"No, I suppose not. Probably their idea of a Christmas present."

"Even if we know the day and location, how do we prevent it?" Simon wondered aloud.

"Will they not cancel the service?" Sunny asked.

"I doubt they would." Simon's hands fell to his sides. "Besides, those snakes would just find another time and another place. Remember when von Puttkamer came to the ghetto? He sniffed around the hospital and the school, too."

"Still," Sunny said. "If we think this is when they intend to strike, we must do something to stop it."

"I wish we had gone after von Puttkamer months ago." Simon shook his head bitterly. "When we still had time."

"How would you have accomplished that?" Ernst asked. "Jews are hardly allowed out of the ghetto."

"I could do it myself."

"I never really pictured you as the a.s.sa.s.sin type. Besides, what would you use for a weapon?"

"A knife? A brick? My bare hands if need be. The son of a b.i.t.c.h wants to blow up my family!"

Ernst exhaled a plume of smoke. "You think von Puttkamer is the only n.a.z.i who has it out for the Jews?"

"He's the one with the bombs right now," Simon said.

Sunny thought again of the multi-headed Hydra. "Killing von Puttkamer would only antagonize them."

"Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't," Simon said. "Either way, I am not going to sit here while my wife and son are stuck in the ghetto. Not with n.a.z.is waltzing around with enough dynamite to flatten Brooklyn."

Sunny clutched Simon's arm. "Esther doesn't want you there, Simon."

"It's not her decision."

Sunny knew Simon too well to believe that any of her arguments would sway him. Instead, she reluctantly reached into her coat pocket and withdrew the letter from Esther.

As Sunny walked away from Germantown, she shook off the image of Simon's crestfallen face. Still, she had no regrets. She was confident that he had been persuaded by Esther's note to abandon his foolhardy plan to return to the ghetto.

On her way home, Sunny veered off toward Frenchtown. Walking at fast as she could without drawing attention to herself, she reached the Cathay Building in just a few minutes. When she reached her friend's apartment, Jia-Li greeted her as though she had been expecting the visit. Interlocking their arms, she led Sunny into the living room.

Charlie sat on the floor, just where Sunny had last seen him. He smiled as he fiddled with what she a.s.sumed was an explosive device, though she did not recognize the grey metallic box that he was working on.

Across the room, Sunny spotted an old baby pram pushed against the far wall. All of a sudden, she felt joy, concern and envy all at once. Before she could even ask, Jia-Li held up her hands and shook them vigorously. "No, no, xio he. Not what are you thinking. No."

"Then who is the pram for?"

Jia-Li shook her head. "It's not for a baby at all."

Bewildered, Sunny stared at her best friend before the truth washed over her like ice water. "For a bomb?" she gasped. "You are going to plant a bomb inside a pram?"

"Do you have a better idea for sneaking one into a train station?" Jia-Li asked.

"Charlie cannot wheel a pram," Sunny sputtered. "Not on crutches."

Jia-Li dismissed the idea with a wave. "Obviously not. A man wheeling a pram would draw far too much attention."

"No, bao bei!" Sunny turned angrily to Charlie. "You cannot let her do this, Chun. It's not right."

"It was not my idea." Despite his impa.s.sive tone, Sunny saw reluctance in Charlie's eyes.

Jia-Li kneeled down beside Charlie and slung an arm over his shoulders. "I am the only one who can do this." She kissed his cheek and then turned back to Sunny, her expression more determined than ever. "You will never talk me out of it, xio he. Never."

Sunny crouched down in front of them. She grabbed Jia-Li's free hand and squeezed it urgently. "Listen to me, bao bei. I know a better way for you both to help."

CHAPTER 45.

The light snowfall continued to colour the streets white. Despite the evening's chill, Franz paused outside the entrance to Ohel Moishe Synagogue. Rather than framing it mentally for a photograph, as he had done several times before, he scanned the brick building for points of structural weakness. It looked st.u.r.dy enough, but his eyes kept drifting back to the ground-floor arches. He imagined the rumble of the supporting walls giving, and the upper floor and roof crashing down on the congregation.

He willed the nightmarish vision out of his mind. What do I know about sabotage or demolition?

He put on his yarmulke and entered the synagogue. Rabbi Hiltmann stood at the front of the room hunched over the bimah, polishing the tabletop with a yellow rag. The rabbi did not turn around right away at the sound of Franz's footsteps on the tiled floor, finishing his inspection of the tabletop first. "Ah, Dr. Adler." His grey beard bobbed and his lips curved into a smile. "Visiting shul outside Shabbat yet again? Is this some kind of new habit?"

"I need to speak to you." Franz lowered his voice. "It's urgent, Rabbi."

Hiltmann carefully folded his rag into a square. "This is not related to your previous visit, then?" Franz shook his head. "So have you made your peace with your actions?"

"In a way, yes," Franz said, though it was far from the truth. Not a night had pa.s.sed without him thinking about Colonel Tanaka on the operating table. No amount of rationalization could overcome his sense that he had betrayed both a patient and his profession. But this was not the time for introspection. "Rabbi, I have concerns about the security of the synagogue."

Hiltmann frowned. "Security? Of the shul? What do the misrachdik have in mind for us this time?"

"No, not the j.a.panese, Rabbi. The n.a.z.is."

The rag dropped to his side. "The n.a.z.is?" Hiltmann repeated slowly.

"We have reason to believe they intend to bomb the synagogue."

The rabbi's head jerked up as if he had been slapped. "How could you possibly know this?"

"I have a friend. He is Austrian. A gentile." Without mentioning Ernst by name, Franz shared what he knew of von Puttkamer's plans. "Rabbi, you must cancel the Shabbat service tomorrow morning."

Hiltmann stared up at the ark of the Torah for a long moment before answering. "You are certain that the temple is their target?"

"We can a.s.sume it, Rabbi. The school is closed for Hanukkah. And attacking the hospital would not have the same . . . impact as targeting the synagogue. Especially not tomorrow."

"So you are also a.s.suming the attack will come tomorrow."

"When else?" Franz groaned. "Much of the refugee community will be gathered here for the Hanukkah service. And for the goyim, it's Christmas Day."

The rabbi sighed so heavily that his lips whistled. "But to cancel prayers on a Sabbath?"

"Surely it's acceptable if lives are at risk."

Hiltmann stroked his beard. "Pikuakh nefesh," he muttered.

"I am not familiar with that term."

"Pikuakh nefesh. A principle in Jewish law whereby the preservation of life overrides almost all other religious considerations."

"Yes, exactly. There couldn't be a more fitting application."

The rabbi considered this. "They have taken everything from us, have they not?" he finally said. "Our homes and all our possessions. They divided our families and drove us across two oceans. Yet it seems that is still not enough for them."

"Nothing will be, Rabbi."

"On Kristallnacht, I watched from the apartment across the street as they burned my synagogue to the ground." Hiltmann's eyes drifted over to the ark again. "Out front, they made a bonfire from the scrolls of our beautiful Torah. Our cantor, Yitzhak Hirschberg. Yitzhak was young and so naive." He shook his head gravely. "Yitzhak ran out and begged them to stop. You know what happened?"

"I can only imagine."