A Cobbler's Tale Page 23

  “Sit and wait here,” the guard ordered and stood alongside the table.

  A minute later the other door opened and in walked Clara.

  “Clara!” Pincus exclaimed and stood up.

  Two strong hands forced him back down. “Don’t stand until I tell you to stand and don’t touch the visitor,” the guard instructed.

  “It’s okay, she’s my wife.”

  “I don’t care if she’s your mother. Sit and don’t touch, or this visitation is over.”

  “All right, I will. Clara, are you okay? How are the children? We need to get out of here. Did you speak with Mendel? He can get us a lawyer through the society.”

  “Slow down, Pincus. Everything is okay. The children are fine. I’ve spoken with Mendel, and we’re working on a few things,” Clara said in a slow deliberate manner.

  “Clara,” Jakob interrupted. “I met a man on the Bergensfjord. His name is Theodor Bergman. He has an office in the Germania Bank Building on the Bowery. Tell him what’s happened. I think he can help.”

  The Germania Bank Building was only eight blocks from the Ludlow Street Prison. In fifteen minutes, Clara stood in front of the ornate granite facade of the six-story building that wrapped itself around the corner of Bowery and Spring Streets. She stepped into the vestibule and located BERGMAN ARMS, SIXTH FLOOR on the highly-polished, brass-framed directory on the wall.

  She hurried through the lobby of the Germania Bank to the elevator. She took a breath and offered a courteous smile to the operator as she entered the car. Nervously she watched the hand sweep across an arc that indicted the floors they passed. The car jolted to a stop at six. The uniformed operator pulled the doors open and looked at Clara.

  “First time in an elevator?” he asked.

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes, thank you,” she said and hurried off.

  A few plaques on the wall with arrows pointing left or right indicated the names and direction of the offices on the sixth floor. Right at the top she saw it, Bergman Arms with an arrow to the right.

  Clara removed her coat, neatly folded it, and draped it across her arm. She smoothed out any creases in her dress and finger-combed her hair. This Theodor Bergman must be a very important man if he manufactures guns, especially during wartime. Jakob said he’d met this man on the Bergensfjord. It must have been in the men’s smoking lounge.

  All these thoughts buzzed through Clara’s mind as she opened the impressive set of mahogany doors into his office. She had no idea what to expect, but she never thought she would see a large open office with huge windows flanking both sides. The room was flooded with sunlight that streamed in from the south. In the middle of the room sat the largest desk Clara had ever seen. It looked like a Roman temple with carved columns at the corners and capitals at its top supporting a four-inch-thick mahogany desktop. The man sitting behind the desk looked up at the intruder.

  “May I help you, madam?” he asked with a heavy German accent.

  “I am so sorry to just walk in. I thought I would find a secretary or an assistant,”

  Clara said awkwardly in a mix of Yiddish and German.

  The man stood up. The large desk seemed suited to his stature. He walked around the desk and extended his hand. “My name is Theodor Bergman. Please have a seat and tell me who you are.”

  Clara firmly shook his hand. “My name is Clara Potasznik.”

  “That’s an impressive handshake from a woman, Mrs. Potasznik.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Please tell me how I may be of assistance.”

  Clara related the entire story, beginning with Jakob’s deal with Leo Gorpatsch and ending with Jakob and Pincus locked up in the Ludlow Street Prison.

  “That is an amazing story, and yes, of course, I do remember speaking with Jakob on the Bergensfjord. We discussed Leo Gorpatsch. He’s been my nemesis for too long. Perhaps the time has come to exact my revenge and at the same time help your husband and Jakob.”

  CHAPTER 70

  RELEASED

  Early the next morning, Pincus and Jakob walked out onto Ludlow Street and saw Clara and Shmuel waiting for them.

  “How in the world did you get us out, Clara?” Pincus asked.

  “Jakob’s friend proved to be very influential. He knows a federal judge, a fellow German, who allowed bail to be set, which Mr. Bergman paid. So, you’re free, for now . . . until the trial,” Clara said.

  As they walked the few blocks back home, Clara added, “We need to go see him after dinner tonight at his office. Mr. Bergman has a few ideas on how to deal with Leo Gorpatsch and get you two out of trouble.”

  Once at home in their cramped one-room apartment, Pincus assured the children that everything would be fine and they were not to worry.

  “Papa, why were you arrested?” asked Moshe.

  “It seems that the man who asked us to bring guns to the Jewish fighters in Krakow didn’t like the fact that we lost them to the Prussian prince. But it looks like we have a very important man who wants to help,” Pincus explained to Moshe and the other children.

  At lunchtime, Mendel came for a visit. As they sat at the kitchen table, Mendel said, “I’ve been hearing grumbling from some board members. They are not happy that the president of the Landsman Society has been arrested. It doesn’t look good. Some are asking for your immediate resignation.”

  “Schmucks, all of them. I haven’t been charged with a crime. The arrest was bogus. It’s Leo Gorpatsch who’s behind this. He has the police and the politicians in his pocket. It’s about getting his money back for the guns we lost. I doubt it’s even about that.”

  Pincus leaned over the table to whisper so the children wouldn’t hear. “What I believe is that Gorpatsch wants Jakob to disappear. They are both dating the actress Nita Naldi, and Gorpatsch is jealous. He wants her all to himself.”

  “Really, Pincus? You think all this mess is because of a love triangle?”

  “I do, Mendel. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We’re working on a way to clear this all up. Tell those schmucks that I won’t resign. They’ll have to wait until my term is up and vote me off.”

  CHAPTER 71

  JAKOB AND NITA

  Jakob found Nita in her dressing room getting ready for the evening performance of Forbidden Fruit.

  “Jakob, I heard you were arrested. What happened?” Nita asked, looking at Jakob’s reflection in the mirror as she applied her makeup.

  “It’s your friend Leo again. He set us up and got us arrested. Remember the story I told you about the guns and the Prussian prince?”

  “I do, Jakob. That was funny.”

  “Funny? Well, not really—considering it was Leo who set us up in Germany and who’s turned out to be the one who masterminded our arrests. Luckily, Pincus and I were able to find a way out. At least for now.”

  “I’m sorry, Jakob. That’s awful. I didn’t mean to make light of it. Maybe one day we can laugh about it. But, as you see, I need to get ready for the matinee. The show starts in a few hours. Can we discuss this another time?”

  “Of course, Nita. I just came by to ask you if you want to make a life with me. Just me. Not this three-way craziness.”

  “Jakob, you know that’s impossible. How can we make a life together? You know nothing about me.”

  “I know the only thing that’s important, and that is that I love you,” he said, giving her his most charming smile.

  “That’s very nice, Jakob. But I have a history that may change your mind about me.”

  “Nita, do you think you are the only one with secrets, the only one with a questionable history? Think again. There’s nothing you can say that could ever change my mind about you.”

  Nita spun around in her chair from the mirror to look directly at Jakob. “I appreciate that, Jakob, but I would feel better if I could tell you my story first, before you make such a claim.”

  Jakob removed a hat—one that Nita would be wearing in her scandalous and po
pular new show—from the nearest chair and sat down. “I’m all ears,” he said.

  “My real name is not Nita Naldi,” she began. “My parents, Joseph and Bridget Dooley, emigrated from Ireland before I was born, and like many fellow Irishmen, they had little money. They found a cheap tenement on Orchard Street. This is where I was born.

  “Father got involved with a gang called the Hudson Dusters, and like all gangs, they demanded goods from local merchants in exchange for protection.”

  Jakob nodded, acknowledging his familiarity with this type of nefarious business.

  “One day they ran into a saloonkeeper who refused to deliver six barrels of beer for a gang party the Hudson Dusters were planning. My father, along with several of his fellow cronies, broke into the saloon to take what they considered to be rightfully theirs. To their chagrin, the police were there waiting for them. Father never came home that night. My mother identified the bullet-ridden body at the city morgue the next morning.

  “After Father’s death, Mother needed to find work. She ended up doing the only thing she had any skill for, and that was sewing in a sweatshop located in a room in a tenement building on Grand Street. She found a job paying ten dollars a week.

  “When I turned twelve years old, she took me along with her. ‘You need to work too if you want to eat,’ she told me.

  “Two years later, she became ill from cholera and died.”

  “I’m sorry, Nita.”

  “Thank you,” Nita replied, nodding her head. “Anyhow, once she was gone, I continued to work, sewing clothes from six in the morning to six in the evening, seven days a week. I forced myself to go out on Saturday evenings, which meant just an innocent walk along Delancey Street.

  “On one such walk on a summer evening, I heard singing coming from an Irish pub. The joyful sounds lured me to the place. I covered my head with a scarf so I wouldn’t attract attention. Then I walked down four brick steps to the front door and slipped inside unnoticed. I found a place against a wall that gave me a partial view of a woman on stage singing joyously and a man hunched over a keyboard accompanying her. The audience seemed transfixed by the beautiful, slender woman with curly blonde hair.

  “After the applause died down, the singer announced, ‘I am going to sing a song I think many of you know. Please feel free to sing along with me.’

  “The piano player began the introduction, and immediately the audience knew the song and cheered. They sang out the words and filled the room with sweetness.”

  “What was the song?” Jakob asked.

  Nita leaned over from her chair, reached for Jakob’s hands, and sang:

  Let me call you sweetheart

  I’m in love with you.

  Let me hear you whisper

  That you love me too.

  Keep the love light glowing

  In your eyes so true.

  Let me call you sweetheart,

  I’m in love with you.

  Jakob felt himself blushing at Nita’s lovely voice.

  “Everyone sang and swayed from side to side in perfect unison. I felt joyful and knew at that moment what I wanted to do with my life. Whoever this beautiful singer was on stage, that would be me. That was the day Mary Dooley died and Nita Naldi was born.”

  Before he spoke, Jakob leaned in and kissed Nita tenderly. Then he said, “Now, why in the world would that story change the way I feel about you? I think I love you even more, knowing this about you.”

  “You’re sweet, Jakob. But please be realistic. Even if you don’t judge me, you know Leo would never allow me to marry you. He is a very powerful man, and I’m afraid that he would hurt me if I ever broke up with him.”

  Jakob jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair. “Damn it, Nita! We can’t live our lives this way. I love you, and I want to marry you.”

  “Jakob, I love you too. But I don’t see how we could ever be free of Leo.”

  “You leave that to me,” he said.

  He stormed out of her dressing room as Nita called out after him, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

  CHAPTER 72

  LEO’S PLAN

  Leo sat in his office on the top floor of the Flatiron building overlooking the late-night traffic along Broadway. He had recently learned that Jakob and Pincus were out of jail. Some German judge had reversed the magistrate’s decision and allowed bail to be set, and a $1,000 bond had posted. It wasn’t hard to figure out who would have that kind of money and influence with a federal judge of German descent. It must be my old friend Theodor Bergman, Leo thought. But why would Theo be interested in Jakob and Pincus? He’s probably looking for a way to get back at me for the Berlin heist, he reasoned.

  Later that afternoon, the mustached man escorted Jakob into Gorpatsch’s office.

  “Hello Jakob. I see you managed to find your way out of Ludlow Prison,” Gorpatsch said, offering Jakob a seat in front of his desk.

  “No thanks to you,” Jakob replied.

  “If I had my way, you would still be rotting there.”

  “Based on what charges? This is a country of laws. Not even you are above them.”

  “True, Jakob, but let’s not argue. You should have been more careful and not boasted to the prince what you were up to. But what’s done is done. Keeping you locked away won’t do anything for me.”

  Jakob nodded.

  “I’ve come up with a plan for making you square with me,” Gorpatsch said, standing up and leaning against the windowsill behind his desk.

  “It’s not hard to figure out that Theodor Bergman is the one who pulled the strings to get you out on bail.” He looked at Jakob, waiting for some reaction. When none came, he continued. “I assume you know that Theodor Bergman is the owner of Bergman Arms. One of the largest arms dealers in Europe. He’s making a fortune from the war.”

  “I’ve heard something about that,” Jakob said casually. “What’s your plan?”

  “You go and speak with Bergman. Tell him I want to settle our differences. It makes no sense for us to be at odds. I’ll make good on what I cost him in Berlin in exchange for an alliance.”

  “You want me to set up a meeting between you and Theodor Bergman?” Jakob said.

  “That’s right. You can act as the neutral third party. I’ll let you select the location. Choose a spot that makes you feel safe.”

  “I did that once before at the cobbler shop and it didn’t turn out well,” Jakob reminded him.

  “I thought you might mention that.” Stroking his beard, he went on, “I needed to get rid of the Monk. He was bad for business. This is different. I carry no such ill will toward Bergman. In fact, he is very useful to my future plans, as are you, Jakob,” he said, resuming his seat behind his desk.

  “You set up this meeting, and afterwards we’ll talk about bringing you into my organization full time. No more collections at the cobbler shop. You’ll have people working under you. A position with responsibilities and a future.”

  Jakob looked at Gorpatsch for a moment before answering. “Okay, Mr. Gorpatsch, I’ll set up this meeting under one condition.”

  “What would that be?” he asked.

  “That you have the charges dropped against me and Pincus today. Not after the meeting, today. I need to assure Pincus and Clara that this is resolved so they can get on with their lives.”

  “Consider it done.”

  CHAPTER 73

  THE DONNYBROOK

  Jakob found an Irish pub on Clinton Street called the Donnybrook, which seemed like a good compromise meeting place for a German and a Jew. The Donnybrook was laid out like most Irish pubs in the city with a long wooden bar hugging its length and tall, backless, cushioned bar stools. Glass shelves with a mirror backdrop featured its many whiskeys. A dozen rectangular tables with four chairs occupied the remaining space.

  In the back sat a round table. Jakob made arrangements with the owner of the pub to reserve this particular table since it was secluded in the rear. This would be advantageous
for a getaway, since the back door was just a few steps away through the kitchen and out into the alleyway.

  Both men agreed to an afternoon meeting when the place would be quiet. Acting as a mediator, Jakob set the ground rules. The meeting would be just the three of them. Each man would come alone with no bodyguards or backup. There would be no weapons allowed into the pub. Jakob had arranged for Luke, one of the Donnybrook’s larger bouncers, to do the pat-downs.

  Jakob arrived early to make sure the table remained unoccupied. As three o’clock approached, the two men arrived within a minute of each other. Luke conducted thorough pat-downs, and all three men took their seats at the back table.

  “It’s good to see you, Theodor. You’re looking well,” said Gorpatsch.

  Bergman sighed, shook his hand, and replied, “Leo, you thief. Did you think you’d be able to hide from me forever?”

  “Now, Theodor, this is no way to start our reconciliation.”

  “Is that what this meeting is about?” asked Bergman.

  “Didn’t Jakob tell you? I want to make things right between us. Why can’t we settle our differences and move on? I’m prepared to compensate you for my poor decision in Berlin. I’m here to apologize, Theo.”

  “Only a fool would trust you, Leo,” Bergman said.

  “You are indeed the wise one,” Gorpatsch said, as he quickly rose from his chair, a miniature pistol suddenly appearing in the palm of his hand.

  CHAPTER 74

  TWO SHOTS

  Leo fired twice, one shot for Bergman and one for Jakob. Both hit the target right in the middle of the man’s forehead. They fell over in their chairs nearly simultaneously. Their heads smashed against the travertine floor, and blood quickly pooled beneath them.