Juan Gómez-Jurado
Contract with God aka The Moses Expedition
The second book in the Father Anthony Fowler series, 2009
For Matthew Thomas, a greater hero than Father Fowler
How to Create an Enemy
from Faces of the Enemy
by Sam Keen
The Ten Commandments
Prologue
VIENNA
February 1943
Arriving at the building where a large flag with a swastika was flapping overhead, the woman could not suppress a shiver. Her companion misinterpreted and drew her closer to him in order to warm her. Her thin coat offered meagre protection against the sharp afternoon wind, which warned of an approaching blizzard.
‘Put this on, Odile,’ the man said, his fingers trembling as he unbuttoned his coat.
She loosened herself from his grip and hugged the package closer to her chest. The six-mile walk through the snow had left her exhausted and numb from the cold. Three years ago they would have made the trip in their Daimler with a driver, and she would have been wearing her fur. But their car now belonged to a Brigadeführer and her fur coat was probably being shown off in a theatre box somewhere by some Nazi wife with painted eyelids. Odile composed herself and pressed the buzzer forcefully three times before answering him.
‘It’s not because of the cold, Josef. We don’t have much time before curfew. If we don’t return in time…’
Before her husband could reply, a nurse suddenly opened the door. As soon as she took one look at the visitors, her smile disappeared. Several years under the Nazi regime had taught her to recognise a Jew immediately.
‘What do you want?’ she asked.
The woman made herself smile, even though her lips were painfully cracked.
‘We want to see Dr Graus.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘The doctor said he’d see us.’
‘Name?’
‘Josef and Odile Cohen, Fräulein.’
‘The nurse took a step back when their surname confirmed her suspicions.
‘You’re lying. You don’t have an appointment. Go away. Go back to the hole you came from. You know you’re not allowed here.’
‘Please. My son is inside. Please!’
Her words were wasted as the door slammed shut.
Josef and his wife looked helplessly at the huge building. As they turned away, Odile suddenly felt weak and stumbled, but Josef managed to catch her before she fell.
‘Come on, we’ll find another way to get in.’
They headed over to one side of the hospital. As they turned the corner, Josef pulled his wife back. A door had just opened. A man wearing a thick coat was struggling to push a cart filled with rubbish towards the rear of the building. Keeping close to the wall, Josef and Odile slid up to the open doorway.
Once inside, they found themselves standing in a service hall leading to a maze of stairs and other corridors. As they proceeded down the hallway, they could hear distant muffled cries that seemed to be coming from another world. The woman concentrated intently, listening for her son’s voice, but it was useless. They went through several corridors without running into anybody. Josef had to hurry to keep up with his wife who, compelled by sheer instinct, moved forward swiftly, stopping only for a second at each doorway.
Before long they found themselves peering into a dark L-shaped ward. It was full of children, many of whom were strapped to their beds and whimpering like wet dogs. The acrid-smelling room was stifling and the woman began to sweat, feeling a tingling in her extremities as her body warmed up. She paid no attention to this, however, as her eyes raced from bed to bed, from one young face to the next, searching desperately for her son.
‘Here’s the report, Dr Graus.’
Josef and his wife exchanged looks as they heard the name of the doctor they needed to see, the person who held their son’s life in his hands. They turned towards the far corner of the ward and saw a small group of people gathered around one of the beds. An attractive young doctor was seated at the bedside of a girl who looked about nine years old. Next to him an older nurse held a tray of surgical instruments while a bored-looking middle-aged doctor took notes.
‘Dr Graus…’ said Odile hesitantly, steeling herself as she approached the group.
The young man gestured dismissively to the nurse without taking his eyes from what he was doing.
‘Not now, please.’
The nurse and the other doctor stared at Odile in surprise, but said nothing.
When she saw what was taking place, Odile had to grit her teeth in order not to scream. The young girl was deathly pale and appeared to be semi-conscious. Graus was holding her arm over a metal basin as he made small cuts with a scalpel. There was hardly a place on the girl’s arm that hadn’t been touched by the blade and the blood flowed slowly into the basin, which was almost full. Finally the girl’s head slumped to one side. Graus held two slender fingers to the girl’s neck.
‘Good, she has no pulse. The time, Dr Stroebel?’
‘Six thirty-seven.’
‘Almost ninety-three minutes. Exceptional! The subject remained awake although her level of consciousness was comparatively low, and she showed no signs of pain. The combination of laudanum and datura is undoubtedly better than anything we’ve tried up to now. Congratulations, Stroebel. Get the specimen ready for dissection.’