"I don't want your whore, hear me? I want names, the money that's been paid to you."
Ruda had followed Kellerman out of the house and offered herself. He turned and spat at her; he never paid for women, he didn't want a whore.
"I want papers," Ruda said. "Can you get them for me? My husband said you could, I have money..."
He had stuck his thumbs into his suspenders. "I can get anybody anything they can pay for. You got the money, I'll get you the visas, passport — anything you want."
"I've got my marriage license, I've got proof of who I am."
He had laughed in her face, told her he needed only money. He would supply a name, get tickets for anywhere in the world — all she had to have was money!
When she learned how much, her heart sank; still she tried as hard as she could. But then Jeczawitz's drinking got out of hand, they lost two cabaret spots, and she had to get him sober enough to keep the third. That night their audience was a rowdy bunch. They were performers from the big circus, she was told.
Ruda had found out who the big man in the audience was, and she even tried to pick him up after the show, but he had virtually knocked her off her feet before his taxi drove off. Later, she had gone looking for him because she was certain he could get her out of Berlin. She had pushed her way into his trailer and he had given her money, told her he was leaving, that he couldn't get her a job.
When she got back to her room she found Rudi huddled on the bed.
"Kellerman's been here. He's not coming back, they kicked me out of the club, Ruda." He opened his arms up to her, wanting comfort, but she slapped his face.
"He was my only hope. You've ruined everything, where is he? Tell me where I can find him!"
Rudi lay down again, said there was no way Kellerman would do business with her, he hated whores.
She went to her hiding place, to look for her tin box. It was gone, as was all the money she'd saved.
"Oh no, please... please tell me you didn't take my money, please tell me you didn't."
He hung his head, shamefaced. "I owed Kellerman, I had to give him money, it had been paid to me... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
She punched him, and he tried to fend her off. He screamed out that Kellerman lived in the Kreuzberg district, that was all he knew. He never went to his place, Kellerman always contacted him. He started to cry, covering his face with his hands, blubbering his children's names.
"Shut up. I don't want to hear about your fucking children, your wife, your mother, you survived, you're alive!"
He sat up. "No. I am dead, I wish to God I were dead, like my babies, my wife... Oh God help me, why did they have to die?"
Ruda smirked at him. "You made them all laugh, didn't you, playing out your stupid tricks, Mister Wizard? What else did you do, huh? You had to do something else at the camps. You think I don't know? You named names... You gave those bastards names... You killed your own babies, you bastard!"
"So help me God I did not!"
Ruda danced around him. "Liar, why would they let an old man live?"
He reached for his stick, but she snatched it from him, started thrashing him, and he fought back, kicking at her. He raged at her, screaming: "You played games, you were his children, in your pretty frocks. I saw you all, I saw you all fat and well fed... my babies died, but you..."
Her rage went out of control. How could he know what they had done to her, what they had forced her to do? She kept on hitting him with the stick, over and over. She hit his head, his weak, bent body. She was panting, gasping for breath. At last he was silent, and she began to panic. She felt for his pulse — and then ran.
Magda could hardly understand what she was saying. Ruda was on her knees, begging her to help, asking what she should do. She had to have somebody help her. "Mama, please, he lied to me... he took all my money, and he never got me papers... all my money... please, please help me. He said he would go to the police, tell them about you, tell them about the forged papers, he's really sick."
Magda sighed, threw on her coat, said she would come and see the old bastard, get a doctor if he needed one. "This is the last time Ruda, you don't come to me for anything, understand?"
Magda took the old man's pulse. He was alive, just, but she doubted that he would last long. She told Ruda to strip him and stuff his clothes into his case. Ruda did as she was told. Magda collected all the pitiful possessions around the room, scooping everything into an old sack. She then opened a cupboard. Jeczawitz moaned, his eyes opened, and he begged Magda to help him; she gestured for Ruda to grab his legs, and they heaved him into the closet, drawing his legs up, pushing and shoving him into the tiny space.
"He's alive, Magda, he's still alive, what if he gets out?" Magda snatched a piece of rag, stuffed it into his mouth. "Hold his nose, hold his nose so he can't breathe, you stupid bitch!"
Ruda pinched his nose as he twisted and made weak attempts to push her away; then his chest heaved, once, twice... Still Ruda held on to his nose, then he gurgled, and there was no more movement. He was dead. Magda looked around the room, saw the old knife, and picked it up. "Use this, cut it out."
Ruda was panic-stricken, not understanding.
"The tattoo, his number, they can trace who he is, cut it off his arm, and hurry up. I'll take his case, dump it, just clean everything up, cover him up, shut the door."
Ruda averted her face as she sliced into his frail arm, hacking at the skin. The knife was serrated, it seemed to take a long and terrible time. Magda tied a knot to close the sack, and shouted for Ruda to hurry. "Gimme the knife, come on!"
Magda left Ruda, telling her to make sure to leave nothing that could be traced back to her. Ruda pushed the cupboard door shut, pressing her body against it. But his hand was caught, and she had to open the door again. It was then that she saw his old cloak and threw it over his head, slamming the doors shut. She got a block of wood and dragged it against the cupboard, then bricks, anything she could lay her hands on. She scrambled in the filth and dirt. Ripping up newspapers, she lit a fire, stacking wood on top of the papers. She closed the heavy door to the room, and prayed the fire would ignite.
The fire smoldered, and it was the smoke that eventually drew the attention of a passerby. The fire was put out, having only partly gutted the room. Anything of value still intact was swiftly taken. A new occupant was ready to take over the squalid room, but the police boarded it up. The dead man remained undiscovered for weeks.
Magda was almost surprised when Ruda showed up; she poured her a vodka, straight. Ruda was still shaking as she thanked Magda. She told her she would work for free, she would do anything Magda wanted. Magda laughed, told her she just wanted her gone, and to clear out fast.
"I've no money, I've nothing."
"That's how you came sweetface, so that's how you leave. I reckon I have done more for you than for anyone else in my life, why I dunno, but I'm a Gemini... what star are you?"
"I dunno, I don't know when I was born, we were in hiding when they took us, my sister..."
Magda cocked her head. "You got a sister, sweetface?"
Ruda felt icy cold, as if her body were slowly freezing. She couldn't speak, the room began to spin. "Sister?... sister?"
When she came to Magda was sitting next to her, on Magda's red satin bedcover.
"Jesus Christ, sweetface, where in God's name have you been? You went out like a light. I've had smelling salts under your nose, even lit a feather... you gave me a fright, I thought you were dead!"
Ruda smiled weakly, and reached for Magda's hand. Magda held the dirty skinny hand in hers. "You got to go, Ruda, I can't let you stay here, I want no more troubles than I got. You can have a bath, get some food from the kitchen, but then you are out!"