I
No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible—Voltaire
Sincerely, The Taipan
William Mueller has been troubled since receiving a card in the mail, no return address only a quote from Voltaire written with perfect penmanship in red ink.
William is a friendly man, well-liked in his community, a popular baker, happily married to his wife, Gertrude, for twenty years. They attend church regularly. He is good to his nieces and nephews. His employees like him.
William has been having nightmares, thinking of his step-son Luka, whom he has not seen in twenty-six years, though he lives in Los Angeles as well.
A friend of William’s, Klaus Burkhalter, died two weeks ago; one week after receiving the same card. Klaus used to stop by here for a morning coffee and a chat. Everyone enjoyed his witty banter.
“Mr. Mueller.” Wolfie Zuehl holds a large tray of donuts topped with colorful sprinkles and icing, “I just decorated these.” Sniffing his nose.
“Thanks, Wolfie.” William motions with his fat hands, “Place them right here in the case.” It is early in the morning; they are getting ready for another busy day. Sweet pastries and roasting coffee beans fill the bakery with intoxicating scents.
Articles came out after Klaus’ death that he was a member of the 2nd SS Panzer Division, participating in the massacre of Jews in Minsk; also the massacre of the entire village of Oradour-Sur-Glame in France. No one had any idea. Klaus Berhalter lived a quiet life working for the Southern California Gas Company, raising a family in Anaheim.
Trudy Mueller strokes her husband’s face, “I wish you wouldn’t be so worried. It was someone playing a mean joke on you.” A chubby woman who might have remained a spinster had William not come along.
Kendra Patterson stands near the door, “They’re lining up outside.” Several regulars arrive every day by 5:55, waiting for the Bakery to open. The first pastries and coffee always taste sweetest.
Wolfie sniffs his nose, wiping it with the back of his hand, “I’ll bring the breads out next.” The rye and pumpernickel breads are popular, “You don’t look good.”
“I’m alright.” William pets Wolfie’s shoulder, “You did a fine job.” Coming to like this young man. Wolfie isn’t the brightest youth, but he is a good worker, follows directions well. Every morning Wolfie has coffee and his favorite bacon and egg sandwich ready for him.
“Can I leave at noon today?” Wolfie has shoulder length dirty blonde hair and green eyes; he might have been handsome if he cared more.
“Of course, you can.” William rubs his stomach, ulcers torment him, “Doing anything special?” Wolfie never asks for time off.
Wolfie shakes his head, “I promised to walk Mr. and Mrs. O’Grady’s dog, Fluffy, a German Shepard.” Snickering a little.
Trudy tilts her head, “Isn’t he the nicest young man.” She never had children, but if she had a son, she wouldn’t mind him being like Wolfie, so devoted.
William orders with a smile, “You can open up now, Kendra.”
Wolfie lifts his right hand, “I’ll get the breads out from Stan and Leo.”
Kendra opens the door, the happy first customers entering the bakery, all greeting the Muellers like old friends, chatting and placing their usual morning orders.
William beans, “What can I get for you today, Charlie?” asking one of his most loyal customers.
“How about some of your raspberry chocolate bars. The ladies really liked them the last time I brought them.” Charlie works for a travel agency.
“Coming right up.”
“You know if you and your wife are of the mind, I can get you a good deal on a trip to Cancun.”
William turns to Trudy, “Do you hear that? Would you like to visit Cancun? Leo can take over for a few days.”
Trudy is busy packing up donuts in a box, “That would be wonderful. It’s been so long since we had a vacation.”
William rubs his chest, “Excuse me.” Turning away, dropping to the floor.
Wolfie, holding a tray of breads, steps through the swinging doors just as William’s head drops at his feet. After a few seconds of general stunned shock Wolfie says, “Poor Mr. Mueller.”
Stories soon began appearing in the newspapers that William Mueller was in fact William Cohen, a former Jewish Policeman and member of the Zagiew, Jewish Nazi Collaborators. They hunted down Jews in hiding and betrayed Christians hiding Jews.
William Cohen personally helped orchestrate the Hotel Polski affair, luring Jews out of their hiding places with promises of fake passports and safe passage to neutral South American countries. The Hotel Polski was said to be a transit hub. Over twenty five hundred Jews passed through the Hotel on their way to death camps.
Luke Branigan does not need to read about William Cohen’s long list of crimes. William Cohen was his step-father, “A pop festival in Monterey.” He just returned from a two week business trip to Singapore.
The Branigans own a Spanish Moorish style home on Malibu Beach. There are horseshoe archways. The livingroom is a soft orange with cream, brown and soft orange sofas and chairs, colorful tapestries, a cream, orange and brown Persian rug and throw pillows; decorative light fixtures. There is a painting of Jerusalem over the fireplace.
“Please, Daddy. I’ll be going with Debbie, her sister Susan and two of her college friends.” Alexandra is fifteen with long black hair, bangs and high cheekbones, “It should be a fab weekend, a once in a lifetime opportunity. We’ll be staying with Debbie’s aunt and uncle, he’s a rabbi.” Named after her maternal grandmother, who was gassed in Treblinka.
Luke’s eyes shift briefly to Rachel standing near the fireplace, “Well, I know you’re sensible, can handle things and your grades are perfect.” He smiles, “Alright you can go.”
Alexandra throws open her arms, “Thank you, Daddy.” Hugging him, then her mother, “Thank you, Mommy.” Skipping out of the room to phone Debbie.
Taylor Branigan is a few weeks shy of twelve, “Can I go too?” dirty blonde hair, full lips, a handsome child named after his father’s brother, Taylor, who died from Diphtheria in the Warsaw Ghetto.
“No.”
Taylor smirks mumbling, “I didn’t think so.” Following his sister out.
Rachel sits on the sofa beside Luke, “I still don’t like it. She won’t have us to take care of her.” A lovely woman with long wavy flaming red hair, a turned up nose and creamy rose complexion.
“We promised not to shelter our children, to let them enjoy all the freedoms and experiences we couldn’t have.” Luke is good looking tall, with sandy blonde hair, high forehead, full lips.
The two have been on their own since the age of fifteen: he escaped from Sobibor and Rachel fought in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.
“I hate you. I’ve always hated you.” Rachel rests her head on Luke’s shoulder, “I wish I could say something to you.” She is President of the Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles.
Luke kisses Rachel’s head, “I feel nothing at all. I can’t believe they knew about Taylor.” Taylor died together with their mother, “And Luke Cohen fate unknown.” Laughing a little, “He never existed at all.” Luke Branigan heads a multi-million dollar shipping company.
“Yes, he did. He was my best friend. It doesn’t matter what your step-father did, don’t deny Luka Cohen.”
“I wonder if he ever thought about Taylor, even one time or my mother.” They didn’t deserve what they received from life.
“A part of you lives for them, like I live for mine.” Rachel lost her entire family, too.
“Rachel.” Asking her in a serious tone.
“What?”
“Have you been thinking of Zev recently?” Luke has, it started a few weeks back.
“Yes, Israel has been in the news recently.” Rachel wraps her arms around one of his, “Let’s not talk about him.” The child they gave away twenty-two years ago, “It was the choice we made.” A constant regret for both, a constant pain.
Luke met his son, twelve years ago. Zev didn’t know who he was, “May be we’ll see him one day.”
“Does he know about us? Does he understand why?”
May Lin Sun is barely five feet tall, “Gabi and I have been down at the beach.” Once a madam, casino operator, landlord and drug dealer, “We saw Mrs. Fink.” When Rachel became pregnant in 1947, May Lin and her husband Feng moved in to help take care of things.
Six year old Gabriela has her long red hair in a braid. She giggles, “Mrs. Fink farted a lot.” Named after her paternal grandmother who died from Diphtheria in the Warsaw Ghetto.
Rachel motions for her daughter to come closer, “Mrs. Fink has a serious medical condition that makes her fart and we must be sympathetic.” Kissing Gabriela’s cheek, “Although farting is funny.”
Gabriela embraces her father, “Will you and Mommy walk with me later?”
Luke kisses Gabriela’s forehead, “Yes, we will. We’ll all go down at sunset and take a long walk together.”
May Lin holds out her hand, “Come Gabi, let’s get Taylor and Feng. We go get fresh fish for fish pie tonight.” Gabriela runs to her with open arms. The children adore May Lin and Feng who raised all four of them. The Suns were friends of Luke’s mother.
ii
In May1967 the milestone of ten thousand American Soldiers killed in Vietnam is reached. On June 5th, after months of building tensions over border disputes, war begins in the Middle East between Israel, Egypt, Syria and Jordan.
Ilana Torres takes a glass unicorn off a shelf at Tiffany’s on Rodeo Drive, “News is so depressing.” Sweetly telling her cousin Betty, “Tonight’s dinner will be such a nice distraction.”
The families of Elizabeth Khenin and Adam Peretz are celebrating the graduations of Betty and Adam, who are to be married in August.
Betty takes the unicorn, “Do you want this?” pretty in a plain way, long brown hair and blue eyes.
Ilana lowers her eyes, “I don’t have money for it.” Although her father sends a generous monthly allowance.
“My gift for you.” Betty graduated in the top ten of her class at UCLA School of Medicine. She will do her Residency at Children’s Hospital.
“You’re always so good to me.” Ilana lived with Leon and Jessica Khenin for eight years; her father Jason allowed it, as she was deeply attached to Betty. Jason Torres moved to Orlando with his second wife and three sons in 1955.
“Is something the matter?” Betty has sensed Ilana’s growing unease for weeks.
Ilana shakes her head, “No.” a striking young lady with doe like eyes, Nubian nose, dark brown hair and shapely figure
“It’s not my getting married? We’ll still be friends. We’ll still do things together. Nothing will change, I promise.”
Ilana shrugs her shoulders, “I’m sad I didn’t see my little brothers this year.” She was born in a Displaced Persons Camp in Germany. Her parents, Yason and Larissa Torres were survivors of Auschwitz from Athens. Larissa died shortly after giving birth to her daughter. Ilana was simply a name their parents both liked.
Betty wishes to cheer this dear girl up, “Let’s have lunch at Margarita’s, your favorite.” Ilana loves Mexican food.
“You’ll be so happy one day, I know it.” Ilana and Adam Peretz have been having an affair for over two months.
At the corner of Hollywood and Sunset Boulevards there is a five story red brick warehouse; nineteen year old businessman, Jude Branigan rents it out for office space and apartments. At twelve he ran an odd jobs business, becoming a millionaire by fourteen; both quitting school and became emancipated at sixteen.
“So, you came here to unburden yourself.” Jude is six years younger than his cousin Adam, “Don’t you have friends?” tall, handsome with piercing almond shaped blue eyes.
Adam’s arms are folded, he sits back against the leather sofa saying in a sulk, “No.”
Wolfie Zuehl leans over the sofa back rest, biting into a green apple, “Sad man.”
Adam smirks at Jude’s perpetual houseguest, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Wolfie shakes his head, “No.”
Jude defends him, “Leave Wolfie alone, he’s been traumatized.”
“Poor Mr. Mueller, there he was happily chatting away, packing up raspberry/chocolate bars, then boom.” Wolfie clutches his chest, bits of apple spitting out, “Dropped to the floor dead.”
Jude whispers, “I hear the Mossad got him quietly, for all his crimes during the war.” Said with a touch of respect for it.
Wolfie’s green eyes widen, “Not Mr. Mueller.” Taking another bite of the apple.
Adam has no interest in the past, “Can we talk about anything else?” his father, Adam Peretz, died during the Treblinka Uprising, “You’re crunching in my ear.” Leaning his head away, the sound particularly annoying.
There are several others in the room: three scantily clad young ladies, a young man reading a book called The Psychedelic Highway, the philosophy of Guru Aadav Hatwal; a young man making sandwiches and a middle aged couple playing cards at a folding table.
Wolfie tosses his head, walking towards the ladies.
Jude throws up his hands, “Betty Do Good bored you to tears. Eventually you would have broken, then driven your car right off Mulholland Highway.” Motioning with his hand.
Adam makes a face at the insinuation.
Jude places an arm over Adam’s shoulder drawing him closer, speaking softly, “You’re just like me. The difference between us is, you don’t have the courage to be yourself and I do. You have to be perfect for Mommy’s sake.”
Adam glares, “Don’t talk about my mother.” Estera Peretz died ten years ago from brain cancer.
The door swings open, in walks a young lady carrying a chubby blonde baby, “Jude, I need money for Phoenix.”
Jude snaps at Kelly Jorgensen, “I just gave you money for him. What the hell to you do with it all?”
“Feed him, change him, buy clothes and toys for him.” Kelly shifts the baby on her hip.
Jude reaches into his pocket pulling out five twenties, throwing it at Kelly, “There.” Telling Adam, “I’m still not sure he’s mine.”
Kelly sticks out her tongue, picking up the money, “He’s yours and you know it.”
“Do your fat boss, he can support you.”
Kelly makes a face, “You are a horrible person, Jude Branigan.”
“Thanks.”
Luke and Rachel saunter through the open door.
Kelly smiles, “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Branigan.” They have been kind to her and Phoenix.
Rachel smiles, “Hello Kelly.” Holding out arms to her year old grandson, “My little Phoenix, you’re getting so big.” Quickly looking the room over, feeling a presence here.
Jude stands up, “I have your money.” One of the young ladies comes over with an envelope. Jude takes it, handing it to his father, “Two hundred dollars.” Exchanging kisses on the cheeks with his mother.
Luke senses it as well, exchanging a pained look with Rachel, “Adam.” Strange seeing him here.
Rachel asks, “Is something the matter?”
Kelly blurts out, “Women problems.” She and Ilana Torres are best friends from school. Ilana confessed to Kelly that she and Adam were together.
Adam shakes his head, “No.”
Jude smirks, “Liar. He doesn’t want to marry Betty Boop anymore. He’s been banging Ilana Torres for weeks now.”
Luke’s eyes squint, “Judah.”
Jude bends his head moving a few steps back; knowing when his father uses his proper name, the name of his maternal grandfather of Blessed Memory, he has gone too far.
Rachel is astonished, “Is this true, Adam?” usually she can read situations and is rarely surprised by anything.
Adam nods his head.
“Have you spoken to Betty?”
“No.”
Luke says, “You’ll have to break things off with her today. We won’t be going to the Khenins tonight.”
Adam sees a look of disapproval on his aunt’s face, “I’m sorry I’m not my father.” Though he looks just like him, there are photographs: a handsome, chiseled young man he never knew, in far-away Poland staring back at him across time.
Luke snaps, “Your father has been dead for twenty-four years. This is about you, not him.”
Jude snickers enjoying this moment, Adam heretofore the golden child.
Rachel leans closer to Jude, “Enough.” telling her nephew, “Adam, you know we love you very much.” He lived with them for three years after his mother died.
Adam bends over covering his face, “Just leave me alone.” On the verge of tears, hating his life.
Jude smirks, “He’s been keeping resentment bottled up all these years.” Lowering his head again at his parent’s displeasure.
Luke stands in front of Adam, “Look at me.” When he does saying, “Your father was brave and a fighter. You’ve had everything handed to you, just like your cousins have. You haven’t starved or froze or dodged people trying to murder you.” Holding up his hand, “I’m not dismissing what you’re feeling now, but don’t ever think we view you as your father.”
Rachel finishes the thought, “We don’t. You have to fix this. It’s not fair to Ilana either.”
Luke tells him plainly, “You don’t treat someone you really care about like that.”
Adam storms out of the room.
One of the young ladies bangs on the bathroom door, “Wolfie, hurry up in there!”
Jude says out loud, “Oh that’s where he went.”
Wolfie leans against the door, unable to fight the tears for being in the same room as his biological parents, Luke and Rachel Branigan. Wolfie is a Mossad Agent, Zev Bar-Am. Zev means wolf. His code name is The Taipan, for the world’s deadliest snake.
Rachel and Luke leave shortly after Adam.
When Wolfie comes out, Jude remarks, “You look terrible.”
“You’ve been crying.” Kelly knows crying when she sees it.
“No just washing my face.”
Jude’s eyebrows knit, “Your voice is funny.” Much deeper, a different person entirely.
Ilana rents a studio apartment on the roof of Jude’s warehouse: she is one of one dozen tenants he has.
The room is large with many long windows and white drapes, sparse white and black furniture, a door leads onto the rooftop where she has a little garden.
“What are you doing here?” Ilana wanted to drop her packages off before going to lunch.
Adam sits up on the fold out bed against many pillows, “Thinking.” He received a letter from an old school friend, who had been injured in Vietnam. He wrote so reverently about the doctors and nurses who treated him.
Ilana walks over with a teal Tiffany bag, setting it down, taking out a teal box, “Look what I got today.” Sitting beside him, opening the box, “A unicorn. It’s it lovely? Look diamond eyes.”
Adam takes it, “Yes, it is.”
Ilana kisses Adam’s cheek, his neck, unbuttoning his jeans, pulling the zipper down, “What’s the matter?”
“We should end this. I’ll just marry Betty and forget you.”
“You don’t want that, not at all.” Ilana takes the unicorn, setting it gently back into the bag, unbuttoning her white blouse, “Take off your clothes.” removing her bra, then her shorts and underwear.
When the two are naked Ilana straddles him, “I’ll make you happy.” Moving her body over his, looking into his deep blue eyes, “Say it again.”
“I love you, Ilana.” Adam kisses her lips, their tongues touching.
Ilana holds Adam close, feeling his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together, “You’re all I thought about today. I wanted you again.”
They are interrupted by a little cry. Both turning their heads seeing Betty standing there like in a dream. She burst into tears running away.
Though they are startled, neither speak nor go after her; Adam rolls over on top of Ilana, merging with her.
Betty is hit by a car fleeing the apartment. She spends six weeks in the hospital completely paralyzed from the waist down; then she is moved to a Rehabilitation Center.
Adam and Ilana never visit her. Leon and Jessica Khenin vow never to forgive the two.
iii
The Sassoons have owned a home in Jaffa for over fifty years; there is a lush back yard with roses, hyacinths, carnations and lilies. Also, eucalyptus trees, Judas trees and Olive trees.
On the patio, Alexandra admires the gardens, enjoying the perfume scented air, not even minding some bees flying around.
“You look so content here.” Zev Bar-Am saunters up to her.
In August 1969, Alexandra arrived in Israel to study language and Jewish History at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, “All my life I dreamed of this place.” Her parents tried not to cry when she left, but they did.
“It’s a lovely country.” Zev flashes a handsome grin, “Of course, I’m partial.” His blonde hair cut short.
Alexandra is struck by his looks, “Tirzah tells me you work for El Al Airlines.” He has a resemblance to her brother, Taylor.
“Public Relations, security. I travel all over the world. It’s quite interesting work. I speak five languages.” Although he does work for El Al, it is a cover for his real job as a Mossad Agent.
“Were you born here?”
Zev shakes his head, “No, I was born in Vatican City. I came here when I was about eight months old on a tiny fishing vessel called Dalin.”
Alexandra repeats, “Vatican City.” She has heard of the ship.
Zev remarks, “People always laugh when I tell them, but there it is.” knowing Alexandra is his sister. He hears things about his family. Adam is now a doctor in Vietnam; Ilana followed him there as a Red Cross Volunteer, a Donut Dollie. Jude is a Marne Corps sniper in Vietnam: his son Phoenix drown in a bathtub. Upon finding him, Kelly slit her throat dying in Jude’s arms, “My real parents were teenagers when they had me. They chose to give me away.”
Alexandra is silent.
“It was brave of them. They gave me to good people. I had four great parents, the best life. My young parents went through hell, they were scared, they had nothing. I love them for it.” One day he will meet them again.
“My parents hid in Vatican City until Rome was liberated. Daddy joined the American Army and was sent to Germany. Mommy did work for the Jewish Agency. It was more for her elder brother and sister, who were committed Zionists.” Jude told her a story before he left for Vietnam. A story he heard from Adam, who heard it from his mother.
“How did your parents meet?” Zev’s foster parents didn’t know, his parents refused to speak on it.
“They lived in the same apartment building on Leszno Street in The Warsaw Ghetto.” Alexandra steps closer to him, “You have our mother’s eyes.”
Zev smiles at her, acknowledging the recognition, “My birth certificate says Zev Peretz-Branigan. I have one photo of them, me invitro. It’s always with me.”
Alexandra throws her arms around Zev.
“It’s not the right time to tell them.” Zev holds her tight, “I can’t visit the States any time soon.” He has an upcoming assignment in Germany.
Alexandra nods her head, “It’s been a terrible couple of years. When things settle down, are good again.” Alexandra lets go, “It’s our secret for now.”
“Yes. I’m so happy to meet you, Alix.” both wipe away their tears.
A little boy runs out, grabbing Zev’s hand pulling him away, demanding attention.
A young girl hands Alexandra a glass of lemonade, “Liat, Naomi and Ema are making brisket.”
Zev picks up the child, “There is my little Dov.” flying him around in the air, back toward the house, “Let’s go see Ema.” Flashing a smile towards Alexandra.
Tirzah tells Alexandra, “Zev adores Naomi.” Her eldest sister, “Zev is so good to Dov. Dov’s own father ignores him completely.” Whispering, “A famous professor at Hebrew University.” Touching Alexandra’s arm, “Is something the matter?”
“No, everything is going to be fine now.”
Bio
Catherine Cahill was born in East Hartford, Connecticut. She spent thirty-one years working at various agencies for the State of Connecticut. In 2017 she retired and now devotes her time to training in Mixed Martial Arts and writing stories.