Front Lines (Front Lines 1)

“I wasn’t thinking of ridding the world of Hitler all by myself,” Rainy says. “However, should the opportunity come my way . . .”

Halev’s gaze is shrewd. “So that is it.”

“Like I said: if I get that opportunity.”

“You would take his life?”

“I would blow his brains out and dance a jig afterward,” Rainy says. There is no doubt, no humor, no wise-guy attitude in her voice. She means it. She means it, and she wants to see the look on his face when he realizes she means it.

What she sees surprises her: raw envy, mixed with admiration. For a few minutes they sip their coffee and say nothing.

“I would join up if I could,” Halev says at last, voice low. “Four-F. I broke my shoulder when I was seven, and it has never healed properly.” He raises his left arm and winces when it approaches horizontal. And he says it again, the damning designation. “Four-F. Unfit for service.”

“I’m sorry.”

Halev drinks his coffee, eyes downcast, then says, “He means to kill every Jew on earth. He means to exterminate us. Is exterminating us.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to exaggerate,” Rainy says. “The truth is bad enough. Jews are being dispossessed, impoverished, dying on forced marches to concentration camps. That’s enough.”

“Rainy.”

“What?”

“It’s not an exaggeration.”

There is a certainty in his tone. A sincerity and openness and pain in his eyes.

“You have proof?” she asks.

Halev shrugs. “Your family must know Jews in Germany and Poland. You must have family. Are you getting letters from those people?”

Rainy recalls the way her father pulled her aside to tell her that Cousin Esther has stopped writing. “I don’t know.” That is not an easy phrase for her to speak.

“No one is getting letters. Not in my circle, and we all have relatives. Relatives but no letters. Not from places the Germans have taken, anyway. A silence has descended on our people in Europe.”

Rainy tells herself this is paranoia. She tells herself that the Germans have simply cut off all communication. But in light of her father’s identical story, she is not so sure she’s right.

Not at all sure.

“So what are we to do?” she asks.

Now he grins. “Two things. First, this.” He taps two fingers on the stripes on her shoulder. “And also, you should come to a meeting.”

“A meeting? I do hope you’re not going to tell me you’re a communist.”

He laughs. “Nothing quite so conspiratorial. But I am a Zionist. In the end, we Jews must have a land of our own. You could come.” Then, with a meaningful look, as if this is yet another flirt, “We are very progressive on women’s rights.”

Rainy is tempted but, after a moment’s thought, shakes her head. “I can’t attend meetings.”

Halev waits, but she adds no explanation. He tilts his head to one side, looking at her now from an angle, as though this will reveal something new. “It is not that you don’t care—you do.”

“Of course.”

“And it is not that you don’t wish to know. No, I can see the curiosity in your eyes. It’s as hard to miss as a bonfire on a dark plain.”

“That was poetic.” She’s waiting now, watching him as intently as he is her. Just how smart is this young man?

Halev snaps his fingers. “You would have to report it.”