Chapter Five
He pondered the secret that brought Moscovitz to seek his help.
Was it to find a location of a deceased relative? To reunite with someone in
his family who still lived somewhere in Russia? Levene had a quick vision of
himself dressed in parka and furry Ushanka hat wearing peasant Valenki boots,
trudging across the vasty mountain ranges of eastern Russia, calling out to
Moscovitz’s dead and blowing a shofar that echoed across the land. But much of the country’s written
history concerned select areas of large populations, so likely he would be
looking for someone in Moscow or St. Petersburg. He wondered if there were
Jewish delis in these cities. Surely, if enough Jews in one city –a deli will
arise in some secret dark alley as a tribute to corned beef and latkes!
As he savored his meal and slurped his afternoon tea, Levene
rummaged through his substantial collection of European reference books,
choosing to reacquaint himself with the many Russias of that country. He
read:
“In the 9th century a group of seafaring people established a
government in Kiev. They adopted the Cyrillic alphabet and the Orthodox
Christian faith from their Byzantine neighbors. Kiev grew in strength but was
not match for the Mongol hordes in 1238 who ruled for almost 250 years. By the
18th century, the Tsardom of Russia had become the huge Russian Empire,
stretching from the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth eastward to the Pacific
Ocean.”
Levene skipped to a passage referring to the 16th century and read of Ivan the Terrible’s ascension to the throne in
1533, while his wife Elena Glinskaya became regent. Twenty years later, the
Siege of Kazan saw the Muscovite armed forces massacre the civilians and occupy
the city. Wars, murders, trysts, intrigues, assignations, assassinations
throughout the next fifty years several times brought the cities to ruin and
despair. He read the words of Winston Churchill during a broadcast in
1939, near the beginning of World War II:
“I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle
wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma…”
We will begin with the riddle, Levene thought. Then to the
mystery, and perhaps by then, the enigma will solve itself.
At precisely 10 a.m. the following morning a soft knock at
Levene’s door brought him away from his maps. He was met by the sight of
Moscovitz frantically fighting back the overgrown banana leaves, spitting out
Russian curses. Levene sprang into action. He quickly extricated his client
from the mangles of the creeping plant. Moscovitz fell across the doorway,
emitting nervous gasps that became gulping breaths of great distress. “Gevult, gevult! A monster, a farzeenish in banana leaves lives outside your door, Mister Levene! I
afraid my life.”
“I am so sorry, Mr. Moskovitz. Please, come in and have a seat in
my office. I will make us some tea and all will be okay. That farshtunkenah plant! I
will buy a machete and cut it down! Please, come into my office.”
Moskovitz allowed himself to be led and in a few minutes he was
seated comfortably in Levene’s study, waiting for his trembling to subside. The
patio windows were opened. A soft breeze helped to soothe the moment. Levene
busied himself with teacups while the hot water made gurgling sounds in the pot
that rested uneasily upon a stack of books. He resolved to buy poison the next
day and pour it in the roots of the banana tree.
Eventually Moscovitz recovered his composure. Sipping hot tea he
resumed their conversation of the previous day. “Mr. Levene. You consider
history I share yesterday?”
"Yes, Mr. Moscovitz. Your story had made me very curious to
know the remaining details. I only hope I can be of service to you."
