Parisian Police

Abraham was just about to open a new bottle of red wine when there was a knock at the door. He instantly fell back to Earth. Even before answering he knew who it was and who they were looking for.

“Evening officers,” he said. There were two Parisian policemen in dark blue uniforms standing on the porch of his small house.

“Evening, Mister Grynszpan. Is Herschel at home?”

“No, I told you before. He has left. We have not seen him for weeks.”

“I know you’ve told us that before, Mister Grynszpan, but we have received reports of a teenage boy entering and leaving your house late at night.”

“From who?” asked Abraham. “Who’s telling you these stories?”

“May we come inside, Mister Grynszpan?”

“Now? But I am just sitting down for supper.”

“I am truly sorry, Mister Grynszpan. It won’t take but a moment.”

          “Tomorrow,” said Abraham. “Come back tomorrow—“
          The second of the two officers, the much larger one, stepped up to Abraham, towering over him, and pushed the door open. He brushed past Abraham and entered the house.

          “What are you doing?” asked Abraham. “You have no right!” He did his best to feign indignation, but they all knew he was guilty of harboring a fugitive.

          “This will just take a moment, Mister Grynszpan,” repeated the first officer.

          The larger officer stomped through the tiny house, opening doors and ruffling through closets. After several minutes of searching and researching the domicile the large officer finally gave up.

          “I told you he’s not here,” said Abraham. His heart was pounding and he tried to hide the shaking in his hands. If only these officers knew exactly how close they were.

          “So you say. When he returns I want you to call us, is that understood, Mister Grynszpan? What you are doing is illegal, and you’ve worked too hard here in Paris to be locked up in jail for doing something so stupid.”

          The officer looked at Chawa, smiled and nodded. “Madam.” Then he turned and walked out of the house with the larger officer following closely behind.

          Abraham closed the door with his trembling hands. “Wine. Please.”

          Chawa brought him a glass of red wine and he drank it down in one gulp.

          “Animals,” she said. “Barging into our home like that.”

          “They’re just doing their job, Chawa.”

          “Their job is to interrupt your supper and search through my closet--?”

          She stopped when she heard the steps behind her. They both looked over to see their teenage nephew Herschel, now seventeen years old, creeping towards the front window to see if the police were gone. He had grown a couple inches since arriving in France. His hair was a rich, dark brown and his piercing eyes crackled with electricity.

          “You cannot stay here any longer.” Abraham stepped towards Herschel.

          Herschel knew this day would come at some point, but he was still taken by surprise to actually hear his uncle say the words.

-- Parisian Police 

from Time Trip #4: Killing For Country 

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

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