Jacob scratched his chin. “Even if we fix everything and replenish supplies, might this happen again?”
“That’s a good point, but what are we going to do?” Hermann asked, closing the drawers behind the counter, inspecting the broken locks.
“Let’s help Herr Wagner get the door fixed and see what we still have left,” Jacob answered. “Even if it’s just a few things, it’s still better than nothing.”
They placed everything of value in the storeroom, fixing the lock with a spare Lars brought from his offices. They used whatever scrap material they found to board up the door as well as they could.
Jacob and Lars were scrubbing paint off the windows when two city officials showed up along with two grim-faced policemen.
“Are you Hermann Kagan?” one of the officials asked Jacob, looking at a ledger in his hand.
Jacob dropped his sponge in the bucket next to him. “No, that’s my father—he’s right there”—he pointed at Hermann, who was coming outside with a fresh bucket of water and soap.
“What’s going on?” Hermann asked, placing the bucket on the street. Lars stopped scrubbing and walked over as well.
“Your license to run this pharmacy has been revoked.” The man with the ledger spoke without emotion, placing a mark on his piece of paper.
Hermann’s countenance dropped, and Lars looked incredulous. Jacob was the first to recover.
“What do you mean? We’ve run this pharmacy for over sixty years.”
The man with the ledger looked up, forming a scowl. “And now you don’t anymore. Orders from the city council.”
“But we own the building,” Jacob said, glaring at the man.
The man with the ledger held Jacob’s stare. The policemen behind him stepped closer. “According to this document, the building is now owned by the city of Berlin.” He handed an official-looking document to Hermann, who stared at it shell-shocked.
Jacob took the document and quickly scanned it, frowning. “The building is taken as part of repayment to the state?”
The official shrugged.
Jacob was incredulous. “Repayment for what?”
“For the riots. You did hear Goering’s announcement earlier today, right?”
Jacob looked at the man in confusion. What announcement?
The man continued: “All damages are to be paid by the Jewish community.” He waved his arm at the street behind him.
“What’s going to happen to our pharmacy?”
“I don’t know, and frankly, it’s none of your business anymore. Take your belongings and get out.”
Jacob shook his head. “This can’t be happening.”
One of the police officers stepped forward. “Get your stuff—you have five minutes, then we lock the pharmacy.”
The three men put everything they could in a few boxes. Hermann insisted on taking most of his prized collection of medical books. Apart from that, there wasn’t a lot they could take after the looting. Hermann, Jacob, and Lars stepped out of the pharmacy, the police officers shutting and locking the door behind them.
The city officials left without another word.
“What now?” Hermann asked, deflated, and standing in front of the shop.
“I’m sure it’s all a big mistake,” Jacob said with little conviction. “There’s only one place to go to get this fixed.”
The square in front of Rotes Rathaus—Berlin’s city hall—was packed.
“There must be at least two hundred people here,” Hermann said.
People were angry and desperate. A large group of uniformed policemen blocked the building entrance—City Hall wanted to avoid any confrontation. A man with a megaphone stepped outside, carefully staying behind the police cordon. He looked uncomfortable as his eyes darted about warily.
“May I have your attention for a moment?” he ordered the crowd. He fumbled with a piece of paper. “Due to recent events, the Rathaus will remain closed today. We have a lot of things to take care of, and we will not process any public petitions today.”
The people around Jacob looked confused as angry murmurs spread through the crowd. His father looked at him with resignation in his eyes.
“That’s hardly a surprise,” Hermann said. “This way, nobody can complain about losing their business.”
A woman standing nearby overheard him. “Did you lose yours as well?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “They took our bakery this morning. We thought we were lucky because we’re a little out of the center. It wasn’t set on fire, and we only needed to repair the front windows.”
Jacob nodded. “About the same as our pharmacy. The city officials showed up when we were cleaning up.”
“They told us the bakery was taken as a repayment for the riot,” she said, the pain visible in her eyes. “But what did we do? It was Goebbels’ criminals smashing up the city. And they only attacked our houses and shops. Our neighbors couldn’t stop it, either.”
“I don’t think anybody could’ve stopped it,” Jacob said. “There were too many of them.” He recounted what had happened with Belgardt in front of the New Synagogue.
“One of the few good ones, I’m afraid,” the lady said.
The man with the megaphone finished his announcement, but by now, nobody was listening to him anymore. They were talking amongst themselves, sharing the same worries Jacob and his father had. Some people were dissatisfied with the statement and shouted at the man, who was on his way back inside.
“How are we supposed to feed our families? You took our businesses!” A heavyset man pushed forward. He was only a few steps from the cordon of police before they stepped forward in a single line, forcing the man back.
The rest of the crowd pushed forward. “This is wrong!” one shouted, and another called out, “It was the Brownshirts who destroyed our city and businesses! Why do we have to pay for it?”
The man with the megaphone hesitated and signaled to the policemen before he disappeared inside the building.
The policemen took out their batons.
“Move back and disperse!” one of them shouted at the crowd. “Go back to your homes. You heard him—the Rathaus is closed!”
Jacob remained at the back of the crowd until Hermann tugged at his jacket.
“Perhaps it’s time to leave, Jaco.”
At home, Jacob and Hermann found Elsa pouring a cup of tea for Ethan at the Kagans’ kitchen table. Jacob told them about the pharmacy being taken by the city as Hermann sat down heavily next to his wife.
“It gets worse, Jaco,” Ethan said, getting up from the table. “They’re arresting people all over the city.”
“Arresting people? What people?” Jacob asked, dreading the answer.
“Our people.”
Hermann looked at Elsa, who just shook her head.
“They’re arresting guys our age. It started during the night, but they’re rounding up people as we speak,” Ethan continued. “Our neighbor’s sons were picked up last night.”
“By whom?” Jacob asked.
Ethan sat down and put his hands on the table. “The Gestapo, mostly. Nobody’s told where they’re taken.”