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Things take a different turn.
I flew to Rio de Janeiro and found it a vibrant, energetic city. I spent weeks snooping around under the guise of a not very bright but extremely nosey reporter. And I really didn't find anything at all. I might never have, had I not gone shopping one evening.
While wandering from stall to stall in the huge open market, I made an abrupt leap to avoid a hand cart and bumped into someone. I turned with a hasty apology on my lips only to hear a voice cry out "Bridget!"
"Benjamin! Judith!" I smiled in genuine happiness and threw myself into the welcoming arms of the couple before me. They both kissed me and hugged me until I would have had to gasp for breath had I been human. I hugged them back for a long minute, finally breaking the embrace.
"Look at you two. You look wonderful. How are the children?"
"Growing every day," Benjamin announced proudly. "Please come and see them, and us. We have a place near the coast about 100 kilometers south of here."
"Really? I would have thought you would settled here. You never struck me as the country type."
A shadow crossed Benjamin's face. "We have bad memories of cities right now."
I understood. When I first had crossed paths with the Rubens in the late 1930's, their future had been anything but bright. I had been in Berlin in a multi-functional capacity that strained even my powers of deception. I had been gathering political and economic intelligence for the US State Department. I had been assisting a Zionist underground railroad that was frantically attempting to get as many Jews out of Germany as possible.
I had been walking down a certain street when I had heard blows and loud curses. Since I have no sense when it comes to "minding my own business", I dashed ahead to the source of the commotion.
What I saw infuriated my Irish soul. Five brownshirt storm troopers were pushing a couple around, spitting on them and cursing them. The man was trying, but failing, to shelter the woman. His fists were doubled, but I knew that he was aware that resistance would only make things worse.
I stepped up to the party and pushed my way between the two biggest SA men. Startled that a slight female would simply walk between them they fell back. My eyes were drawn to the yellow 6 pointed star patches sewn onto the couple's clothing. So damn stupid. The two being called "mongrels" and "bloodsuckers" could have been the poster couple for Hitler's Aryan Race. They were both tall, blonde and with ice blue eyes. But because of their religion, they were outcasts.
"There you two are!" I exclaimed. "I've been looking all over for you. I must have missed you at home. Well, come along them. No time to waste." I looked over the stormtroopers and smiled "Thank you for locating my charges. I do appreciate it."
The biggest one stared at me. He may have been the ugliest one too, but it was hard to judge among the contenders. His mouth worked silently several times, and then he demanded "Papers", in an arrogant voice. Before I could respond he added "Who are you? What have you to do with these Juden?"
I took my identification out. "I am a member of the staff of the Irish Embassy," I replied in as haughty a voice as I could muster. "What I am doing with these people is none of your business. I have diplomatic immunity and interfering with me could provoke an incident you don't want to get involved in."
He examined my papers, including my diplomatic caret, issued by the Reich Foreign Office. Silently, I blessed an unnamed older official in the Free State Diplomatic Service who had quietly issued me credentials as a Counselor Agent. Some people's memories ran deep, and he recalled what I had done in the Irish struggle for independence.
Like all bullies, the SA man knew when to back off. He waved his arm and with muttered imprecations, the group left.
"Thank you," said the man. The woman, obviously his wife, nodded her thanks, unable to speak.
"You're welcome." I replied. "Now lets get you out of here."
They led me to their apartment,