James Benn - Rag and Bone

We drove on a wood-lined gravel driveway, passing two Home Guard soldiers patrolling the grounds. One of them gave us a cheery wave. As we neared the house, a civilian cradling a shotgun in one arm, and holding two dogs on a short leash by the other hand, crossed in front of us.

“Are they trying to keep people in or out of this place?” Big Mike said.

“Both. Probably a lot of secrets locked up in the heads of patients here. Wouldn’t do to have any of them wander off and start yakking with the locals.” Around a corner the woods thinned out and a great, green lawn opened up, with a four-story, ivy-encrusted granite building set on the far side. Patients wrapped in blankets sat in chairs on the lawn, facing the sun. Nurses pushed some in wheelchairs, or held onto the elbows of others as they took slow, hesitant steps. Some were dull eyed, their vacant stares focused on some distant vision. Others moved in abrupt spurts of energy, their eyes searching us for signs of recognition, salvation, or threat.

“Who are these people?” Big Mike said as he parked the car, the scrunch of gravel beneath the tires harsh and sudden.

“People who fight in darkness,” I said. Commandos, secret agents, assassins, and the innocent who had seen the unthinkable. Would Diana know any of them? Perhaps an SOE agent she’d trained with, who had escaped the Continent in body but not in spirit. I caught the eye of a young woman as she walked past the jeep, her nurse’s arm wrapped around her waist. She stared straight through me. “Let’s go,” I said. I had a vision of Diana shuffling along, dead eyes wide open, as a shiver passed through me

We checked in with a nurse at a desk strategically placed opposite the main entrance. An orderly, dressed in white, unlocked the door behind her and pointed up the main staircase. “Third floor, first door on your left.” This being England, that meant a climb up four floors, since the Brits start with the ground floor, and then begin counting.

At the top of the stairs we stopped and huffed and puffed for a second, catching our breath. Muffled voices came from the room to the left. I put my finger to my lips and we moved closer. I saw Big Mike put his hand in his pocket, where he kept his revolver, and I found my hand resting on the butt of my pistol in its shoulder holster, as we each took one side of the door. Leave it to a couple of cops to assume gunfire to come through a door in a quiet hospital in England.

“No.” That was Kaz’s voice, for certain.

“ On potrzebuje tego,” the other voice said.

“ Prosze, pozwalal mnie,” someone else said, in a small, weak voice.

“He’s asking for something,” Big Mike whispered as he put his hand on the doorknob. I took my hand off my revolver and nodded. He opened the door and I went in, stepping to the side to make room for Big Mike. We were both breathing heavily, from the rapid stair climbing and the expectation of something wrong, something that needed cunning and cold steel. What we found was unexpectedly calm.

Tadeusz sat in an armchair, dressed in the same white pajamas and bathrobe as all the other patients. His face looked hollow and paler than the last time I’d seen him, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with tears. Seated next to him was Valerian Radecki, in the midst of a discussion with Kaz, who leaned against the empty bed. The room was well furnished, with drapes pulled back from tall windows on one wall, and framed paintings adorning another. The rug was thick, and only the faintest trace of disinfectant lingered in the air. Otherwise, it could have been a guest room at a country estate. A very well guarded estate.

“What are you doing here?” Kaz said, his eyebrows arching in surprise.

“Looking for both of you,” I said, giving Radecki the once-over, checking for a bulge in his jacket. He didn’t reach for a weapon, didn’t protest his innocence. “A few steps ahead of MI5 and Scotland Yard.”

“Please wait outside,” Radecki said, oblivious to the implications of what I’d said. “We are discussing a matter internal to the Polish government.”

“That’s the point,” Kaz said, ignoring us and jumping back into the argument. “Tadeusz has information that is vital to the Polish government, and to the Polish nation. To our future.”

“But can’t you see that means nothing if he completely falls apart? He needs this simply to keep from going mad,” Radecki said.

“What you say is madness,” Kaz spat back. “Who will believe a drug addict? His word will be useless if the Russians find out. Or the press, for that matter.”

“I am not an addict,” Tadeusz said, but neither Kaz nor Radecki responded. Big Mike gave me a questioning glance, and I returned it with a quick, silent mouthed no. Neither was responding in the way I thought they would, and Radecki certainly wasn’t acting like a guilty killer.

“I am glad you came to visit, both of you, but it would be best if you left us for the moment,” Kaz said. “This is a decision we must make alone.”

“Whether or not to keep Tad drugged up?”

“Please, Lieutenant Boyle,” Radecki said. “It is none of your concern.”

“Really? Is this what you’ve been giving Tad, the same stuff you use?” I picked up a bottle of pills from a side table next to Radecki, where it sat next to a tin of biscuits. The bottle was the same as the one I’d found in his desk. How easy would it be to add poison, or simply overdose Tad?

“It’s the only thing that helps. Please,” Tadeusz said as he reached out a trembling hand. Radecki took the hand in his and patted it.

“Not yet, my friend. Lieutenant Kazimierz must first agree. It is only right.”

“I thought you two didn’t get along,” I said, trying to take in what was playing out here. Radecki wasn’t acting like a guy who’d knifed Eddie this morning and then come here with MI5-inspired murder on his mind. And Kaz damn well had no clue Scotland Yard was looking for him either.

“We didn’t,” Radecki said, giving Tadeusz’s hand a squeeze before letting it go. “But not because I disliked this brave young man. Rather, because I thought it best for him, and the government, if he would make a public declaration of what he saw at Katyn. But I was wrong. I saw how these terrible memories affected him, and I came to understand he had been wounded as terribly as a soldier struck by machine-gun fire. He needed rest, in a safe place, before he could face any scrutiny. So I withdrew, and Lieutenant Kazimierz took over.”

“I’m afraid I had little success,” Kaz said.

“You both helped me,” Tadeusz said, “as much as you could. I’m sorry I haven’t… I cannot…” Tears flowed from his eyes, but his face was calm, with no sign of anguish.

“You started giving him your laudanum,” I said.

“Yes,” said Radecki. “Our plan had been to coax Tadeusz along until he could speak for himself in front of strangers. Major Horak insisted it be done without drugs, so there would be no question of his stability, or willingness to speak the truth.”

“But you thought otherwise.”

“Yes, and I acted alone. Lieutenant Kazimierz didn’t find out until he arrived here, an hour before I did.”

“I’m sorry,” Tadeusz said. “They won’t give me anything here to let me sleep, orders from Major Horak. I can’t close my eyes, because the dreams come again and again. And I can’t leave them open, either. I stare at the wall, and I see all those men, their faces, staring back at me. Why didn’t they kill me with them? I wish I were with them; anything would be better than this.”

“Did you have an overdose,” I said, “after I met you? Kaz told me you didn’t speak at all after that.”

“No, it was nothing like that. Valerian gave me a dose every night, to help me sleep. He did that night, and it worked as usual. I could drift to sleep, and hardly remember anything, or care. But the next day, Major Horak said he wanted me to speak to your General Eisenhower, if it could be arranged. It frightened me, it still does. I found I couldn’t answer him, couldn’t speak to anybody, couldn’t communicate in any way.”