Douglas Jacobson - The Katyn Order

“What did you study?”

“Medicine, of course. When your father’s a doctor, what else would you study? The medical school reserved ten chairs for women, the same number they reserved for Jews and Ukrainians. Very civilized, don’t you think?”

He nodded. And when he smiled at her she felt something pass between them, a magnetism that seemed to draw them closer. For the first time since they’d met, she felt that he really cared about what she was saying.

“I was in Lwow when the first German soldiers arrived. The fall term hadn’t started yet, but all the students were there anyway. We’d seen the airplanes almost every day since the beginning of September and we knew what was about to happen. There was only a small Polish Army garrison to defend the city at the time, so we all signed up and did what we could—set up barricades, dug anti-tank ditches, raced back and forth with messages, food and water.” She paused and shook her head. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

He reached over and took her hand. “Yes, too familiar.”

“Then the Luftwaffe flew in, dropping incendiary bombs. It was hell… fires everywhere. Just like hell. Our soldiers hung on, and we did everything we could to help. But then…”

“The Russians?”

Natalia clenched her jaw. “Yes, the Russians. Everyone was stunned. We had no idea what was happening. At first they sent in an envoy. He said they were here to help us. Of course, it was a lie; the only criminal worse than Hitler is that treacherous son of a bitch Stalin.”

She dropped his hand, and propped her elbows on her knees, rubbing her forehead. Lwow had been so beautiful: the opera and ballet, the churches and palaces, the magnificent Baroque and Renaissance architecture… “The next day the Germans pulled out, the Russians moved in and the NKVD started arresting people.”

Adam placed a hand on her shoulder. When she continued her voice was just above a whisper. “I managed to get out of the city and walked back to our village, taking all the back roads and paths through the forests to avoid the Russian soldiers. But when I got there…”

She swallowed hard and brushed away a tear. Don’t cry, damn it! “When I got there the village was… there was nothing left. The fires were still smoldering, our house was destroyed and they were… my parents, my relatives, everyone… they were just… gone.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, and she wiped them away, cursing under her breath. “I left… got lost, actually… in the forests. Then, several days later, I met some people. They were partisans, forming a resistance movement. We eventually became part of the AK.”

“When did you go to Krakow?” Adam asked.

“About a year later, in the autumn of ’40. The commander of our AK unit arranged for me to get a job on the railway.”

Adam smiled again. “Hence the name, ‘Conductor.’”

Natalia shrugged. “Not very original as code names go.”

“So, I assume you did more than just punch tickets on the train.”

“Eventually, but not right away. I worked strictly as a conductor for almost two years. I hardly heard from the AK. I’d actually started to think they’d forgotten about me.”

“And then…?”

“In the spring of ’42 I heard from a priest, of all things. He gave me a new assignment. Then someone I never met, called ‘the Provider’—”

A thundering explosion rocked the building, and the center support post sagged. An instant later a section of the ceiling collapsed, and the lantern shattered on the floor in a blaze of sparks, buried instantly under the rubble and plunging the cellar into blackness.

Natalia groped in the darkness and found Adam’s hand. They scrambled to their feet, choking on dust and stumbling over piles of plaster and wood, until they found the tunnel exit.

They ran through the tunnel and up the staircase, following the reddish-yellow glow from outside.

The scene beyond the doorway was every bit as hellish as Lwow had been—blazing fires and thick, black smoke, blinding flashes in the sky, and the constant thud of bursting shells. Every building in sight had been reduced to a shattered ruin.

Adam squeezed her hand. “We’ve got to run for it.”

She nodded.

But he didn’t move.

He stared at her for another moment, his eyes reflecting the softness, the growing feeling of togetherness she’d felt in the cellar. Then he leaned over and kissed her.

She slipped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him close as they kissed again. Longer this time, his hand sliding around her waist.

Then he abruptly broke it off.

He took a step back. “We have to go.”

She reached over and brushed his cheek. “Yes, I know.”

He smiled at her, but the look in his eyes that had been there a moment ago was gone.

ADAM GLANCED BACK at Natalia. She motioned for him to keep going as they made their way through the rubble on Piekarska Street, then climbed over a half-demolished stone wall. Twelve other AK commandos were waiting for them on the other side, including Rabbit, who stood at the front of the line, his face flushed and his trousers soaked with muck.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before they blow our fuckin’ heads off!” the boy yelled as soon as he spotted Adam and Natalia. Even from two meters away, Adam could smell the stink of sewage on him.

Through a swirling vortex of shrieking artillery shells, deafening concussions and raging fires, Rabbit led the group into the ancient maze of winding streets bordering Old Town’s main square. Only a few skeletal brick façades remained standing, their dark, blown-out windows looming eerily like the eyes of a death’s-head. The commandos kept their heads down, circling around the ruins of St. John’s Cathedral, its magnificent spires, archways and statuary now pulverized into dust. A few minutes later they rendezvoused with a second group, hunkered down in front of St. Jacek’s Church—incredibly still intact—at the head of Dluga Street.

Rabbit glanced at his watch, then turned to the combined group of commandos, shouting to be heard over the thundering detonations. “Bobcat is at the sewer at the south end of the street, at Place Krasinskich. That’s where the manhole is. In exactly ten minutes he’ll signal with a flashlight, twice. I’ll return the signal by flashing three times. Then you all run like hell! Single file. Just follow me!”

Adam put a hand on Natalia’s shoulder. “You stay right behind Rabbit.”

She grabbed his coat and pulled him toward her. “What about you?”

“I’ll be along later. I have another assignment.”

“I’m coming with you.”

He shook his head. “You can’t. We have orders. You have to go now and I’ll—”

She jerked harder on his coat. “I’m not leaving without you!”

He bent down and kissed her. Then he gripped her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You’re going now. I’ll find you.”

Defiance flashed through her eyes, and she turned away.

Rabbit shouted again at the group. “No matter what happens, keep running, and don’t stop until you’re in the sewer! When we’re down there, follow me; I know the way. Bobcat will bring up the rear.”

The fires and bursting artillery shells lit up the midnight sky, giving Adam amazingly clear glimpses of Dluga Street—from the stout façades of St. Jacek’s at the north end to Place Krasinskich at the south end. From his vantage point on the top floor of Raczynski Palace, he spotted Natalia in her blue coat kneeling next to Rabbit in front of the church.

Adam did not want it to end this way. But he knew it would. There was a part of him that wanted to run back into the street and take her in his arms. But that part was just barely alive, buried under years of murder, rage and the quest for revenge that had driven him since Whitehall sent him back into Poland.