Douglas Jacobson - The Katyn Order

Adam glanced at Piotr, who was smiling at his wife. “Did you serve in the army?”

“Infantry, Fifteenth Division, Krakow Army Group,” Piotr said proudly, though Adam detected a sadness in the big man’s voice.

“And you made it all the way back here after the capitulation?”

“We were surrounded by the Russians near Grodno. We had nothing left at the end, no food, no ammunition.” Piotr folded his arms across his chest. His tone of voice turned cold and hard. “The Russians started rounding us up, herding us into a valley, but they weren’t very good at it. They concentrated mostly on the officers. A lot of us just slipped away into the forests. It took me two months to get back here.”

Piotr stared into his coffee cup as though remembering the battles, perhaps the friends he had lost.

“How many AK are in this area?” Adam asked. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Krystyna shift in her chair.

Piotr hesitated for a moment, glancing at his wife. “There are others,” he said.

Adam waited for more, but Piotr picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee, looking away. “What about the NKVD?” Adam asked. “Have they been in Nowy Targ?”

“They have spies everywhere, the wretched bastards,” Krystyna chimed in bitterly. “As bad as the Germans were, the Russians are worse; they’re nothing but murderous barbarians.”

Adam glanced at her. The fierce glare in her eyes revealed that she, or someone close to her, had suffered at the hands of the Russians. He turned back to Piotr. “Your orders come through Jastremski?”

Piotr didn’t respond.

“Jastremski sent me here, Piotr,” Adam said, trying not to sound impatient. Tytus had warned him the Górale were suspicious of outsiders, but he was going to need their help. “I’m AK. I was in Warsaw during the Rising. I know Stag and Bor. You can trust me.”

Piotr looked at him for what seemed like a long time, his dark eyes searching Adam’s. Finally he said, “Jastremski has been here only once… with the Instructor.”

“The Instructor?”

“Ludwik Banach’s code name, the man you’re looking for.”

Adam smiled. “I’m pleased that you’re so thorough. Banach’s code name is the Provider.”

Krystyna set her knitting back in the basket and stepped over to the table, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “We have to be very careful, Adam. The NKVD are ruthless, and very persistent.”

Piotr leaned forward with his thick hands folded on the table. For an instant Adam imagined what those hands might have done to him if he’d failed to give Banach’s correct code name. “Our leader, Casimir, lives in the village of Prochowa. We’ll go there tomorrow if the paths are dry.”

“And that’s where Banach is?”

“Yes.”

“Have you had any news about him?”

“Not since April, when we herded the sheep up to the high pastures. I looked in on him then, at Casimir’s home.”

“Was he well?”

Piotr hesitated.

“He was very pale and thin,” Krystyna said. “He had a bad cough. But he’s being well taken care of: good food, a warm bed, and the village has a doctor. It’s so much warmer now, maybe he’s feeling better.”

Adam smiled at her, watching as she rubbed her hands along the sides of her swollen belly. He hoped to hell she and Piotr would survive all this. “Yes, maybe he is,” he replied, not allowing himself to think otherwise, not now, when he was so close.

NATALIA WOKE JUST AFTER DAWN and sat by the window in the shabby room thinking about Adam. It was only Tuesday, but she had a sense of apprehension that she couldn’t shake. She should have gone with him, but the risk was too great. The NKVD was out there, and if they got caught together that would be the end of everything. There would be no hope of recovering the Katyn Order.

But now, once again, he was gone.

She suddenly felt as though she were suffocating.

An hour later, Natalia jumped off the tram and walked briskly down Sienna Street, heading for the Rynek Glowny. Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since noon the previous day. She found the same bakery where she had bought a poppy seed roll the other day, but the only items on the display shelf today were two loaves of black bread. She purchased two slices and devoured them on the way to the Rynek Glowny.

She needed to think, to find a quiet place where she would be safe from prying eyes and could consider what to do if Adam didn’t show up by the end of the day. She crossed the square, just coming to life at this early hour, and climbed the stairs of the Mariacki Church.

The first mass of the morning wouldn’t begin for another half hour, but there were already several dozen people seated in the pews. Natalia stood just inside the door for a moment gazing around at the intricately painted blue-and-white walls of the immense nave, arcing gracefully upward to the vaulted ceiling. She walked slowly down the ancient stone aisle, made the sign of the cross and slid into a pew. She knelt for several minutes, glancing up occasionally at the altar which for centuries had been adorned with the majestic altarpiece created by the Nuremburg craftsman, Veit Stoss, one of the finest examples of Gothic art in Europe.

Natalia closed her eyes, recalling the magnificent, wooden altar-piece, and its intricately hand-carved central panel, depicting the graceful figure of the Virgin Mary reclining in peaceful sleep in the arms of the Apostles. She felt a warm glow inside, remembering Adam’s embrace as they lay in her bed just a few days ago. Will I ever feel that again? Suddenly trembling, she opened her eyes and looked at the dark, empty space where the altarpiece had once stood in front of the towering stained glass windows. The Nazis had stolen it, and the altar was now bare and cold, like the soul of Krakow.

She sat back in the pew and, instantly, the hair on the back of her neck bristled as she sensed the presence of someone kneeling in the pew directly behind her. Someone who hadn’t been there a moment ago. She sat perfectly still, holding her breath.

A voice whispered, “Conductor, it’s me.”

Natalia spun around and stared, dumbstruck, at the familiar face.

Rabbit!

Natalia quickly came around the pew and sat next to her teenage friend and comrade-in-arms. “My God, what are you… what happened?”

Rabbit was filthy, his face sagging with exhaustion. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes, then abruptly turned away at the sound of footsteps coming down the aisle.

Three elderly women passed by and sat in a pew two rows farther up.

Natalia glanced at her watch. The mass would be starting in fifteen minutes. They either had to leave now, which might seem odd to anyone who noticed, or sit through the mass, which would be unbearable. She nudged Rabbit with her elbow and whispered, “Let’s go.”

Natalia’s mind was bursting with questions, but they both had the discipline to walk in silence for fear of being overheard by NKVD spies. They crossed the Rynek Glowny, then headed north along Florianska Street, taking some left and right turns into the narrow side streets in case anyone had followed them. Rabbit was emaciated. Natalia knew she had to get him some food and find a place where they could talk.

They passed through St. Florian’s Gate, continued north for a few blocks and arrived at the Rynek Kleparski marketplace, where they slipped into the flow of early morning shoppers who trudged through the narrow aisles between the stalls. Most of the stalls were empty. Those that had something to sell offered little beyond wilted vegetables and day-old bread. Luxuries such as meat, eggs and fresh fruit were available only on the black market. With Rabbit at her side, Natalia pushed through several groups of people clutching ration coupons and haggling with vendors. She managed to purchase a small loaf of black bread, a few thin slices of cheese and three apples. Rabbit ate two of the apples before they got out of the marketplace.