Douglas Jacobson - The Katyn Order

“It’s a part of the new code,” he said, packing the wireless set into a wooden crate. “They set the date one day ahead, an extra precaution in case the message is intercepted.”

“Then he’s coming today?”

“That’s what it says: three o’clock this afternoon. And now, unless you’re going to shoot me, I’ve got to get this stuff out of here.”

Rabbit helped the young man hoist the crate into a wheelbarrow. The man threw a tarp and two tires over it and pushed it out of the garage, giving Natalia a wide berth, muttering under his breath.

“Who’s Pirate?” Rabbit asked after the wireless operator was out of sight.

Natalia had no idea, and she also wondered how they would recognize each other. She shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough. It’s probably best if we stay here until it’s time to meet him.”

Rabbit nodded. “And now you can tell me what the hell is going on.”

NATALIA SPOTTED HIM from across the street. He was tall and thin, wearing a gray pin-striped suit, a fedora and a black patch over his left eye. Some pirate, she thought. At least he didn’t have a parrot on his shoulder. After a moment the “pirate” looked in her direction. With a slight nod of her head, Natalia communicated she was the one he was to meet. Then she turned away and, hunched over with her cane, headed back toward the garage.

She didn’t look back, but Natalia knew he was behind her, following at a safe distance as they crossed the Rynek Kleparski market, busy at this hour with people picking over the half-rotten potatoes and the few loaves of stale bread that remained in the stalls. When she arrived at the garage, Natalia slid the door open and stepped into the dimly lit interior. Rabbit was waiting for her, standing next to the workbench where the wireless unit had been. She pulled the Browning from the waistband of her skirt.

The thin man with the eye patch appeared a few minutes later. At this closer distance Natalia noticed heavy scars across the left side of his face. She raised the pistol and pointed it at him.

The man carefully set his briefcase on the dirt floor, then slowly removed his hat. “I am Captain Andreyev, an associate of Adam Nowak’s and chief aide to the late General Andrei Kovalenko.”

Andreyev. Natalia remembered the name from what Adam had told her. His Polish was very good, with a slight Russian accent, but she was so startled by the rest of what he’d said that she barely registered his fluency. “Did you say, the late General…?”

Andreyev held his hat in both hands and nodded. “The general was killed in an automobile accident.”

A chill crawled up Natalia’s back. “When did it happen?”

“Yesterday.”

Natalia stared at the Russian who stood calmly in the center of the gloomy, dilapidated building. Kovalenko was dead? It couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone must have murdered him. Who… and why? Because of the letter he gave Adam? The letter I have a copy of! She pushed a ladderback chair toward Andreyev and took a stool facing him, still pointing the gun.

There was an awkward silence until Andreyev leaned forward intently and addressed her. “I apologize for being so blunt, but General Kovalenko’s accident has been a shock for all of us. Perhaps I should explain—”

“Yes, perhaps you should,” Natalia cut in abruptly.

“I assume that Adam Nowak told you about General Kovalenko’s relationship with Colonel Whitehall of the SOE, and the general’s sympathetic position toward Poland.”

“We don’t need his Goddamn sympathy.”

“Nevertheless, I was General Kovalenko’s chief aide. I’ve been involved in all of his dealings with Colonel Whitehall on the issue of Poland. It was Colonel Whitehall who asked me to come here.” Andreyev’s eyes moved to Rabbit, then back to Natalia. He seemed to ignore the pistol pointed at his chest. “In the first message you sent to Whitehall, you indicated that you’d found something of importance.”

Natalia didn’t respond.

“May I ask what it was?”

Natalia hesitated, suddenly feeling very exposed. Was this really Andreyev? What if Tarnov had sent someone to impersonate him? But they’d received a coded wireless message from Whitehall, and Andreyev showed up at the right time and place. But even if he is Andreyev… can I trust him?

“Natalia?”

“Don’t rush me, Goddamn it! This is all happening pretty fast.”

“Yes, of course, I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I understand how hard—”

Natalia leaped to her feet, pointing the pistol at Andreyev’s forehead. “My family lived in a village near Lwow, Captain Andreyev! Until September of 1939. Now I don’t know where they are—except somewhere in Russia, if they’re still alive!”

Andreyev didn’t flinch, but beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his face. He looked directly into her eyes. “General Kovalenko’s mother was Polish, Natalia. He is… was… a supporter of Poland’s independence and its quest for freedom. He was—”

“Were you in Warsaw, Captain?” Natalia demanded.

“Yes, I was.”

Rabbit spoke up. “And you watched from the other side of the river while the Nazis destroyed our city?”

Andreyev’s eyes moved toward the boy, but he did not respond.

Natalia gritted her teeth in frustration. Adam was in trouble, probably captured by Tarnov. What the hell was she doing here in an abandoned garage talking to a Russian? “Why are you here, Captain?”

“I’m here to help you. That’s what you asked for.”

“Who killed General Kovalenko?”

“Major Tarnov was responsible for that. He’s the enemy, Natalia.”

Natalia kept the Browning trained on Andreyev’s forehead. Was it really that simple? Tarnov was the enemy and everyone else—Whitehall, Kovalenko, Andreyev—were allies, trying to help the down-trodden Poles? Was it possible that Kovalenko, a Russian general, cared enough about Poland that even after his death his chief aide was willing to defy the NKVD and risk his own life to help in the quest for freedom?

“What was it you found, Natalia?” Andreyev asked.

She glanced at Rabbit.

The boy stood perfectly still and met her eyes. He nodded. Natalia hesitated. “A journal,” she said quietly. “I found Ludwik Banach’s journal.”

Andreyev waited.

She realized there was no other choice. Adam had told her to contact Whitehall and that’s what she had done. Andreyev showed up exactly as the coded reply to her message said he would. She had to trust him. “Banach’s journal made reference to a document, an official order signed by Stalin. It was given to Hans Frank by a visitor from Russia in November of 1942.” She described the contents of the order while Andreyev listened without expression.

“Do you have it?” he asked when she was finished.

“The journal?”

“The order, Natalia.” The Russian captain’s voice took on a hard edge. “Do you have the order?”

“No.”

When Andreyev spoke again his patient tone of voice had returned. “Do you know where it is?”

Natalia lowered the pistol but kept her eyes locked on him. She had to trust him… but he was still a Russian. “No, I don’t,” she said. “And neither does Adam. That’s why he was searching for Banach.”

Rabbit spoke up again. “Are you here to help us find Adam, or to get your hands on the copy of Stalin’s order?”

A flash of irritation crossed Andreyev’s face. “I’m here to do both. But, I’ll be honest: Finding the order, and making it public, was vitally important to General Kovalenko. It’s vitally important to Colonel Whitehall, and it should be to you. It could make a difference in what gets decided about Poland at the Potsdam conference. The fate of your own country—”