Douglas Jacobson - The Katyn Order

Casimir held up a hand, and the band of hunters stopped, melting silently into the trees. He caught the acrid odor of charred wood on the breeze and instantly knew what had happened. He made eye contact with Mikolai, his second-in-command. It was all that was necessary, and Mikolai disappeared, continuing on down the mountain in silent reconnaissance.

In less than a half hour Mikolai returned from the other direction, knelt next to Casimir and whispered, “Piotr’s house is destroyed. The other two are intact.”

Casimir held his breath as Mikolai gave him the rest of the report. Piotr’s neighbors had been shot, their bodies still lying in the grassy area between the cabins. Both of their wives were dead, one badly burned and shot through the head, the other one raped and stabbed. Mikolai had found her body inside one of the cabins. Piotr, Krystyna and Zygmunt were missing. “I also counted the bodies of eight NKVD riflemen, most of them shot in the head,” he said.

Casimir closed his eyes and breathed slowly, visualizing what must have happened. Then he looked at Mikolai. “The American?”

“Since he was on horseback, he must’ve arrived first and seen the fire. He probably shot the riflemen.”

“Then he must be with Piotr and the others,” Casimir said. “They’re being held somewhere until this NKVD agent, Tarnov, gets what he’s after.”

Mikolai’s eyes narrowed. “The chapel.”

The blond man’s name was Karol, and he and his militia comrade, Jacek, agreed to guide Natalia, Andreyev and Rabbit up the mountain, as far as the chapel. “The chapel’s been there as long as anyone can remember,” Karol said as they bumped along the gravel road, all jammed into the GAZ-11. “It’s used as a safe house, a way to send signals to the AK contact among the Górale.”

“You’re AK?” Natalia asked.

“No. Tytus is the only one left. Russians took care of the rest.” He shot a quick glance at Andreyev. The Russian captain sat in the front passenger seat with his eye on Jacek, who was driving. Andreyev ignored the comment. “But I know where the chapel is,” Karol went on, “and Tytus told me what the signal was some time ago. Just in case. We can only drive partway. Then we have to walk.”

It was after dark when they arrived at a point where the gravel road turned to the left and headed back down the mountain. Jacek pulled the GAZ to the side of the road and shut off the engine.

Karol took the lead, and the group set off up the mountain, following a narrow pathway that dropped off sharply into a ditch. Rabbit followed behind Karol with a bounce in his step, clearly enjoying the adventure. Jacek was third, then Natalia. Andreyev brought up the rear.

The path wound through thick stands of conifers. Though it was dark, the moon was rising, and Natalia could make out Jacek’s shadow in front of her. The underbrush tickled her fingers, and it was deathly quiet save for the muted thump of their footsteps on the dirt path.

They had trudged along for about ten minutes when Natalia heard an owl hoot off to her right. A moment later there was a second hoot, from her left.

A sudden flash of movement.

Jacek’s shadow disappeared.

Natalia stopped, but before she could turn her head, a hand clamped tightly across her mouth. Another hand grabbed her elbow, and in an instant she was on the ground being dragged off the path and through the underbrush. She struggled, kicking her legs, but it did no good. Her assailant was too strong.

Then he stopped. Terrified and barely able to breathe, Natalia looked up. The moonlight was brighter, and she could tell they were in a clearing. A shadowy figure crouched in front of her. It was a man with long hair flowing from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. He held something in his hand that looked like a long pole with an axe head on the end. Natalia remembered reading about the strange weapons in school. She was amazed they still used them. Slowly the man lowered his hand from her mouth but maintained his grip on her elbow. He raised his forefinger to his lips.

A moment later the underbrush rustled, and another man with long hair and a wide-brimmed hat suddenly appeared, dragging Rabbit. The boy kicked furiously and shook his head back and forth. The man stopped and put a knee on the boy’s chest. Still struggling, Rabbit turned his head and caught Natalia’s eye. Even in the moonlight she could see the fury in his eyes.

The man gripping Natalia’s arm leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Tell the boy to settle down.” He spoke Polish, but his accent was strange.

She turned to Rabbit and whispered. “It’s OK. Just… do as they say.”

Rabbit glared at her defiantly. But a moment later he gave in.

Another man stepped into the clearing and knelt down in front of Natalia. This one also carried a ciupaga, but he was older, with leathery skin and white hair. “If I let you sit up, you must promise not to make a sound,” he said.

Natalia nodded.

The older man motioned to Natalia’s assailant who released her elbow. Natalia sat up.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” The older man asked.

“Who are you?” Natalia shot back. “Where’s the rest of our group?”

For an instant he looked amused, but his expression changed quickly, becoming serious. His eyes were dark, black pits. “My name is Casimir. And the rest of your group is unharmed… for the moment. Now answer my question.”

These were obviously Górale, and Natalia felt a glimmer of hope. “I’m looking for Wolf,” she said.

He frowned.

Goddamn it, is he using his real name? “Adam Nowak,” she said quickly. “I’m Adam’s friend, Natalia. He came up here last week, searching for his uncle, Ludwik Banach. Have you seen him?”

Casimir studied her, his expression now curious. “And you and your friends just barged in here, stumbling in the dark, hoping to find him?”

Natalia felt her face flush, and she struggled to control her impatience. I’m so close, so damned close! “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re doing. Now, please tell me. Have you seen him?”

Casimir stood, held out his hand and helped her to her feet. The Górale hunter holding onto Rabbit did the same. “I’ve met your friend, Adam Nowak,” Casimir said. “He was ambushed by the NKVD yesterday. We believe your friend and a few of our people are locked in the chapel—which at the moment is heavily guarded by riflemen.”

He paused at a rustling in the underbrush. A moment later Karol, Jacek and a very disgusted looking Andreyev were pushed into the clearing by three Górale hunters carrying shotguns.

One of the hunters shoved Andreyev a step forward. “This one’s Russian,” he said to Casimir. “The other two are friends of Tytus.”

Casimir stepped up to Andreyev. “Are you NKVD?”

“No,” Andreyev replied curtly.

“Who sent you here?”

“He’s a friend,” Natalia said. “He’s helping us.”

Casimir kept his eyes on Andreyev. “We found Tytus’ body in the forest on the other side of the chapel.”

“We had nothing to do with that,” Andreyev said.

Casimir abruptly took a step backward and thumped his ciupaga on the ground. Instantly, two Górale hunters charged from the trees and knocked Andreyev to the ground. One of them produced a rope and grabbed Andreyev’s wrist, but the Russian lashed out with his other hand, smashing his fist into the hunter’s face. Andreyev tried to stand, but a Górale with a shotgun stomped hard on his chest and shoved the double-barreled weapon into his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” Natalia shouted at Casimir. “I said he was a friend!”

Casimir ignored her, and within seconds Andreyev was subdued, his wrists bound behind him. The Górale hunters forced Karol and Jacek to the ground, tied their hands behind them, then bound all three men’s feet together.