Antanas Sileika - Underground

“You’re always welcome here,” said Lukas, his heart sinking a little.

Monika came back in and the sisters kissed, and then they all went into the kitchen to eat. Anne tried yet again to convince Monika to give up her studies in nursing in favour of medicine, but Monika declined. Nursing was faster. She wanted to get on with her life.

After they had eaten, to Lukas’s embarrassment, Monika told Anne to go for a walk for half an hour, which Anne agreed to do if they spotted her the money for a cup of coffee in a café. The sisters were practical and unashamed about their sexual needs, while Lukas still felt a little like the overmodest country boy.

He was washing dishes when Anne came back, and the sisters set up on opposite sides of the table to do their work. They were a serious pair, barely talking to one another. Lukas left the wet dishes to air-dry on the counter and took a book to the living room. The evening passed quietly, and when it grew late he and Monika walked Anne back to her mother’s apartment. The evening was getting cool as they returned. Lukas asked Monika if she would like to go for a drink before going to bed, but she was tired and they didn’t really have the money to drink in cafés. She encouraged him to go ahead. He walked her back to their place and then returned to the rue St-Antoine for a drink.

He went into a workers’ café just off the main street. It was full of men in blue smocks, some of whom worked odd hours for the city and some of whom had been drinking here since they finished work a few hours ago. Their wives would not be too happy to see them when they finally came in. The place was thick with smoke and talk in various languages; many of the workers were Polish or Italian. Lukas ordered a glass of beer and a shot of Calvados, the cheapest of the liquors, and then drank both down quickly and ordered another beer. It was only after he felt the welcome rush of relaxation that he turned around with his back to the bar in order to look across the tables and onto the street beyond the windows.

Zoly was sitting at a table by the window with a glass of wine in front of him, his arms crossed as he watched Lukas. Zoly was in a suit and tie, and his hat was on a chair beside him. He was smoking a cigarette—ever the man of the world, even here, in a working-class bar.

HE FELT oddly vindicated by the sight of Zoly. Lukas’s unease, the prickly sensation at the back of his neck, had been warranted. He finished his glass of beer because the waiter would not permit him to take it to a table, where he would be expected to order again at a higher price. He then walked across the short distance and pulled out the chair across from Zoly and sat down.

“Surprised?” Zoly asked.

“I’ve smelt you around for the last little while, like a piece of dog turd deep within the treads of my boots.”

“Your rough language is true to your country roots, I see,” said Zoly. He called over the waiter and ordered another Calvados and beer for Lukas. He butted one cigarette, took another from the pack, but seemed in no hurry to light it, first studying the street outside.

Lukas could feel the alcohol as he had intended to, to help bring on sleep. He enjoyed the slight intoxication and would have liked to drink the Calvados in front of him, but he didn’t touch it, and when Zoly finally did light his next cigarette and proposed a toast, Lukas just sipped at his beer.

“Let’s catch up,” said Zoly. “I’m a little insulted that you didn’t invite me to your wedding.”

“It wasn’t much of a party—just family and a few close friends.”

“Belated congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“And how is the life of the bourgeois gentilhomme agreeing with you?”

“The married part of my life is quite wonderful, but I’m underemployed. I’m finishing off a book about the partisans for the government-in-exile, but there isn’t much money in that. It’s not easy to find work in France.”

“I imagine not, but you always seemed a little above making a living, if I might say so. You brushed us off, and the French as well, I understand, as if you didn’t need to earn your way through life. You must have been saving yourself for your wife.”

“For the Americans, actually.”

“But they never came to call.”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” There wasn’t much point in being evasive, but Lukas did it out of pride. If Zoly knew he had been with the French and left them, he knew just as well that Lukas was not working for the Americans.

Zoly smiled ruefully. “You’re bored to tears, Lukas. This isn’t the life for you.”

It was a kind of insult, but a relief as well. Lukas took the shot of Calvados in his hand and finished it. He regretted his weakness when he looked up and saw Zoly’s faint smile. “You’ve travelled to Paris to tell me how I should live?”

“Coming into this place for nightcaps every evening? You may not be an alcoholic yet, but you will be soon enough at this rate. You can’t even afford these drinks. You’d be better off drinking at home alone after Monika goes to sleep.”

Her name on his lips sounded a little dirty. “Have you come to make me an offer?”

“I have.”

“What is it?”

“Let’s go for a walk. I’m uncomfortable talking in this place.”

“What for? You made a spectacle of yourself in the window. If anyone was looking for you, they could have seen you easily enough.”

“Yes. I wanted the French to see me if they were watching, but I’m not so eager for them to hear me. The Americans either, if they’re bothering, which I doubt. Maybe even the Soviets are here. This whole crowd could be made up of spies, for all we know. You can finish your beer before we go out, if you like.”

Lukas stood up to go without touching his glass, but he regretted the beer he was leaving behind and then was embarrassed by the regret. They walked out. It was a cool night but the streets were somewhat full. They walked in the direction of the Bastille.

“Do you have any news?” Lukas asked.

“Odds and ends. More important, we finally have some interested parties. The Russian bomb and the Chinese Communists have excited the Americans to look for traitors among themselves. There are plenty enough of those, but they’ll never find them all. The British are better off because of their class system. The upper classes are all playing for the same team and they’ll never betray it. We have a very good relationship with the Americans, actually. We do many things together.”

“What about the partisans in Lithuania? Is there a central command structure now? Have the British provided arms and radio contact?”

“You want to know an awful lot for a man who’s no longer in the game. I can say some things are very bad, but there’s always hope they’ll get better.”

Lukas was exasperated. “All right, then, you don’t have to tell me anything except for this. Why are you wasting my time? If you want something, tell me what it is.”

“We were just wondering if you’d like to make a return visit for us.”

“To Lithuania?”

“Obviously.”

“What for?”

“There are a couple of pieces of equipment that have broken down. We need someone to bring in replacements.”

“The last time around you wanted me to assist Lozorius. Now you just want a courier.”

“More than a courier. Someone we can trust.”

“There must be others besides me who could do this.”

“There are. We have young volunteers, but no one who is known inside Lithuania. Besides, there’s another reason.”

“What’s that?”

“Lozorius asked for you by name.”

“He’s still in Lithuania?”