The Katyn Order (39 page)

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.

There was a smaller neighborhood church around the corner. The early morning mass had just finished. Natalia and Rabbit waited while the parishioners filed out, then slipped into the empty sanctuary. The odor of incense still hung in the air, and sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows as two nuns collected booklets from the pews, then exited through a side door.

They sat for a while eating the bread and cheese until Rabbit slumped back in the pew, wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve.

“What happened?” Natalia finally asked.

The food seemed to revive him a bit, but there was a look of fear in his eyes that she had never seen before, not even during the most gruesome battles in Warsaw. “NKVD,” he said, glancing around. “They broke into the safe house in Lodz. It was a week ago . . . I think . . . just before dawn. I was asleep in the attic. But I woke up when I heard car doors slamming.” His eyes darted around the empty sanctuary. He moved closer, lowering his voice. “They knew
everything.”

“Everything? What do you mean?”

“The two NKVD men you shot. They knew all about it. A Polish policeman was with them, and they were looking for a woman and a teen-age boy.”

Icy fingers played on the back of Natalia's neck, and she half expected a cadre of NKVD agents to burst into the church with machine guns. “What happened then?”

“They shot someone—the owner of the house, I think. They had Hammer and Zeeka. I climbed out on the roof and got the hell outta there.” Rabbit took a deep breath and wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve again. “I didn't know where else to go, so I came here . . . to find you. You told me about the big church on the market square. I've been goin' there for the last three days. One old nun was startin' to look at me kind of funny, like I was trying to steal somethin'.”

Natalia put her hand on Rabbit's shoulder as she tried to absorb the devastating news. Zeeka, Hammer, and how many others, were probably being tortured and murdered because of what she'd done. The NKVD would get the information from them, she was certain of that. One way or the other they'd find out that she had gone to Krakow.
And that was a week ago!

“You did the right thing,” she said, squeezing Rabbit's bony shoulder. “I am
very
glad to see you.”

He bit off another chunk of bread. “Now what?”

Natalia thought about it. Since the NKVD was looking for a woman traveling with a teen-age boy, they'd have to split up. And she had to find somewhere for Rabbit to stay. Meanwhile, it was already Tuesday, and Adam hadn't returned. They were going to need help, and there was only one place in Krakow where she had a contact. But she'd been told never to return.

Later that morning, Rabbit walked along the boulevard overlooking the Vistula River, following the directions Natalia had given him to the Kazimierz District. He felt better now than he had for a week. The food and a chance to clean up in the washroom they discovered in the church's lower level had revitalized him, as did the clean shirt that Natalia had managed to buy at one of the stalls in the marketplace. It wasn't new, but it fit and it didn't stink like the one he'd been wearing for as long as he could remember. Natalia had returned to the church's lower level from the marketplace, wearing a gray scarf over her head and carrying a cane and a black felt hat. In her pocket were scissors that she used to cut his long, blond hair. Then she had handed him the hat. He hated hats but wore it anyway, wondering how much good it would do if the NKVD traced him to Krakow.

Rabbit slowed his pace as he entered a narrow walled street leading to the Church of Archangel Michael and Saint Stanislaus. He suddenly felt very conspicuous, certain that he'd hear heavy footsteps behind him at any moment.

Two women stood talking at the entrance of the church courtyard. As Rabbit approached them, he noticed a man on the other side of the street, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.
Is he watching the church?

At that moment the two women turned and walked across the courtyard toward the church. Rabbit made an instant decision and followed them. He kept a few paces behind as they climbed the steps. At the top landing an elderly caretaker stood with his back to the door, pulling bits of weed from a stone planter. Rabbit hesitated, but one of the women ahead of him held the door open. So he entered the church.

Rabbit let the two women go first, then knelt in the pew and pulled out the rosary Natalia had given him, resisting the urge to glance back at the door. He waited, absently moving his fingers over the beads and trying to ignore the tingling on the back of his neck.

Finally it was his turn. He stepped over to the confessional, knelt at the screen and whispered the greeting Natalia had instructed him to use. “In the name of the Lord I come seeking.”

Silence.

Rabbit whispered, “The Conductor sent me.”

There was another moment of silence, followed by a rustle of robes, and the priest cleared his throat. “What do you seek?” he said.

Rabbit replied, “Jastremski.”

More silence, longer this time. Finally the priest said, “We cannot take any more time here. Three o'clock this afternoon, at the Cloth Hall.”

Rabbit exited the church, and hurried down the steps, across the courtyard and through the gate. The man leaning against the wall was still there. Rabbit continued down the narrow street, looking straight ahead. He turned right at the corner, then left at the next street. After five minutes he stopped and knelt down to tie his shoelace. The man was nowhere in sight.

Breathing a bit easier, he walked back along the Vistula, then followed a pathway near the castle that led down to the riverbank. Natalia sat on a bench facing the river.

Rabbit sat down next to her and said, “When I asked about Jastremski, the priest didn't answer.”

“Didn't answer? Did he say
anything?”

“He told me to be at the Cloth Hall at three o'clock this afternoon.”

Natalia closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. Then she looked at her watch. “While we have some time, there are some things you need to know.”

At half-past two, Natalia sat at a wrought-iron outdoor table at one of the cafés lining the perimeter of the Rynek Glowny. Most of the cafés were empty, so it was easy to select one that provided a clear view of the massive Cloth Hall on the other side of the vast cobblestone square. Rabbit was two tables away, reading a book about General Pilsudski and the Polish Legions that Natalia had purchased.

Idly stirring a cup of bitter coffee, Natalia thought about the situation. Had something happened to Jastremski? Or had someone gotten to the priest? Was this meeting a setup? She picked up the cup, but her hand trembled and she set it back on the saucer.
Calm down and think.

As she glanced at her watch, a shadow darkened the table.

She froze.

Slowly, Natalia turned her head and looked up at a man standing over her.

It was the caretaker from the church.

“I'm sorry if I startled you,” the elderly man said. “May I join you?”

“Yes, of . . .” She stopped to catch her breath. “Yes, of course. I was expecting the—”

The caretaker shook his head, warning her not to say any more as he slid into the chair opposite. He wore a gray suit with a white shirt and solid blue tie. The suit was clean and neatly pressed but frayed at the ends of the sleeves. He removed his fedora and set it on the table. It was a warm afternoon, uncomfortably humid as though it might rain at any moment, and the elderly man's high forehead glistened with a film of perspiration as he ran a hand over his thin white hair. “You may call me Leopold,” he said quietly. “I saw you sit down and thought I'd save some time.” His face was tanned and creased from years of outside work, but his ice-blue eyes revealed the intensity of someone who did a lot more than rake gardens. “And you can tell the boy to join us.”

A waiter appeared. Leopold ordered coffee, and the three of them waited in silence until it was delivered. There were only a couple of other people at the café, several tables away, engrossed in their own conversation.

“Jastremski has disappeared,” Leopold said abruptly. “So has his wife.”

Natalia felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. “NKVD?” she whispered.

The caretaker nodded and sipped his coffee.

Natalia slumped back in her chair. It had to be Tarnov. She suddenly felt very warm, and sweat trickled down the back of her neck. If Tarnov had gotten to Jastremski, they were sure to find out about Adam.
And they'll know where he went!

Leopold leaned over the table. “What do you need?”

Natalia drummed her fingers on the table as a dozen thoughts swirled around in her mind. She had to decide exactly what to do, and in what order. She said to Leopold. “It's best if Rabbit and I aren't seen together. Do you have somewhere he can stay for a few days?”

Leopold studied Rabbit, sizing him up. “I have quarters at the church. There's plenty of room. Do you cook?”

Rabbit smiled. “No, but I eat.”

“Can you scrape and paint windows?”

“I can if you feed me.”

Leopold patted the boy's shoulder. “You paint and I'll feed you. It won't be fancy, but you won't go hungry.” He turned back to Natalia. “Anything else?”

Natalia hesitated for a moment, trying to decide how much to say. The more she told this man, the more jeopardy they'd all be in if he were questioned. But if Adam wasn't in trouble already, he would be very soon. She was going to need help. Natalia removed General Kovalenko's letter from the breast pocket of her vest and slid it across the table. It was written in Russian, but she told Leopold what it said.

Leopold slid it back to her, his eyes darting around. Pigeons fluttered about on the cobblestone square among the pedestrians, clopping horses and creaking vendor carts.

“You met a man in the courtyard of the church last week,” Natalia said. “You gave him a message to board the tram to Podgorze.”

Leopold nodded.

“That man is a friend, and he's on a mission.” She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I'm concerned that he may have been . . . detained. I'm not certain, but I may need help.”

“What type of help?” Leopold asked.

“Right now, some advice,” she said, tapping Kovalenko's letter on the table before slipping it back into her pocket. “What do I do with this letter, just waltz into a police station and tell them to ring up General Kovalenko in Berlin?”

“As crazy as it seems, that may be an option. A letter like that, signed by a general of the Red Army, should get their attention. On the other hand, the NKVD have planted spies among the police. Do you trust this General Kovalenko?”

Natalia couldn't believe she was even thinking about this.
Trust General Kovalenko? Am I mad?
“Could we send a message to London—to a certain person at SOE?” From what Adam had said about him, Natalia wasn't sure she trusted Whitehall either. But she didn't have any other options, and at least he wasn't Russian.

Leopold appeared thoughtful. “Yes, we could,” he said after a moment. “The location of the wireless was compromised recently. It's been moved, and it will take a day for me to arrange it.”