In the moonlight, Natalia could see that the chapel was heavily guarded. She and Rabbit followed closely behind Casimir, who led the way as the silent Górale hunters proceeded in a wide circle through the forest, gradually surrounding the sturdy, stone building. Six NKVD riflemen with carbines slung over their shoulders stood near a fire about ten meters from the front of the chapel. They smoked cigarettes and joked while meat roasted on a spit over the flames.
Casimir stopped and gestured to one of the hunters, who carried a shotgun and appeared to be the second-in-command. Without a sound, he and five others broke away and slipped deeper into the forest, heading toward the front of the chapel. Two of the five also carried shotguns.
Casimir motioned for Natalia and Rabbit to follow and continued on through the trees toward the rear of the building. A young Górale hunter wearing a black scarf around his neck, trailed closely behind. Casimir led them past the chapel and up an incline into a thick stand of conifers. The ground was spongy with fallen needles. The night air smelled of pine.
Casimir stopped and dropped to one knee, motioning for Natalia and Rabbit to come closer. “You will remain here until we take the building,” he whispered. He gestured toward the young hunter with the black scarf. “Tajik will come for you. If you ever want to see Adam Nowak alive, do not make a sound.”
With Rabbit at her side, Natalia knelt on the soft ground watching Casimir and Tajik slip silently into the forest, armed only with their ciupagas. Rabbit took her hand. “These guys know what they’re doing,” the boy whispered. “I wish I could see them whack the fuckin’ Russians with those axes.”
Natalia wished she felt that confident. It was obvious the Górale were fierce and stealthy hunters. But they were up against heavily armed NKVD troopers. Adam’s life depends on mountain men with spears?
Pine needles pricked her back, and she adjusted her position, peering into the moonlit forest. She could just barely make out the rear of the chapel—a black, square silhouette against the flickering yellow light of the fire. She watched, and listened.
A shadow slipped through the trees.
Another shadow.
Natalia squeezed Rabbit’s hand, listening, straining to hear, every nerve in her body tingling.
Tree limbs creaked in the breeze.
Then a grunt and a muted thud.
Rabbit nudged her elbow and pointed toward the chapel. A flash of movement, a sweeping arc through the firelight.
Another grunt, and a thud.
Quiet.
Then an owl hooted.
A second owl answered.
Without warning, a deafening shotgun blast echoed through the forest.
A second blast, followed by a concussion of rapid gunfire, hammered Natalia’s eardrums.
Then it was quiet.
Natalia knelt on both knees, riveted to the spot, barely able to breathe.
A shadow, very close.
It was Tajik, at the base of the hill, motioning for them to follow.
Fifty-Eight
22 JUNE
THE NKVD’S MAIN INTERROGATION ROOM was buried deep in the Dragon’s Den, a cave below Wawel Castle, which Medieval legend held was once inhabited by a man-eating monster. It was sufficiently isolated so that none of the clerks and administrative officials who worked in the castle would be bothered by screams and crunching bones.
Early Friday morning Lieutenant Resnikov stood outside the interrogation room, waiting for the thugs inside to finish their work and haul what was left of the priest back to his cell. The young lieutenant was annoyed. When they’d broken the priest’s nose, blood had spurted everywhere, and his freshly pressed uniform shirt was ruined. The priest had been tougher than he thought, and breaking him down had taken a while, but Resnikov finally got what he needed. He stuck his head inside the interrogation room, grimacing from the stench of blood and body odor, and gave a few last instructions to keep the priest alive. Then he walked away, cursing to himself about the shirt.
When Resnikov reached Tarnov’s office, he was not surprised to see that the door was open and the lights on at this early hour. He was about to enter when he heard the telephone receiver bang down and Tarnov bellow, “Goddamn idiots!”
Lieutenant Resnikov backed away, but Tarnov suddenly appeared in the doorway, face flushed, eyes blazing. “You! Get in here! Bystrýey!”
Resnikov cautiously stepped into the office.
Tarnov slammed the door behind him and barked, “Adam Nowak escaped!”
Resnikov’s stomach twisted in a knot. “Góspadi! How could that happen?”
“The fucking incompetent riflemen you assigned to guard Nowak and his friends were attacked. Malinovsky went up there early this morning, found them all dead. All twelve! Most of them were killed with fucking axes and spears—” Tarnov stopped and waved his hand dismissively. “The details don’t matter. We’ve got to find that son of a bitch, understand?”
The young lieutenant nodded quickly.
“Now, tell me what you got from the priest.”
Resnikov took a deep breath, trying to ignore the beads of sweat trickling down the side of his face. “Tough old bastard. Held out for a long time. But he finally admitted that Ludwik Banach was smuggling Nazi documents from a secret storage room located in the Copernicus Memorial Library. It confirms what we got from Jastremski. Banach gave the documents to Jastremski, who passed them to the priest.”
“Did he say what kind of documents?”
“He said they were from Hans Frank’s secret files but claims he never read them, just passed them along.”
“Passed them to whom?”
“A woman. He claims he only met her a few times. He described her as young, plain-looking, with brown hair. He referred to her as the Conductor.”
Tarnov scoffed. “It’s a fucking code name, completely useless. Does he know where she is?”
Resnikov smiled. His thugs had to practically kill the priest, and they made a hell of a mess, but it was worth it. “He gave me an address,” he said proudly.
“An address? Good work! Where is it?”
“In the eastern section of the Kazimierz District.”
“Get my car.”
Adam woke with a start when he felt a hand brush across his cheek. Natalia smiled at him, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. He looked around, but the room was a blur without his glasses. “Where are we?”
She smiled again. “You were really sound asleep. We’re in Nowy Targ, in an upstairs bedroom in Karol’s house.”
“Karol?”
“A friend of Tytus. He’s with the local militia.”
Adam thought for a moment. It started to come back: the gunfire outside the chapel, Casimir bursting through the door, Górale hunters . . . then Natalia. There were others. This Karol must have been one of them. “What about Piotr and Krystyna?” he asked.
The smile disappeared from Natalia’s face. “Piotr died on the way down here. You were unconscious in the backseat of the car. Krystyna’s holding her own. She’s in the hospital. Karol snuck her in late last night under a different name.”
Adam’s eyes clouded. “Her baby?”
“The doctor says the baby should be fine, as long as Krystyna can fight the infection. They’re doing what they can.”
Adam wiped his eyes, then sat up slowly, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through his ribs. He wondered how many were broken. Natalia handed him his glasses, and he spotted a familiar face on the other side of the tiny, wallpapered room. “Rabbit?”
The boy beamed. “It’s me, Captain Wolf.”
Adam turned to Natalia. “I don’t understand . . . how . . .?”
“Don’t you remember? He was there last night, at the chapel. So was Andreyev.”
“Andreyev?” The room began to spin. Christ, what’s wrong with me?
“You should lie down again,” Natalia said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You were in pretty tough shape when we found you last night.”
�
�No, just give me a minute. What time is it?”
“Six o’clock. And that would be in the morning. Friday morning.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get smart. So, Andreyev is here, in Nowy Targ?”
“Yes, we’ll get to that in a minute. First, tell me about your uncle.”
Adam rubbed the left side of his face. It seemed like his visit to Prochowa had happened a long time ago. “He died . . . two weeks before I got to the village . . .”
When he finished the story, Natalia took his hand, squeezing it gently as their eyes met. After a moment she said, “There’s something we have to tell you.”
“What is it? You look like—”
“General Kovalenko is dead.”
Adam flinched and another jolt of pain shot through his ribcage. “What the hell . . . what happened?”
“Andreyev says Tarnov arranged for Kovalenko’s death in an auto accident.”
“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe—”
“You can’t believe that Russians would murder their own generals? They’ve been doing it for—” Natalia stopped and bit her lower lip.
“I can’t believe this happened now, that Tarnov could act that fast.” Adam stood up. The dizziness had subsided. He stepped over to a bureau on the opposite wall and looked in the mirror. There was a black-and-blue lump on his forehead, and the left side of his face was red and swollen.
“Tarnov certainly did a number on you,” Natalia said. “I’m surprised you’re able to stand up.”
“Casimir said you took out eight riflemen,” Rabbit said, grinning.
Adam smiled at the boy. “Thanks for looking after Natalia.”
“Yeah sure, we make a good team.”
Adam’s head pounded and he felt like hell, but his injuries were nothing compared to what Tarnov had done to Piotr and Krystyna. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to get that fucker. “I want to talk to Andreyev,” he said to Natalia.
“Rabbit will get him.” She glanced at the boy, and he hurried from the room.
“What have you told Andreyev?”
“Everything. I’m still not sure we can trust him, but we had no other choice.”
“You did the right thing. If we want to get out of here alive, we’ll need his help.”
• • •
It wasn’t long before Rabbit returned with Andreyev. Adam leaned against the bureau. He was afraid if he let go he might fall down. He held out his hand. “Good to see you again, Captain.”
Andreyev shook his hand, peering into his face. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks for the compliment. Natalia told me about General Kova-lenko. Tarnov could make that happen?”
“Tarnov’s operating on his own. But he’s got friends, dangerous friends. He can get to anyone.”
“To you?”
Andreyev shrugged. “He could. But I don’t think he’d try. Not right now, anyway. Given what’s at stake for him, Tarnov probably felt he had to take the chance and get Kovalenko out of the way. If the general had seen Natalia’s message he would’ve raised hell. I can’t do that. No one would pay any attention.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have the Katyn Order?”
Adam shook his head.
“But you know where it is.”
“It’s in the Copernicus Memorial Library.”
Andreyev blinked. “Stalin’s order about Katyn is in a library?”
“I’m certain of it.”
Andreyev looked around at all three of them. “When does the library open?”
Natalia answered, “Ten o’clock.” She took Adam’s hand and stood back to study his torn, bloodstained shirt and filthy trousers. “We can’t do much about your face, but Karol will give you some clean clothes, after you’ve had a bath. Then I’ll bandage those ribs.”
Tarnov was livid. He paced his office. It was 9:30 in the morning, and more than three hours had passed since the futile raid on the shabby room in Kazimierz, but he was still beside himself. We missed her! She was there! I know it. . . I can feel it! He picked up the phone and screamed at the operator: “Get Lieutenant Resnikov in here!”
When Resnikov stepped into his office, Tarnov jabbed his finger into the young officer’s chest. “Can you get any more from that fucking priest? Would he know where the woman went?”
The lieutenant shook his head. “We could try, but I doubt we’d get anything. He’s almost dead. I gave them instructions to keep him alive, but it’s been several hours.” The young lieutenant shifted his weight from one foot to another as silence hung in the room.
Tarnov took a deep breath to settle down. He sat at his desk and stared out the window, then abruptly swiveled around and snatched up a pencil as something occurred to him. “You said Banach was smuggling documents out of the Copernicus Library.”
Resnikov nodded.
Tarnov tapped the pencil on the desk. “Everything seems to focus on that library. Hans Frank stored secret files there. Banach and Jastremski worked there and smuggled out the files. Nowak went there to make contact with Jastremski.” The pencil snapped in half, and Tarnov tossed it at the wastebasket, missing. He stood abruptly, hands on his hips and glared at Resnikov. “So what the hell does it all mean?”
The lieutenant cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m not—”
“What do we know for certain?”
“For certain? I don’t think—”
Tarnov ignored him. “What we know is that Banach left Krakow abruptly last January and traveled up to the Tatra Mountains. Then Adam Nowak came along and followed him up there. But, when we caught up to Nowak, he was headed back here. And he didn’t have the document . . .” Tarnov’s voice trailed off.
“Document, sir? What document are you—?”
“Nichivó! It doesn’t matter! Don’t worry about the fucking document. It’s Nowak we’re after. He was on his way back here, to Krakow. Why, lieutenant? Where do you suppose he was going?”
“The library?”
“Exactly! The Copernicus Memorial Library.”
Fifty-Nine
23 JUNE
10:00 AM
ADAM STILL FELT UNCOMFORTABLE sitting next to Captain Andreyev in the front seat of the GAZ-11. He knew that he had no choice. He had to trust Andreyev, but the shock of General Kovalenko’s murder still bothered him.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Andreyev asked. “Even with clean clothes, you still look terrible.”
“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t run into Tarnov again.” That’s a lie. I want that bastard!
“I guess that depends on whether or not Tarnov makes a connection between you and the library,” Andreyev said. “He got to your friend Jastremski, and the priest. He’ll probably figure it out before long.”
Adam’s ribs felt better now that they were bandaged, but he still winced as the black motorcar bumped over a pothole. “It didn’t take Tarnov very long to get to General Kovalenko, did it?” he replied, but regretted the comment when he saw the flash of pain on Andreyev’s face. Perhaps this Russian could be trusted after all.
Andreyev turned onto Avenue Mickiewicza and drove past the imposing structure of the Copernicus Memorial Library. At the end of the block he turned left, circled around the building and pulled into a narrow, cobblestone lane behind the library.
Adam breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a truck with the insignia of a janitorial company parked in front of the open dock door. He’d remembered correctly Jastremski’s comment about the dock door only being used on Friday mornings. He turned to Andreyev. “You know what to do?”
The Russian nodded. “I’ll be on Avenue Mickiewicza at the south end of the library in thirty minutes. If you’re not there, I’ll come back here to the loading dock. I’ll repeat the process every fifteen minutes unless . . .”
Adam nodded. “Yes, I know—unless the NKVD or the police show up.”
“If that happens, I won’t be able to—”
“It won’t happen. Tarnov hasn’t figured it out yet.
” Adam got out of the car and watched Andreyev drive off. He reached into the pocket of his suit coat and felt the Browning 9mm pistol Natalia had given him. A part of him hoped Tarnov would show up.
The janitorial truck was empty, and there was no one around at the moment. Adam checked his watch. It was five minutes past ten. With a groan, he climbed onto the loading dock and stepped into the building.
Natalia entered the library at precisely 10:15, noticing only a scattering of people at the tables in the ground floor gallery. She wasn’t surprised. It was Saturday, and it was summer, with the start of the university’s first fall term after the war still a month away. Following Adam’s instructions, she walked past the information desk and headed for the curved, marble stairway leading up to the Reading Room. As she passed the bust of Copernicus in the center of the circular gallery, Natalia glanced to her left. At a table on the far side of the room, Adam sat with his head down, reading a magazine—right where he had said he’d be.
The Reading Room was vacant except for a middle-aged, paunchy man wearing a gray felt cap, who sat at a table near the rear, leaning over an open book as though he was having trouble making out the print. The librarian on duty—a bald, tired-looking man of about fifty—sat behind the counter at the front of the room sorting index cards.
As Natalia approached the counter she silently rehearsed what Adam had instructed her to ask for—the Proceedings of the Academy of German Law, 1935, the conference where Banach first met Hans Frank. It would be a large leather-bound volume, which Adam remembered from his uncle’s personal collection. He was convinced that Banach had hidden the copy of Stalin’s order in the book before leaving Krakow.
Natalia’s mouth was dry, and she felt very exposed, but so far things were proceeding as planned. They had decided she would be the one to ask for the book because, if he were questioned later, the librarian would be less likely to remember her than Adam, who looked like he’d just stepped out of a boxing ring.
When the librarian finally looked up from his index cards, Natalia smiled. “I wonder if you could help me. I’m looking for the proceedings of a legal conference.”
The man set aside the stack of cards. “Well, I will certainly try. What is the name of the organization?”
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