The Katyn Order

by Douglas W. Jacobson

  “The Academy of German Law,” she replied. “The conference was in 1935.”

  The man scratched his chin, then walked over to an immense card catalog and pulled open a drawer. He slowly thumbed through some index cards, then slid the drawer closed and opened another. Natalia fidgeted while he repeated the process a third time before finally turning back to the counter, looking pleased with himself and holding up an index card. “I believe I’ve found it,” he announced. “I’ll return in a moment.”

  When he disappeared into the stacks, Natalia’s neck began to tingle, and she glanced around the room again. No one was there except the paunchy man hunched over the book. She took a deep breath to calm down and thought about the phrase that Banach wrote in the last page of his journal—pathetic pawns on the perilous chessboard of the NKVD. As a code, it was ingenious. It was a memorable phrase, but Banach knew that Adam was the only person who would connect it to the event where Banach had met Hans Frank before the war—the conference of the Academy of German Law in 1935.

  After an excruciatingly long time, the librarian returned and set the book on the counter. It was indeed a thick, leather-bound volume with gold printing on the spine that read:

  THE ACADEMY OF GERMAN LAW

  PROCEEDINGS OF THE ANNUAL CONFERENCE

  14 - 19 JULY, 1935

  “It’s a reference book and not to be checked out,” he said, “but you’re welcome to take a seat and spend as much time as you need.”

  Natalia thanked him, gathered up the book and moved to a table near the windows. She sat down with her back to the open room, shielding the book from view. Her palms were sweaty and she wiped them on her trousers, then opened the book and carefully thumbed through the pages.

  There! Two sheets of paper folded in thirds and inserted into the middle of the volume. Natalia examined the first one. It was a carbon copy of a document, typewritten in Russian and dated 5 March, 1940. She could make out only a few words, mostly names—J. Stalin, L. Beria, and others she didn’t recognize. A number of signatures were scrawled across the document. She looked around the room a third time, then unfolded the second sheet. It was a translation into Polish in the same precise handwriting she recognized from Ludwik Banach’s journal.

  As Natalia read the translation her eyes clouded with tears. It was all there, exactly as Banach had described in his journal—an order, signed by Joseph Stalin and every member of the Soviet Politburo on 5 March, 1940, authorizing the execution of twenty-seven thousand Polish “nationalists and counterrevolutionaries,” including more than four thousand officers of the Polish Army in the Katyn Forest.

  She sat for another moment, immobilized, staring at the despicable document with tears trickling down her face. She thought about her brother, Michal, shot in the back of the head, his body lying in a ditch in that Russian forest. The document could not bring him back, and it could never heal the wounds . . . but at least now there was proof. At least now, after all the pain and the sorrow, after everything that had been taken away, the dark, silent secret would be exposed.

  Natalia carefully refolded the two sheets of paper, slipped them into the pocket of the vest she wore under her sweater and returned the book to the counter. As she left the Reading Room, she had the feeling that tomorrow would be a better day.

  A quarter of an hour earlier, just after Natalia entered the Copernicus Memorial Library, Rabbit crossed Avenue Mickiewicza and stood on the corner opposite the massive building. He slipped his right hand into his pocket and felt the smooth walnut handle of the knife Karol had given him before they left Nowy Targ. It was a risk, of course. If he were stopped and searched, being armed was an immediate death sentence. But he didn’t intend to be searched.

  He pulled out the pack of cigarettes Adam had also given him, leaned against the side of the building and lit one. Adam had said it would make him appear more casual. Rabbit was feeling a lot of things right now, but casual wasn’t one of them.

  He thought about Natalia and Adam—the Conductor and Wolf—in the library risking their lives for a piece of paper. They had real names, the first people he’d known in a long time who did. Natalia had asked his name the other morning as they sat by the river, the morning she told him what was really going on. But he didn’t have another name to give her, at least not one he wanted to remember. He was Rabbit. He’d been Rabbit since he was eight years old and woke up in the middle of the night surrounded by smoke and flames, his parents lying dead under a heap of rubble in their parlor. He and his brother had run out of the house and into the streets crowded with people shrieking and crying. Since then he’d stayed alive for six years by running fast . . . and he didn’t need another name.

  He wondered about the piece of paper they were all so eager to get their hands on. Natalia had told him what it was about and that it might help Poland gain its freedom. Rabbit doubted that was true. He doubted that a piece of paper, no matter what it said, would make any difference to the tens of thousands of Russian soldiers and NKVD agents who were now crawling over the country. As far as Rabbit was concerned, they were no different than the Germans, and the only thing that would ever make a difference was another army, with more soldiers and more guns. As far as he could tell, that was all that ever mattered.

  Rabbit stiffened and took a quick drag on the cigarette as a long, black Citroën drove past him on the other side of the avenue and stopped in front of the main entrance of the library. An NKVD trooper got out of the auto, followed by an NKVD officer and a short, stocky man wearing a black trench coat. The three of them hurried into the building while another trooper emerged from the driver’s side of the auto and stood guard on the sidewalk.

  Goddamn it!

  Rabbit wasn’t expecting this. Adam had stationed him outside the library just as a precaution. They weren’t even sure that Tarnov knew Adam had escaped, much less that he would show up at the library, right here, right now.

  Rabbit hesitated for a moment, then crossed the wide street and walked toward the auto. Generally very little traffic moved on Avenue Mickiewicza given how few people in Krakow owned automobiles, but suddenly there were no pedestrians around either. No doubt the sight of a long, black auto roaring up and the NKVD piling out was enough to cause passersby to take a detour. So, with no one else on the street, Rabbit gained the trooper’s undivided attention as he drew closer.

  The trooper stepped into the middle of the sidewalk and shouted something in Russian. Rabbit didn’t understand. But he knew what the trooper intended by the way he pointed for Rabbit to go back the way he had come.

  Rabbit continued on, quickening his pace, talking loudly and rapidly: “I forgot my books, I’ll just be a minute, no problem, it will just take a minute.”

  As Rabbit came closer he could see that the trooper was no more than seventeen or eighteen years old, and it was obvious he didn’t understand a word of Polish. But Rabbit’s torrent of words was just enough to cause the Russian a moment of distraction.

  Rabbit continued jabbering and walking faster, his right hand in his trouser pocket, clutching the knife. The trooper shouted again, louder this time, and pulled a pistol from the holster on his belt.

  Rabbit pretended to stumble and dropped to his knees.

  The trooper stepped forward and raised the gun. But he hesitated for an instant.

  It was enough.

  Rabbit sprang up, thrust his hand underneath the stunned trooper’s outstretched arm and shoved the knife into his chest.

  The young Russian uttered a loud grunt, doubled over and dropped his weapon on the ground. Rabbit paid no attention to him as he withdrew the knife and slashed two of the auto’s tires. Then he grabbed the pistol and sprinted toward the library.

  Sixty

  23 JUNE

  10:30 AM

  ADAM GLANCED OVER THE TOP of his magazine just as Natalia emerged from the Reading Room. Even at this distance, and even though she walked hunched over with the cane, he could tell by the way she held her head
that she’d been successful. He set the magazine on the table and was about to push his chair back when Natalia stopped. She was halfway down the stairway, staring at the library entrance.

  Adam turned toward the entrance and saw a uniformed NKVD trooper emerge from the atrium and approach the information desk. Behind him was another NKVD soldier, this one with the distinctive blue hat of an officer. A third man stood behind the officer, short and stocky, wearing a black trench coat.

  Tarnov.

  The trooper snapped at the receptionist in Russian. The young lady looked flustered and stood up, wiping her hands on the sides of her skirt. The officer stepped forward and said something that Adam couldn’t quite hear, and made a gesture as if reading a book. The receptionist frowned, shook her head, then pointed toward the stairway.

  Adam picked up the magazine and lowered his head, peering over the top as Tarnov and the officer marched across the circular gallery. The trooper remained at the information desk, resting his right hand on the butt of the pistol strapped to his waist.

  Adam slipped his hand into the pocket of the suit coat he’d borrowed from Karol and gripped the handle of the Browning. Sit still. . . just for a moment.

  It was almost more than he could bear, but he knew he had to give it a moment to play out. Natalia wore a gray head scarf and walked with a cane. Even if Tarnov had beaten her description out of the priest, he’d be looking for a young woman. Perhaps she’d slip past him. It was a slim chance, he knew, but it was better than a three-on-one firefight.

  As Tarnov and the officer reached the Copernicus bust halfway across the room, Tarnov barked some instructions, and the officer continued on toward the stairway. Tarnov stood in the center of the cavernous room, looking around at the dozen or so persons sitting at tables, all of them now scrunched down in their chairs, heads buried in books. He stepped over to the table closest to him and knocked the book away from a terrified woman.

  Adam slid the Browning out of his pocket and held it under the table. It was heavier than the Walther P-38 he’d used in Warsaw. The barrel was shorter, and it didn’t have the same comfortable feel in his hand. But it was all he had. He glanced toward the stairway.

  Natalia hobbled down the steps. She passed the NKVD officer at the bottom of the stairway. A few steps farther, and he turned suddenly toward her and snapped, “Prikrashchát!”

  Natalia hobbled on.

  The officer shouted again and took a long stride toward her, reaching for her arm.

  Natalia spun around and whacked him on the side of the head with the cane.

  The blow knocked the stunned officer to the floor.

  Natalia dove on the ground and rolled under a table.

  Tarnov jerked his head toward the commotion, pulled a pistol from a shoulder holster inside his coat and started toward Natalia.

  Adam jumped to his feet, brought the Browning up with both hands and aimed at Tarnov. Just as he pulled the trigger a wave of dizziness swept over him, and the bullet ricocheted off the bronze Copernicus bust. It toppled off the pillar and bounced on the marble floor with a deafening clang!

  Chaos erupted. People screamed and crawled under tables. The receptionist at the information desk bolted out through the atrium.

  Tarnov dropped to one knee, turned and fired at Adam, blowing away a bookshelf directly behind him.

  Adam toppled the table on its side, crouched behind it and concentrated on the stairway. The NKVD officer was on his knees, reaching for the pistol on his belt. Adam exhaled slowly, took careful aim and fired. The officer collapsed backward, clutching his stomach.

  Adam flinched as a gunshot from the direction of the information desk slammed into the table. Splinters flew in every direction. A chunk of wood struck his head and blood ran into his eyes. His ears ringing, blinking his eyes against the blood, Adam crawled under the next table.

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Tarnov’s coarse voice echoed through the room. “Throw out weapon, Nowak! In two minutes, more NKVD come!”

  Adam searched the room for him. Where was the son of a bitch? He finally spotted him, crouching behind the pillar.

  Before Adam could figure out how to reach Tarnov, the trooper at the information desk ran to the closest table and abruptly shot the man cowering there in the back of the head. The trooper tipped over the table, dropped to one knee and fired in Natalia’s direction.

  Adam stuck his head above the table, aimed the Browning at the trooper and squeezed the trigger. He missed, knocking a painting off the wall on the far side of the room.

  A woman leaped from her chair and ran screaming toward the entrance. She made it only a few meters before the trooper gunned her down. He moved to aim at Natalia again, but a gunshot from the direction of the atrium hit him in the back, exploding through his chest in a burst of red.

  Adam turned toward the entrance and saw Rabbit sprinting from the atrium to the information desk, a pistol in his right hand. The boy ducked behind the desk just as Tarnov fired at him from behind the pillar. Then Tarnov darted from the pillar and rolled under a table.

  The sirens grew louder.

  Adam stood and fired at Tarnov.

  Tarnov swore loudly.

  Adam dropped to his knees. He looked under the tables and saw the Russian crawling toward the far side of the room, trailing blood. Cursing his dizziness, Adam lay prone on the floor and propped his right arm against a table leg for support. He sighted in on Tarnov’s back and squeezed the trigger.

  Tarnov shuddered. He groaned, then lay still.

  Adam stood up slowly. He leaned on the table for support as the suddenly quiet room spun around in his field of vision. Then he staggered toward Tarnov, holding the pistol out in front of himself.

  Tires screeched outside the building.

  “Adam!” Natalia shouted.

  Adam continued on toward Tarnov, desperately wanting to make sure the bastard was dead.

  “Adam! There’s no time!”

  Adam stopped, his stomach churning, his temples throbbing. “Up the stairs! Now!” he shouted.

  Natalia screamed, and pointed toward the front of the room. “Rabbit! Jesus Christ!”

  Rabbit stood halfway between the information desk and the stairway, swaying from side-to-side, the front of his shirt covered in blood. He slid slowly to the floor.

  Natalia rushed past Adam and dropped to her knees next to the boy. He lay curled in a ball, clutching his stomach, blood oozing between his fingers. Adam followed her and knelt down on the other side. “How bad?”

  Natalia shook her head.

  Rabbit thrashed his legs. His face contorted in pain as Natalia carefully rolled him onto his back. Blood had soaked through his shirt and the front of his pants. She ripped the scarf off her head, folded it and pressed it against the boy’s abdomen. He cried out and clawed wildly at her arm.

  Heavy boots stomped into the atrium.

  “Shit! They’re coming,” Natalia said.

  Adam scooped up Rabbit, struggled to his feet and bolted for the stairway. Natalia trotted alongside him, pressing down on the bloody scarf as they hobbled up the stairs and down the hallway.

  They burst into the Reading Room, slipping on the blood dripping from Rabbit’s wound. The startled librarian backed up against the card catalog. The man with the felt hat huddled under the table. Natalia held the scarf against Rabbit’s stomach.

  “Fuckin’ . . . Ahhh . . . no . . .” Rabbit moaned. He twisted and jerked in Adam’s arms.

  “Hurry, through that door!” Adam shouted. He motioned with his head toward the far end of the counter and prayed that Andreyev would be at the loading dock.

  Natalia kicked open the door, and they ran down the steps to the lower level. At the bottom of the stairs, she grabbed Adam’s arm and jerked him to a halt. She peeled away the blood-soaked scarf and dropped it on the floor, then quickly pulled off her sweater, folded it in half and pressed it hard against the flow of blood from Rabbit’s abdomen.

&
nbsp; The boy grunted and clawed again at her fingers. Then his head rolled back, and his arms went limp.

  “Stay with me, Rabbit,” Natalia shouted. “Stay with me!”

  Trailing blood, they ran past Room L-3 and down the hallway to the service door next to the loading dock. Natalia pushed open the door, and they burst through to the cobblestone lane.

  Andreyev stood next to the GAZ-11. He jerked open the rear door.

  “Lay him on his back!” Natalia commanded as she crawled into the vehicle and crouched on the floor of the backseat.

  Adam eased the boy onto the seat, then crawled in next to her. Andreyev slammed the door shut, jumped in the driver’s seat and they sped away from the library.

  Natalia lifted the sweater and opened Rabbit’s shirt, exposing the bullet wound in his abdomen. It was no larger than the size of a ten-groszy coin, but blood pulsated out, running onto the seat and the floor of the auto in a dark, sticky mass. She reached around underneath him feeling for an exit wound, but there was none.

  “Give me your coat,” she said to Adam. “Quick!”

  Adam pulled off his coat, and Natalia folded it up, pressing it against Rabbit’s stomach. She grabbed Adam’s right hand and placed it on the folded coat. Blood was already seeping through. “Press down firmly, right here, use both hands,” she said, grabbing his left hand and bumping against him as the auto careened around a corner, tires screeching. “Keep pressure directly on the wound. We’ve got to stop the bleeding. It’s the only chance he has!”

  Andreyev shouted from the driver’s seat, “Can he hang on until we get out of the city?”

  Natalia placed her fingers against Rabbit’s neck, directly under his chin, and knew instantly the boy was in deep trouble. His pulse was racing as his heart struggled to keep up with the loss of blood and rapidly falling pressure. “His heart rate’s going wild; he’s losing too much blood! He could go into shock!” She leaned over and put a hand on Rabbit’s forehead. “Rabbit, can you hear me? Stay with me!”