Enemy of the Tzar

by Lester S. Taube

  There was no hesitation now. “Where is the nearest railroad station?”

  “At Gumbinnen. It is about forty kilometers away.”

  “My office will call you with my expected time of arrival there. I will be bringing two of my staff. Have a carriage and escort waiting, please.”

  “Yes, Herr Oberst.”

  “Is there a first class hospital nearby?”

  “Yes, at Tilset. About twenty kilometers away.”

  “Can the wounded man stand the trip?”

  “I think so.”

  “Send him there at once. Be very careful with him. Tell the doctors I want priority treatment. Also send an escort. He is not to speak to anyone.”

  “I will take care of that at once, Herr Oberst.”

  “As for the other two, keep them apart, but give them good treatment also. I should arrive in a day and a half.” Von Raasch could hear a sound as if he was tapping the table with his forefinger. “I would like you to know that I am sending off a signal at once to Commander, General Staff, commending you on your diligence.” Without waiting for a reply or thanks, Dannetz hung up.

  Von Raasch sat back with a satisfied sigh. In his mind’s eye, he imagined the colonel already starting for the train station with an orderly hastening to his home to get a bag packed, and telephone wires turning hot with instructions.

  Hanna and Stephen were startled at the sudden change in treatment.

  They were moved to large, separate rooms in the visiting officers’ quarters of the military building, allowed to take showers in the gleaming latrine, Hanna under the watchful eye of a sergeant’s wife, and then they were outfitted with clean clothes quickly purchased in town, and given a hot, tasty supper. The woman even thought of a comb and hairbrush for Hanna. When each of them asked about the others, they were told that all were receiving first class attention, and that the wounded man was already in the hospital under the care of physicians.

  For the first time in a week, Hanna and Stephen slept in comfortable beds between snow white sheets.

  In a day and a half, as Dannetz had estimated, he arrived at Gumbinnen.

  Von Raasch and Strauss were waiting with a large carriage drawn by two horses. Dannetz was a medium height, lean, sallow-faced man of about fifty years, with hooded, brooding eyes. Accompanying him were two hard-faced captains. All were in civilian clothes. After brief introductions, they climbed into the carriage, and, led by a pair of mounted police, started off at a trot.

  “How are the prisoners?” asked Dannetz of von Raasch.

  “The man and woman are quite well, Herr Oberst. The wounded fellow apparently will live, but has severe damage to a lung.” He was sitting stiffly erect. More information about Dannetz’s power had come down the line, and von Raasch had learned at an early age to sit quietly in the presence of authority.

  “We would like a secluded room or house in the village for our interrogation,” he said to Strauss.

  “That will be arranged the moment of our arrival, Herr Oberst.”

  “Good. Wake me when we get there.” Dannetz leaned back into his seat, and fell asleep at once, followed almost as quickly by his two aides.

  It was late afternoon when Hanna was taken from her room by two of the police, placed in a closed carriage, the shades drawn, and driven a kilometer or so to a small house set off from the village. In the parlor, she saw three men waiting for her. The lean, older man motioned for the police to leave and to close the door behind them.

  “Young lady,” he said courteously in Russian. “Please sit down.” Heart pounding, she took a chair across from him. He leaned forward. “I would like you to listen very attentively. We are not your enemies. You must believe that. Will you try to do so?”

  Hanna did not blink an eye. She sat stiff and tense on the edge of her chair and kept silent.

  “I understand your reluctance to talk,” continued Dannetz evenly. “There is only one question I will ask. You can answer or not as you wish. One thing only. After that, you will be returned to the barracks. Do you understand?”

  Hanna sneaked in a deep breath and nodded.

  He leaned even closer, and his voice dropped. “We are friends of Hershel. All we want to know is if he is safe.”

  Hanna blinked. Her mind gushed with sudden hope, then a wave of disbelief and fear swept over her, and, almost on its heels, like rolling end over end down a hill, she was filled once again with hope. In the midst of the confusion, it came to her that she was for it no matter what was said in this room, for once across the frontier in Russian hands, every detail would swiftly be brought to light. There was no secret who had been involved in that bloody fight in Gremai–Hershel Bloch, Hanna Barlak, and Jakob Golub. And since these three men knew about Hershel, what was the possible use of pretense? But wait! They knew of Hershel, but they did not know about his death. So, if they were truly friends of Hershel, perhaps there was still a chance.

  “He is dead,” she said softly, the words catching at her heart.

  She saw a great shadow of sorrow cloud the lean man’s face, then he sat back into his chair with a sigh that was barely audible. He remained silent for several long seconds, then he said, “Thank you, young lady. We are very sorry to hear that.” He hesitated for another few seconds. “I would like to ask you one more question? Again, you do not have to reply. Were you also his friend?”

  Tears came to her eyes. A friend? No, much more than that. If she had an older brother or a friend for life, it would be Hershel. She nodded.

  “Yes,” said Dannetz. “I can understand that he would be your friend.” He clasped his hands in his lap, the film of sadness still clinging to his face. “I do not know whether Hershel told you, but he was a member of our Socialist Trade Union. He was in Russia to assist the unions there. We are an international organization, not German or Polish or Russian.” He waited a proper moment before going on. “That is why he died, you know.”

  “I did not know that,” she replied. “He said he was an artist, but we were never sure.”

  “Was he killed by the police?” asked Dannetz casually.

  Hanna shrugged. There was not much use remaining silent now, since they were appraised of this much. But the mystery was how they knew she was acquainted with Hershel. Were they tricking her? For what purpose? She felt that she actually knew less about her relationship with Hershel than they did. Except, apparently, how he died. And they could learn all about that quite simply by asking anyone in Gremai. “He was being chased by some men and ran into the village.”

  “Which village?” asked Dannetz at once.

  “Gremai.” At the curious look on his face, she continued. “It is about ten versts from Slabodka. That is across the river from Kaunas.”

  “Then what happened, please?”

  “Two of the men began shooting at him. He fired back and shot them. Then some Cossacks rode up.” Her breath caught in her throat, and her face went taut with memory. “One stabbed him with his lance. He died there.”

  There was a great silence for a while, and then Dannetz turned to one of his aides. “Get some wine for the Fräulein.” They sat quietly as the man left the room, soon returning with a bottle and a glass. He filled the glass and handed it to Hanna. She nodded her thanks, took a few sips, and sat back in her chair.

  “Where were you when this happened?” asked Dannetz.

  “In the square, with Hershel.”

  He sat forward and asked casually, “Did the police or Cossacks question him before he died?”

  She shook her head. “No, he died right there, soon after the Cossack lanced him.”

  Dannetz took an engraved case from an inner pocket and extracted a cigar. “Do you mind?” he asked Hanna. She shook her head no. He snipped an end with a small knife, and lit the cigar carefully. “Thank you for your cooperation. My name is Herr Eric. May I know your name?”

  “Hanna Barlak.”

  “Why are you running from the Russians, Fräulein Barlak?”

/>   Now she saw what they were after! They were trying to have her incriminate herself and Stephen and Jakob. God, what a fool she was again. Why had she not remained quiet? Now they were all doomed. Well, if they were lost, she must protect Stephen at all cost. “They saw us in the square. That is, Jakob and me.”

  “Jakob? The big fellow?”

  “No. The one in the hospital. They must have thought we were helping Hershel, so they came after us. Stephen, the big man, he had nothing to do with it.”

  Dannetz saw at once that he had touched a raw nerve. He stood up. “Thank you, Fräulein. I cannot tell you how sorry we are about Hershel, and your misfortune at having helped him. We will let you return to the kaserne now.”

  She stood up, her heart pounding with apprehension. “What is to become of us?” she asked.

  “As mutual friends of Hershel, we will speak to the authorities about your case.” He motioned to one of his men to take her outside. When they had gone, he said to the other, “It seems certain that he is Levi. Well, have von Raasch allow the woman and man to meet and talk, unsupervised. Let them eat together, take walks.” He snuffed out his cigar. “After a night or two, we will have another talk with her.”

  Hanna could barely conceal her joy when she was taken for supper into a room where Stephen was seated at the table. The moment the door closed behind the escort, she ran into his arms. Their lips pressed hungrily upon each other.

  “Oh, Hanna,” murmured Stephen. “You’ll never know how worried I have been about you.”

  “And I you, my dearest.” She drew back in his arms. “I told them about Hershel.”

  “You didn’t!” he exclaimed, shocked. “They’ll send you back to Russia for sure.”

  “They know Hershel. They said they were his friends.”

  “And you believed them?”

  “It was so believable, Stephen. Why would they mention Hershel’s name if they didn’t know we were acquainted? They did not know he was killed, though.”

  Stephen looked straight into her face. “I think Hershel was a German spy.”

  She bit her lower lip softly on that. The idea had passed through her mind more than once, and pieces that pointed in that direction were beginning to fall into place. “Do you really think so?”

  “I do. Anyhow, tell me exactly what happened.”

  She spoke of the closed carriage ride to the small house, the meeting with the three men, and the conversation she had with Herr Eric. She cut off speaking as the door opened. In came a policeman bearing a large tray of food. He placed it on the table, nodded courteously at them, and left.

  “Look at that!” said Stephen happily. There were two bowls of asparagus soup, thick slices of roast beef, fresh rye bread still warm from the oven, boiled potatoes resting in a sauce of butter and parsley, carrots, and a desert of red currants with sugar. A pitcher of cool beer, and two glasses completed the meal. They fell to with young, hearty appetites.

  “That Herr Eric lied to you,” said Stephen, chewing with gusto.

  “How?” said Hanna, enjoying each mouthful, but stopping to listen.

  “He said he was associated with a Socialist Trade Union. In one of our courses at the university, we were told the Kaiser hates the socialists. So does the Tzar. I can’t accept socialists ordering the police around like they do, unless they are also policemen.”

  Hanna nodded, chewing again, but slowly.

  “Furthermore,” continued Stephen, “notice how we were suddenly given good rooms, new clothing, fine food. And now, meeting and having this delicious supper together.”

  “Do you think they are listening to us?” whispered Hanna, looking about anxiously.

  “What difference does it make?” said Stephen, still eating vigorously. “They know everything. So why be quiet.”

  “They know you were not involved,” said Hanna in a strong voice. “That you helped us out of compassion.”

  Stephen laughed. “A lot of good that explanation will make.”

  “But it is true,” said Hanna, fiercely. She motioned for them to stop talking.

  They continued eating in silence, each to his own thoughts. Almost at the last swig of beer, the guard came into the room again. “You are allowed to walk behind the barracks,” he said in German to Hanna. Outside were two more guards. It was apparent that the area had been placed off limits to the soldiers and police, for it was empty. The two were delighted by the meal, and now a walk in the fresh air of evening. Guarded carefully by the police, who kept a proper distance away, they strolled up and down a grassy lawn.

  “What do you think they will do with us?” asked Hanna softly.

  “I don’t know,” replied Stephen cautiously. “But I am sure they want something more, else they would have sent us back over the border at once.”

  “Jakob is in a hospital,” said Hanna. “I heard he is doing well.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “From one of the men who came with Herr Eric.”

  “Hmm,” said Stephen thoughtfully. “They have got to be secret police,” he went on. “And if they are interested in Hershel, he was one of them.”

  “Yes, you make a good point.”

  “This could be to our advantage, you know.”

  She stopped in her tracks. He motioned for her to keep moving. “How?” she said, starting off again.

  “Tell me again exactly what Herr Eric asked concerning Hershel’s death?”

  “He wanted to know if the Cossacks or police questioned Hershel before he died.”

  “That’s the answer. They are afraid Hershel might have revealed some secrets. That’s what they wanted to know.”

  She looked up in surprise. “Stephen, you are a genius.” She almost laughed, for even in the dusk she could see a flush of embarrassed pleasure sweep over his face. “You have hit it right on the nose. What shall we do?”

  He walked along for a few seconds, thinking it over. Hanna had the opportunity to appraise Stephen again. Because he was so big and strong, and so quiet and gentle, one tended to forget that he had a superior mind. She promised herself that, if the Lord gave them the opportunity, she would not forget for an instant that his intelligence was as large as his body. Stephen finally looked over at her. “We must convince Herr Eric that Hershel did not talk. That is easy, since it is the truth. In that event, if Hershel was a secret agent, they will want to keep everything quiet. So things can blow over. But if Hershel talked, they wouldn’t care what happened to us, for anything we could tell the Russian police would already be known to them.”

  It was now crystal clear to Hanna. “So I can tell them everything if they ask again?”

  “Yes. And you can bet your last ruble they will be asking you again.”

  “I told them the truth about you, Stephen. That you had nothing to do with it.”

  “Say whatever you want about me, darling. It won’t make a bit of difference if we are sent back.”

  She almost stopped in her tracks again. “You said, ‘if we are sent back’. Do you think we have a chance to be set free?”

  “I’d bet another ruble on it.”

  On those words, the police ordered them inside and back to their rooms.

  The following day, Hanna was brought via the carriage to the same house. Dannetz and one of his assistants were waiting.

  “Good morning, Fräulein Barlak,” said Dannetz courteously. “Are you being treated well?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “I’ve asked you here only to talk a little more about Hershel. Could you please tell us how you met him?”

  Hanna took a deep breath. “I have decided to tell you everything I know.”

  “Thank you, Fräulein. Do you mind if my associate makes a few notes while you are speaking?”

  “No.” She sat back into her chair and began telling the story fully and factually, from the time she met Hershel until the day they were apprehended by the police on the road to Gumbinnen. Her memory was so clea
r, and the details so well expressed that Dannetz did not interrupt or ask for clarification. At times her eyes filled with tears, and there were moments she had to stop to regain her composure, and after an hour or so, Dannetz halted the narration while a policeman brought in coffee, slices of bread, and jam. They ate quickly, each eager to continue, and then she went on. It was almost noon when she finished.

  Dannetz sat quietly for a long minute, digesting what he had heard, a curious softness in his eyes upon hearing the last part of the story, of how Stephen had carried Jakob, a man to whom he owed nothing, for day after day to hoped for safety in Germany. He must love this girl with all his being, he thought to himself. Then he stood up.

  “Thank you, Hanna Barlak. Thank you very, very much.” He turned to his aide. “Have Fräulein Barlak taken back to the kaserne.” When they had gone, he went outside, climbed upon a horse held by a policeman, and rode slowly down the road, deep in thought.

  The following morning, Hanna was again taken to the carriage. She smiled with pleasure to see Stephen sitting there.

  “Judgment Day,” he whispered.

  “Be quiet,” said a guard riding alongside.

  They were both taken into the house. One of the aides to Dannetz was waiting there. “Herr Eric had to leave,” he explained. For a moment Hanna’s heart skipped. “But he gave me some very good news. You are both to be taken further into Germany. There you will be set free.”

  “And Jakob?” asked Hanna, her head spinning.

  “Once he is well enough to travel, he will also be set free.”

  Hanna sank onto the chair, weeping, her shoulders shaking in uncontrolled relief. Stephen placed an arm around her. Gradually, she regained her composure and wiped her eyes.

  “May I speak to you in private?” she asked the aide.

  Stephen was startled. He opened his mouth to speak, but the man interrupted. “Please wait outside,” he ordered the Russian. He spoke politely, but the command was clear. Stephen’s chin tightened, but he turned and walked out of the door.