Dog Robber: Jim Colling Adventure Series Book I

by Robert McCurdy

  Chapter Fifteen

  February, 1947

  Elizabeth informed him that Zaletski’s wife and daughters were hiding in a village only twenty kilometers west of Dwiespestka. She had been trying to arrange transportation there from Krakow when she was stopped on the street in a routine check of identity papers. Unfortunately, the group of officials who she encountered included an NKVD lieutenant who recognized the name “Anna Zariski” as someone for whom they were looking. Elizabeth had been cautious about not disclosing her departure date or itinerary before she left, and Quarles was the only one who knew the reason she was going to Poland. But she had obtained her identity papers through someone Quarles used in Heidelberg, and she was certain that the source of the betrayal must be there.

  Colling agreed, pointing out that the previous spring, the documents that had been prepared for the two of them in Germany seemed to mark them from the start, while those they obtained from Tomek had served them well all the way to the end. He told her about Jalesow, and how he could not, for the life of him, figure out how the Reds had seen through his impersonation of Jerzy Krazinsky. He did not think that they had any idea who he really was, only that they had not accepted his role as a Milwaukee cell member as genuine. He speculated that in the ever-suspicious Communist mind, it had been necessary to make inquiries about the American who came bringing a cash donation. He speculated that it had probably not been too difficult for them to find someone in the Party in Milwaukee who had known his cousin and who gave them the news that Jerry Krazinsky was dead.

  Discussing what might have gone wrong in the past, and seeking to come up with logical explanations for what had occurred, seemed to permit Elizabeth, at least to a limited extent, to come to grips with what she had experienced. For the first time, she began relating parts of what had happened to her, discussing them in such an objective way that Colling characterized it in his mind as forced indifference.

  She was proud that she had not betrayed Tomasz’ family. But she had disclosed everything that she knew about Quarles and his organization, little enough that it was. She said she might have mentioned Tomek, but she could not be sure. She remembered babbling on at one point about the Hungarian Riding Academy, and the people she had known there.

  Colling described the staged jeep accident, and the quirk of fate in his meeting Vitarelli that put him on the path to discover that she had not been killed. He left out mention of his initial reaction when he thought she was dead. Elizabeth listened, then thought for a moment, and said that that would explain why her captors had come back persistently with questions about her identity, even though by the second week, she thought she had told them her entire life history.

  Colling asked her if she had told them about himself, and when she said she had never, to the best of her knowledge, spoken of him, what should have come as a relief was in fact painful, as he supposed that she had not thought him important enough to warrant betrayal.

  Elizabeth managed to talk about the substance of the questions she had been asked, and how she had answered. She did not discuss the prison living conditions, or what had been done to her by her captors, and Colling made no effort to draw that information from her.

  Once Colling knew where Tomasz’ wife and daughters were, he gave his attention to devising a scheme to bring them to the von Brechstler estate. He did not want to use the Mercedes, because he did not want news of its existence to be discussed in the district. The pickup was out of the question, what with the Russians having made inquiries about it, and the chance that they might run into a Soviet patrol of some sort on the road.

  The village where the three were hiding was too far away for walking in winter. He settled upon employing the wagon he had used in rescuing Elizabeth. Elizabeth would have to accompany him, since only she knew the code words that would identify her as their rescuer.

  A few dry days in February, and a slight rise in temperature, left the roads clear of ice and snow, although small drifts of white remained along their edges. Colling hoped that the increase would not be warm enough to cause a thaw and turn the roads into mud. Hermann was able to borrow clothes from somewhere that left Colling and Elizabeth looking like a local peasant couple. The following morning, they bundled into the cart, and set off before dawn.

  Their disguise was necessarily impromptu, and they carried no papers. Colling calculated that it was reasonable to assume that Polish peasants travelling by wagon would be seen as locals going about their business, and would not be stopped by Russians or Polish communists they might chance to meet along the way. If they were, they would have to put on a show of ignorance and try and talk their way out of any difficulty. As it turned out, they passed a few farmers walking with axes over their shoulders, apparently headed to cut firewood, and only one other vehicle, a cartload of hay whose driver seemed to be sleeping while his horse found its way to wherever it was going.

  Fortunately, Tomasz had given Elizabeth precise directions on how to reach the house they were seeking, in order to avoid having to ask directions. The village was small and poor, composed of perhaps twenty houses, most of them made of logs, each cottage surrounded by a rough picket fence. Its streets consisted of three dirt tracks crossing the rutted highway. There was nothing that looked like a store or shop, although Colling guessed that one larger house on the main road might serve as a tavern of sorts.

  They found the small log house on one of the side streets just where Tomasz described it as being. Oddly enough, a neatly-lettered sign was nailed to the low fence in front, stating Sckowa or “School.” Colling found it hard to imagine why anyone would locate a school in a poor village such as this place. He also wondered at the advisability of using it as a hiding place, since it would seem natural that the Communists would make it a priority to know what was being taught in any school operating within their territory.

  With Elizabeth beside him on the front stoop of the house, Colling knocked at the door. They could hear children’s voices while they waited. Colling knocked a second time, and the door was opened by a thin balding man who seemed to be about fifty. He looked them up and down through a thick pair of glasses, and then asked, “Yes, what can I do for you?”

  Before Colling could respond, Elizabeth asked, “Do you have someone who can teach my daughter the piano?”

  The man looked puzzled, then invited them in. They found themselves in a large room that was obviously the kitchen. In another room directly in front of them they could see a group of children seated at small tables, arranged as a classroom. A woman’s voice could be heard, dictating what sounded as if it were a lesson about the alphabet. Their host invited them to sit at the long table in front of the fireplace, where something was cooking in a large kettle suspended over the fire.

  The man left them for a few minutes, then returned from somewhere else in the house with a pretty dark-haired woman in her thirties. She asked, “I understand you wish piano lessons. Is there a preferred composer?”

  Elizabeth said, “Chopin, of course.”

  The woman’s face broke into a smile, and she turned to the man who had let them in, “I believe these people are friends of Tomasz’. I am Elena and this is Tomasz’ brother, Stefan Zaletski.”

  Stefan stepped forward to offer his hand to Colling, and for the first time, Colling noticed the red enameled star pinned to the lapel of the man’s vest. Colling hesitated for a moment, and his reaction was noticed by the Pole, who reached up and touched the pin. Before either man could speak, Elena said, “Do not pay too much heed to Stefan’s decorations. It is a matter of survival.”

  “Sorry,” said Elizabeth, “But we did not expect a Party member.”

  “Not to worry,” said Elena, “To be a school master, one must display the proper credentials.”

  “Yes,” added Stefan. “The pin was given to me by a German soldier who had taken it from the cap of a Soviet soldier whom he had killed. The Kraut happened to be grateful for a bottle of vodka I gave him. I w
ear it now because the Reds have already visited our village, and will come again. When they see the red star, they show some friendliness.”

  Colling decided it was best to finish the introductions, and said that their names were Jan and Elzbieta Woznica. He was about to remind everyone that they should be on their way when Stefan offered tea. He quickly found glasses and soon the four of them were seated at the table. Elizabeth did not appear to share his concern that they not delay, and she began asking questions about the school and the Zaletskis.

  Stefan had taught in schools in Krakow and Warsaw before deciding to accept an appointment as a rural schoolmaster under the pre-war Polish government. He and his wife, also a teacher…it was she teaching the class in the next room…had been sent to a number of postings, and just before the German invasion, had come here. There had been little fighting in the vicinity, and it had turned out to be a relatively quiet, though very difficult, five years in getting through the war. Life was primitive, and food was often in short supply. The few Nazi and Soviet troops that did wander through found little to loot, and by hiding in the woods, they had avoided being victims of the soldiers’ anger or caprice.

  Elizabeth finished her tea and set her glass on the table. She looked at Elena, “How soon can you have the girls’ things and your own packed?”

  “Very soon. It will not take long. Let me fetch the girls.”

  Elena Zaletski was true to her word, and not more than a half-hour had passed before she and her two girls were clambering into the wagon with their luggage. Stefan and his wife Maria bid Elena a tearful goodbye. Before climbing up to sit in the driver’s seat, Colling gave the schoolmaster five twenty-dollar bills. Stefan stared wide-eyed at the banknotes, then, as Colling pressed the bills towards him, quickly folded them and stuffed them into his trousers pocket. The man and his wife stood waving at them as Colling urged the little mare down the path to the main road.

  Elena had introduced her daughters’ as Katya and Basia, adding that Katya was eleven and Basia eight. Colling asked if either of the girls spoke English, and Elena, puzzled at the question, told him that they knew only Polish. Colling then asked Elena if she spoke English, and she said, “Yes, a little.” Colling informed her that she and the girls would have to learn at least some English, and quite soon.

  The return to the villa was even less eventful than their journey that morning. The winter roads were still relatively empty, and Colling conjectured that the fact that there were many Home Army veterans in the south of Poland might be a possible inhibiting factor in the Russians and Polish Reds putting out any regular patrols. Colling suspected that that would change by spring, and it would be important to move quickly at the first real break in the weather.

  Colling had debated with himself about the best route to take out of Poland, and decided that he wanted the opinions of Hermann and Elizabeth in reaching a final decision. One evening, he asked that they join him in the kitchen, and over hot glasses of sweet tea, speaking German, he told them that he wanted their comments regarding the best way out of the country. On the table, Colling spread an Esso roadmap he had found in the pickup’s glove compartment.

  Hermann spoke first, running his finger over the map, “Herr Krazinsky, the closest border is south, but the roads through the mountains are not good, and crossing into Czechoslovakia will be difficult. We are as likely as not to be turned back even by the Czech authorities, and all crossings have in place Russians as well.”

  Colling gently reminded Hermann that he would soon have to substitute “Mister Warrencliffe” for “Herr Krazinsky” when addressing him, then, pointing to the map, said, “There are, I believe, certain other possibilities. We might go west towards the Czech border. The distance there across Czechoslovakia to Austria is not great, and if we could reach the U.S. area of Vienna, we would be safe. But we would have to cross the Soviet zone of Austria for a long space of time before we could reach the American zone of Vienna. We might also go farther north, then across the border to Prague, then into Germany. Or, we might choose northwest, around Czechoslovakia and directly to Germany, but that is all the Russian Zone, and more dangerous than Poland.”

  “What about our route last summer?” asked Elizabeth in English.

  “You mean north to the Baltic?” said Colling, responding in German for the butler’s benefit.

  Elizabeth apologized to Hermann, then responded in German, “Yes. It would be my thought that there will be less problem with checkpoints inside Poland than at the borders. And thus far, no one seems to be seeking us,” she replied.

  Hermann nodded his head in agreement, “Yes, Herr…Mister…Warrencliffe, this is a good idea. The Count and Madame went to the seashore on a number of occasions. That was the summer, of course, but I know the way.”

  Colling had thought about going north to the sea, as had been done before, but had some hesitancy because of the probable condition of the roads, and he voiced that concern.

  Hermann replied, “It will, I believe, require that we go to Warsaw. You must understand that before the war, even, the only reasonably decent roads were between the major cities. I think, in truth, there are few or no other passable roads. The highway from Krakow to Warsaw will be necessary, then to Danzig…I believe, however, they call it now ‘Gdansk.’”

  “And once there?” asked Colling. “How will we manage to cross the sea?”

  “Alas, Herr…Warrencliffe…, I have no certain answer for that. Perhaps find a boat of some kind.”

  “Maybe another Orion Belle, Jim?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Not too likely,” said Colling, “I have read that shipping from the West has been severely limited in this past year. I do not believe we will encounter an Orion Belle in Gdansk. It might be possible to hire a fisherman who would be willing to take us across.”

  Hermann interjected, “Even before the war, every fisherman on the Baltic was known to do some smuggling. It could even be more prevalent, given the current political climate.”

  Try as he might, Colling could not see any other alternative that might work as well. None of them were without their uncertainties and risks, but the Baltic seemed to be the most promising. “Done,” he said, “We go to the Baltic. Our story will be that we wish to see the coast, even if it is the wrong season of the year. We are tourists, travelling on Papa’s money, seeing a new communist state being born.”

  “We’re going to have to have lots of luck on our side to pull this off,” said Elizabeth in English.

  “You bet,” said Colling in the same language.

  A good part of their time over the next two weeks was spent drilling the two little girls and their mother in a series of English phrases and reminding the children that they must avoid speaking Polish whenever strangers, especially policemen or soldiers, were present. Colling’s greatest worry was that these instructions would be forgotten, but Elizabeth had learned from Elena that the children had followed her directions to be close-mouthed while they had been in hiding for the past year, and believed that there would be no mistakes.

  Elizabeth made a selection from the Countess’ wardrobe of a number of items, most with expensive Paris and New York labels. Helga proved to be a skilled seamstress, and she shortened the hems of the skirts to conform to the current style. Altering the men’s suits and other clothing that had once belonged to the Count was more difficult, but eventually Colling had a selection of clothing that would enable him to be seen as a well-dressed young American with a taste for the European styles.

  Colling also went over Hermann’s role with him, rehearsing and quizzing him regarding his new identity. Helga was a lesser concern. Her role as maid was close to reality, and would require nothing more complicated than remaining close-lipped. She needed only to remember to address Colling and Elizabeth by the right assumed names, and understand who the other members of their party were supposed to be.

  No snow fell during the final week of February, and Colling decided that the time had come
. They would leave before dawn on Monday, March 3, 1947. His two weeks’ furlough had begun in November, and he should have been back with his unit before Thanksgiving. He had been AWOL for over 90 days, and accepted the fact that he was now classified as a deserter three times over.