Irena's War

by Shipman, James D.

  “How could we avoid it?” demanded Klaus. “Three hundred calories a day? There are bound to be rule breakers.”

  “You picked that number, not us.” The colonel retrieved a pipe and stuffed some tobacco inside, tamping it down with the end of his thumb. Some of the flakes flicked off the end of the pipe and tumbled to the floor. He lit the pipe and took a couple puffs. “Now don’t get me wrong, Klaus, we’re pleased with what you’ve done.”

  Klaus looked at the mess on his carpet. He took a deep breath and returned to the subject. “But you’re upset with the smuggling?”

  “Herr Frank doesn’t care a bit about a little black marketeering. If the Jews want to prolong their lives for a few months, so be it. We’ll get all of them in the end.” The colonel took a final puff and tapped the end of his pipe on his dish, expelling ash onto the porcelain. “His concern is the defiance. They are getting away with thumbing their noses at us. This encourages not only the other Jews but much worse, the Poles. We have enough of a resistance problem already, we don’t need to give them further hope.”

  “So, it’s the Poles you’re really after?” asked Klaus, reaching out with a handkerchief to remove the ashes from the colonel’s dish.

  “Just so. We need to crack down on them.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “You’re a policeman,” said the colonel. “I’m surprised I need to tell you. Do some police work. Catch them in the act. A few high-profile arrests should give us just what we need to tamp down their ardor. I want real proof though,” he said. “Don’t give them a reason to complain. If you have solid evidence and you hit them hard in a few places, we should have a break—at least for a few months.” Wagner wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “I’ve worked myself up,” he joked. “First too cold, now too hot. I think I’m getting too old for all of this.”

  “Aren’t we all, Colonel,” said Klaus.

  “Well, the two of us, at least. What about young Peter here?”

  “He’s certainly doing fine,” said Klaus. “He’s worked his way through half the women of Warsaw.”

  “No Jews though, correct?” asked Wagner abruptly.

  “No, sir,” answered Peter. “I always follow the rules.”

  “Good,” said the colonel, rising. Klaus and Peter scrambled to their feet, saluting the inspector with a crisp Heil Hitler. “I’ll leave you to it then. Remember, catch them in the act. Bring Frank some Poles to execute, and all will be well.”

  “Jawohl,” said Klaus.

  The colonel departed, leaving Peter and Klaus to settle back into their seats. “What the hell was that all about?” demanded Peter.

  “Bureaucratic garbage, that’s what it is,” said Klaus thoughtfully. He picked up his phone and gave an order. He set the receiver down and looked back up at Peter. “Stop the smuggling. Make an example. What a bunch of nonsense. We have contained five hundred thousand Jews and done it under budget. But they ignore all of that and focus on the one problem we have. The same issue being reported by every damned ghetto in Poland!”

  “What are we going to do about it?” asked Peter.

  “We’re going to give them some arrests,” said Klaus, still stalking the room. “The question is, where and how?”

  “We can crack down on the gates,” suggested Peter. “Add extra guards and more random patrols in the quarter.”

  Klaus shook his head. “They don’t want the Jews. They want the Poles.” Klaus paused, rubbing his chin. “But which Poles? I’ve killed just about every leader in this city already. Who do they want me to get? And why does he want proof? As if anyone will care when this is over. How about the half million Poles we already killed? What were their crimes? A university degree?”

  There was a knock at the door. “Not now!” shouted Klaus.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but there is someone here to see you. Someone you are going to want to meet with.”

  “Can’t this wait?”

  “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “Fine.” He rose. “I’ll attend to this.” He turned to the attendant at the door. “Sweep up that tobacco. That pig has no manners.” He turned back to his assistant. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Peter. I want you to draw up a list of potential Polish targets. And cancel my afternoon meetings. This takes top priority now.”

  An hour later Klaus returned. He stepped into the office and sat down without saying a word.

  Peter looked up. “I have some preliminary concepts, sir. I think we should start with the police force. They have access to the ghetto and—”

  “Forget that.”

  “What, sir? I’m telling you that they—”

  “I said forget it.” Klaus leaned back, smiling. “I have everything I need.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Klaus leaned forward. “Our visitor had some very interesting news about the social welfare building.” He leaned forward. “Now here’s what we are going to do.”

  Chapter 15

  Betrayed

  February 1941

  Warsaw, Poland

  Irena sat in her office, her mind racing. Maria had departed, leaving her alone with her problem and her fears. Jan knew about Kaji! Half the office knew! It was only a matter of time now until she would be betrayed. She didn’t know what to do. First things first, she had to talk to Jan. He was the biggest threat right now for immediate action. She handed Kaji another cake and stepped around the desk, kissing the little girl on top of the head.

  “I have to leave for a few minutes, and I want you to promise to stay right here.”

  “Where are you going?” Kaji asked anxiously. “Don’t leave me alone again.”

  “I’m not going away,” said Irena. “I just need to speak with the man who just visited us.”

  “He seemed mad,” said Kaji, screwing up her face. “I don’t like him.”

  “He’s not mad,” said Irena. “Everything is going to be fine. Here,” she said, pulling over some paper and a pen. “When you’re finished eating you can draw.”

  “What should I make?” she asked.

  Irena stopped at the door. She could hardly force herself to think. “Um . . . draw a picture of me.”

  Kaji squealed in delight. “Okay, I will!”

  Irena sprinted down the hallway and up the stairs to Jan’s office. When she reached it, she was horrified to see the door was closed. She pounded on the opaque glass window but there was no answer. She tried the door. Locked. Panic knifed through her. Jan had left. He’s gone to turn me in, she thought. She shook her head. She couldn’t jump to conclusions. He might even be somewhere else in the building. She moved quickly through the top floor and then down to the second and the first. The building was empty. Not only was Jan gone, but Maria was missing too. What was she going to do?

  Lwów. The word popped into her head out of nowhere. Of course! She’d heard the story of a Catholic parish that burned down in the city of Lwów. All the birth records were gone, which meant that any birth certificate registered to the parish in Lwów would be untraceable. They had certificates here in the building. They were kept in a file cabinet in Jan’s office. If she could get ahold of one of these documents, she could doctor the form and then Kaji would have official papers. She could take her home, and nobody would be the wiser.

  She checked her watch. Jan had left her office no more than an hour ago. Maria had disappeared a few minutes later. If either had run to the police, she still should have a little time before anyone would arrive. All she had to do was get into the office, grab one of the certificates, fill it out quickly, and get Kaji out of the building before anyone arrived. She rushed back to the second floor and checked on her own office. Kaji was still there, happily drawing. She wanted Irena to stop and look at the picture she was drawing, but Irena told her she would return in a few minutes and she bolted down the hallway and back up to Jan’s office.

  How was she going to get into the office? Perhaps her key
would work. Her key opened several locks in the building, including the bathroom, the front door, the file room, and her own office. Perhaps it would work for Jan’s door as well. She removed the ring from a pocket in her skirt and shoved it into the keyhole. It fit perfectly and she smiled in relief. She turned the key. Nothing happened. The key wouldn’t budge. She tried both directions but although it fit the hole, it was not cut to open the lock.

  She looked around desperately. Could she break the window? There was a broom closet a few doors down. She started that direction and then stopped herself, willing her mind to slow down. No, she couldn’t force her way in. If she did, Jan would know someone had taken something from his office. He would eventually put the pieces together and figure out what she’d done. She couldn’t risk it.

  She returned to the door, removing a pin from her hair. She’d read about lock pickers, but she had no idea how it worked. She placed the sharp end into the keyhole and moved the metal pin around, trying to force the lock open. She tried for long moments, checking her watch again and again. Finally, with a scream of frustration she ripped the pin out and threw it down the hallway. Tears were coming now. Another twenty minutes had passed. Jan could be back with the police any moment. What was she going to do?

  She raced back down the hallway and returned to her office. Kaji was there, the picture complete. She held it up for Irena to see. Irena forced a smile, trying to hold back the tears. Kaji was in danger and there was nothing she could do about it. She scrambled for any idea, anything she could do to get into that office. A locksmith! The idea hit her like a thunderbolt. Of course! She just had to find someone to open the door. She would pretend it was her own office. She had a key to the front door. There would be no reason for her to worry about arousing his suspicion.

  “I’m going to have to leave for a few more minutes, Kaji.”

  “But today is our day!” she protested. “You promised to spend all of it with me!”

  “I know. I’ll make it up to you. Make another drawing and I’ll be back before you finish.”

  Kaji was unhappy but there was nothing for it. Irena turned and rushed back out of the office, heading toward the door. She reached the exit just as Maria returned. The woman jerked in surprise when she saw her, a strange look on her face.

  “Where’ve you been?” demanded Irena.

  “None of your damned business, that’s where,” snapped Maria. “Have you taken care of your problem yet?”

  “She’s not a problem, she’s a little girl.”

  “She’s a Jewish little girl,” responded Maria. “So she’s a big problem, no?”

  “I have to go,” said Irena, pushing past her. Maria caught her by the arm and their eyes met.

  “I would hurry if I were you.”

  * * *

  Irena scrambled down the stairs and on to the street. She had in mind where to go, a little key shop she passed on the way to work every day. She was sure she’d seen a locksmith sign on the door. She rushed down the sidewalk, half running, pushing past pedestrians out for a weekend stroll. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears as fear and anxiety pumped through her body. The shop was halfway between her work and home. She normally took about fifteen minutes to reach this point, but today she arrived in less than eight.

  The store was closed. She knew it immediately from the darkened windows. She tried the door anyway, but it was locked. She looked this way and that. What was she going to do? She asked a passerby if they knew where another shop was. The woman didn’t. She tried a second person and a third. Finally, she stopped an elderly gentleman who directed her toward a store a kilometer or so away. She started in that direction, checking her watch as she hurried through an intersection. She’d already been gone a half hour. She moved as quickly as she could, but her feet were failing her. Her breath sputtered out in ragged huffs, making foggy clouds of frozen steam as she passed down the sidewalk.

  She reached the next store about ten minutes later. Closed again. She checked her watch. Forty-five minutes since she’d left. If she was betrayed, the Germans might have already come and gone. She thought back to Maria’s words. To her expression. She couldn’t worry about that right now. She repeated the same process, stopping people on the street and asking if they knew of any locksmiths. She finally found a lead to a third store. This one was closer. Just a few hundred meters away. She shambled toward it, noting the failing light. If she didn’t find someone soon it would be curfew and she would be forced to either return home or spend the night helplessly with Kaji at the office.

  She arrived at the store. This one was open. She stepped inside and spotted a middle-aged Pole of slight build, iron-gray closely cropped hair, and a thick salt-and-pepper mustache. He was moving some items off the counter. “I’m sorry, we’re closing,” he said offhandedly, not looking up.

  “No, you can’t be!” shouted Irena, rushing up to the counter and leaning over it, fighting to catch her breath.

  “Have to,” he said, looking her over now with curiosity. “Curfew’s not far off.”

  “I have to get into my office! It’s an emergency.”

  He gave her a surprised look. “There are no emergencies getting into an office. I’m open on Monday and I can help you first thing. Good evening.”

  He started to turn but she reached over the counter and grabbed his arm. He turned in surprise. “Please. I’m begging you. I need your help.”

  He hesitated. “How far away?”

  “Not far,” she said.

  “Very well. Let me get my things.”

  She waited impatiently while he gathered his tools. “Please hurry,” she implored him.

  “I’m ready,” he said. “I can’t imagine what you need to get into an office for that would create this kind of crisis.”

  She didn’t answer him but instead took off out of the store, scrambling down the sidewalk toward her building.

  “Wait up, miss!”

  She heard him calling, but she kept her pace, knowing she might already be too late. She turned the corner a few minutes later and froze. There were multiple cars parked out front at odd angles. There was only one reason a jumble of vehicles would be stopped outside her office.

  “There you are,” said the locksmith, huffing and puffing as he caught her. “Running a race, are you? Now where is your office? You said it was close.”

  She pointed toward her building, unable to speak. He looked up and his face turned a ghostly white. “Now, miss, I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re mixed up in, but I know what those cars mean. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” He backed away and then turned, springing into an awkward jog. She let him go. She knew there was no point now. She stared at the cars for a few moments longer. She thought about leaving, but what was the point? They’d simply arrest her at home. And besides, Kaji was inside. She took a couple of deep breaths and then moved toward the entryway.

  A German stood at the door, covered in a dark hat and overcoat. He eyed her but said nothing, allowing her to pass. She found this even more ominous. She made her way down the hallway and up the stairs. She turned a corner and there they were, a huddle of figures standing at the entrance to her office.

  An officer stepped out of the office and turned, looking in her direction. It was Klaus. “Ah, Frau Sendler. I haven’t seen you in some time. Won’t you come this way?” He motioned for her to join him in her office. She had no choice but to obey.

  As she moved toward the door, she saw a flash of light down the hallway. Maria was there, match in hand, lighting a cigarette and watching her with impassive eyes, that half grin frozen on her lips.

  She entered the office and was surprised to see several Germans sitting at the seats across from her desk. She scanned the room quickly, but she couldn’t find Kaji. They must have already taken her away, she realized.

  “Please have a seat, Frau Sendler.”

  Irena took her chair, looking around in confusion.

  Klaus watched her for a few seco
nds. She recognized his assistant, Peter, as well, who was standing behind his commander with a slight grin on his face. He gave her a wink.

  “Where is she?” Klaus asked.

  Irena paused before answering him. They didn’t have her? “Where is who?” she asked.

  “The Jew you’re hiding.”

  “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Frau Sendler. I know you’re hiding a Jewish girl in this building. Now you can lead me to her, or we will tear this place apart, and find her for you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She wondered where Kaji was. Had she gone back down to the basement? If so, they would find her in the next few minutes.

  “Have it your way.” Klaus turned to Peter. “Search the building and find the girl.”

  The hulking assistant left with the other two seated men. Irena heard him giving orders in the hallway and then footsteps moving in many directions as the search began. Klaus took a seat across from her, staring at her without saying a word. She tried to meet his gaze, but she couldn’t keep up the courage and she looked away. She battled to fight down the fear. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

  “Why don’t you tell me where the little Jew girl is?” Klaus asked. “Really, Irena, I already know she’s here. If you tell me, I’ll put in a good word for you with the authorities. I know you think every arrest ends with a grave, but there are other alternatives. If you admit the truth now, you might come out of this alive.”

  She didn’t respond but she looked up. What did he mean, alternatives?

  “That’s right. We have friends here, there, everywhere. You think you’re being a patriot by hiding a Jew? You’re only hurting your own people. But if you turn her over now, and agree to help us in the future, I’ll see to it that you’re returned home in the morning, alive and in one piece.”