She turned in the seat and faced him, her look matter-of-fact. “Your grandfather was extremely popular and is revered by many of our people.”
Pontowski gave her his lopsided grin. “Local boy makes good.”
Ewa was not amused. “He was the first president of the United States of Polish descent. My mother still has a picture of him in her surgery. It is next to Karol Wojtyla.”
“Hanging next to the pope. Gramps would be impressed.”
“My mother always hoped he would visit Poland,” she said.
“He wanted to.”
“That is the story of Poland. So many wanted to, but when history is written, they did nothing.”
There was no admonishment in her voice, only the dull recitation of fact. Pontowski wanted to explain why his grandfather never visited the land of his ancestors, but he didn’t know the reason. He changed the subject. “Your English is perfect.”
Again, the serious look. “I learned from my grandmother. She was born and raised in Chicago.” She spoke to the driver in Polish and he turned down a side street, taking a back way to the embassy. “Traffic is very heavy,” she explained.
“Warsaw reminds me of New York,” Pontowski said. “Without the skyscrapers.” She didn’t answer and they rode in silence to the embassy. The gate guard waved them to a stop and a security team checked the car for a bomb. The driver pulled ahead and stopped at the side entrance.
A Marine guard opened Pontowski’s door and came to attention, snapping a perfect salute. “Good morning, General Pontowski. Welcome to Poland.”
Pontowski returned the salute and followed Ewa inside. “Does everyone know who I am?”
“You look very much like your grandfather.”
Bender was waiting for Pontowski in his office with Peter Duncan, Evan Riley, and Winslow James. “Welcome to Poland,” Bender said.
Pontowski laughed. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that today.”
Bender sat down and steepled his fingers. “I’m not surprised. The Pontowski name carries weight over here.”
“Is that why you asked me to head the ODC?” ODC was the legation’s Office of Defense Cooperation.
“Partly. Peter, why don’t you fill Matt in?”
Duncan cleared his throat and explained what they had accomplished with SPS. “It turns out the Poles are capable of taking care of themselves. But they do need help in certain areas.”
“Like current intelligence,” Riley added.
“In the case of the Polish Air Force,” Bender said, “we want to enable them to control their own airspace, which the Russians apparently consider their private preserve. But we are not sure exactly what they need or how receptive they will be to our suggestions.”
“Your name,” Winslow James added, “will overcome a great deal of resistance.”
“We have discovered,” Riley said, “that Russian organized crime is a bit arthritic and doesn’t respond quickly. We’re on a roll right now and want to keep up the momentum.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Pontowski said. “If I read you right, the SPS was a force in being and only needed good intelligence. It won’t be so simple with their air force.”
“For now,” Bender said, “get settled in. We’ll talk more on Thursday when you’re over jet lag and have been briefed on the situation.”
Winslow James checked his notes. “I have a series of briefings set for Wednesday morning. I’ve also detailed Miss Pawlik as your translator and assistant. She’ll help you as needed.”
“A lovely girl,” Duncan added wistfully.
“Matt, we need to speak privately,” Bender said, dismissing the other three men. He waited until they left and the door was closed. “You should fit in well here. Duncan has done wonders and will help you in anyway he can.”
“What about the CIA?”
Bender grew thoughtful. “Riley has been very cooperative, but I sense that can change in a heartbeat. Be careful how you handle the staff. The foreign service is very touchy about the way they do business and anything moving faster than a snail upsets them. James is coming around but he can still get fussy.” He thought for a moment. “Matt, there is something we must get straight.” He paused, searching for the right words.
“What’s that, sir?”
Bender came right to the point. “Your relationship with President Turner.”
“I’ve heard the rumors.”
“The papers and the wires are full of it. Please remember, you’re still in the Air Force. I will not have an officer working for me sleeping with a superior officer who, in this case, is his commander in chief.”
“Sir, I am a subordinate officer and respect your position. But I don’t think this is any of your business.”
The two men looked at each other. Both wanted to avoid a confrontation but they had to clear the air. “Matt, it’s called fraternization.” Bender stood and paced the carpet. “We have to set the example or the troops won’t follow. I’ve seen the havoc a pretty private or cute second lieutenant can play with good order and discipline.” He shook his head. “But sex seems to overpower everything and it always gets us in the end.”
Pontowski laughed. “That’s where it’s supposed to get us. Don’t worry, sir. Maddy Turner understands the game better than any of us. Nothing untoward has happened, or will, as long as she’s president.”
Bender relaxed. “I hope I can count on that.”
“You can, sir.”
The rest of the week rushed by, filled with briefings and the normal routine of settling in. Thanks to Ewa, he found an apartment in Wilanów, not too far from the ambassador’s compound and the American School. He was shocked at the rent but Ewa assured him his station allowance would cover it. He ordered a car through Foreign and Diplomatic Sales and settled into his office. The two lieutenant colonels, one Air Force and one Army, who worked for him were eager overachievers anxious to prove themselves. Consequently, there was little for him to do other than signing the voluminous amounts of paperwork that appeared, as if by magic, on his desk every day.
Problems started when he asked to visit a Polish fighter squadron. The air attaché, an Air Force colonel, disapproved his request saying such a visit was outside the Office of Defense Cooperation’s area of responsibility. Pontowski was about to march into the colonel’s office for a quick head-knocking session when Ewa stopped him. “Let me speak to his secretary first,” she said. She bought some flowers on her lunch break and, later that afternoon, the request was approved.
“What would I do without you?” Pontowski asked.
“You wouldn’t see the Polish Air Force,” she replied.
The traffic on the road leading to Okecie Airport slowed and came to a halt. Pontowski shifted his weight and looked out the car window. Three tour buses were unloading what looked like Russian soldiers in front of a huge monument on the other side of the street. Ewa followed his gaze. “That’s a monument to the Russian soldiers who were killed liberating Poland from the Germans in World War II. They remember.”
“Is that all the Russians did for Poland?”
She shrugged. “They built the Palace of Culture and Science as a gift to the Polish people.”
Pontowski twisted around in his seat. The ugly brown building dominated Warsaw’s skyline. “It’s a monstrosity.”
“It’s useful,” she replied, “and it serves as a reminder.” The traffic started to move and a few minutes later, the staff car pulled into the barracks next to the airport. Pontowski buttoned the coat to his uniform, adjusted his scarf, and belted his topcoat. First impressions were everything.
A Polish brigadier general and two other officers saluted when he entered the building. “Welcome to the 1st Air Regiment,” the brigadier said. They shook hands. “We were the first to fly the F-16 and like to think we are the premier air defense unit in our Air Force. We are at your service.” They talked while a staff sergeant got his parachute bag out of the car’s trunk. “I see you brought your flying gear,” the brigadier said nervously. “Perhaps we can accommodate you with a flight in our D model if the weather cooperates.” He sounded hopeful that it would not. As expected, the Polish Air Force had put its best foot forward for Pontowski’s visit, wanting to impress him. But he knew what to look for. The office equipment was old, the building needed repair, and no flights were posted on the scheduling boards.