Adam shrugged. “The SS kept me in jail for a few days, threatened me, beat me up a bit… but even though I was born in Poland, I was an American, a civilian with a valid U.S. passport, and we weren’t at war yet. So, I was deported.”
“Back to America?”
“That was their intention. I was put on a train with a dozen other Americans who were all being deported back to the states, some of the last ones left in Krakow at the time. But the Germans turned us over to the Belgians when we got to the border. We got off the train in Antwerp, and the rest of them boarded a bus for the port to catch a ship back to America.”
“But you stayed behind.”
“The day before my uncle was arrested he gave me a name and a telephone number—in case anything happened. The name was Stanley Whitehall and the telephone number was the SOE in London.”
“Your uncle was connected with SOE? Sounds like he was more than just a college professor.”
Adam nodded. “I suspected it back in ’39 when the war broke out. But after he was arrested… I don’t know. I didn’t think about it… I just wanted… revenge.”
The shelling was closer now. The walls shook, and pieces of brick fell from the crumbling ceiling. At least the dampness was gone, driven away by the heat of fires that were raging in the streets above them. As they huddled together in a corner of the cellar, Natalia wondered if they’d ever get out of there. And if we do, then what? It had been so long since she’d had any kind of normal life she couldn’t even imagine it.
Suddenly a very loud, very close artillery blast shook the walls of the cave-like cellar. Natalia flinched as the vibration through the earthen floor ran up her spine. The lantern swung back and forth precariously on the post, and Adam slid his arm around her, pulling her closer. “Tell me about your village,” he said.
“My village?”
“Yes, where you grew up. Tell me about it.”
She pulled away. “Why?”
“Because I’d like to know. Besides, like you said the last time we were here, it’s better than just listening to the shelling.” There was a softer expression on his face, something she hadn’t seen before. He seemed… more relaxed.
She leaned back against the wall and sighed. It was so long ago. “I grew up ten kilometers east of Lwow, a rural area, mostly peasant farmers who’d been there for generations. My father was a doctor, and there was a small hospital. I worked there when I wasn’t at university in Lwow.”
“What did you study?”
“Medicine, of course. When your father’s a doctor, what else would you study? The medical school reserved ten chairs for women, the same number they reserved for Jews and Ukrainians. Very civilized, don’t you think?”
He nodded. And when he smiled at her she felt something pass between them, a magnetism that seemed to draw them closer. For the first time since they’d met, she felt that he really cared about what she was saying.
“I was in Lwow when the first German soldiers arrived. The fall term hadn’t started yet, but all the students were there anyway. We’d seen the airplanes almost every day since the beginning of September and we knew what was about to happen. There was only a small Polish Army garrison to defend the city at the time, so we all signed up and did what we could—set up barricades, dug anti-tank ditches, raced back and forth with messages, food and water.” She paused and shook her head. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”
He reached over and took her hand. “Yes, too familiar.”
“Then the Luftwaffe flew in, dropping incendiary bombs. It was hell… fires everywhere. Just like hell. Our soldiers hung on, and we did everything we could to help. But then…”
“The Russians?”
Natalia clenched her jaw. “Yes, the Russians. Everyone was stunned. We had no idea what was happening. At first they sent in an envoy. He said they were here to help us. Of course, it was a lie; the only criminal worse than Hitler is that treacherous son of a bitch Stalin.”
She dropped his hand, and propped her elbows on her knees, rubbing her forehead. Lwow had been so beautifuclass="underline" the opera and ballet, the churches and palaces, the magnificent Baroque and Renaissance architecture… “The next day the Germans pulled out, the Russians moved in and the NKVD started arresting people.”
Adam placed a hand on her shoulder. When she continued her voice was just above a whisper. “I managed to get out of the city and walked back to our village, taking all the back roads and paths through the forests to avoid the Russian soldiers. But when I got there…”
She swallowed hard and brushed away a tear. Don’t cry, damn it! “When I got there the village was… there was nothing left. The fires were still smoldering, our house was destroyed and they were… my parents, my relatives, everyone… they were just… gone.”
Tears ran down her cheeks, and she wiped them away, cursing under her breath. “I left… got lost, actually… in the forests. Then, several days later, I met some people. They were partisans, forming a resistance movement. We eventually became part of the AK.”
“When did you go to Krakow?” Adam asked.
“About a year later, in the autumn of ’40. The commander of our AK unit arranged for me to get a job on the railway.”
Adam smiled again. “Hence the name, ‘Conductor.’”
Natalia shrugged. “Not very original as code names go.”
“So, I assume you did more than just punch tickets on the train.”
“Eventually, but not right away. I worked strictly as a conductor for almost two years. I hardly heard from the AK. I’d actually started to think they’d forgotten about me.”
“And then…?”
“In the spring of ’42 I heard from a priest, of all things. He gave me a new assignment. Then someone I never met, called ‘the Provider’—”
A thundering explosion rocked the building, and the center support post sagged. An instant later a section of the ceiling collapsed, and the lantern shattered on the floor in a blaze of sparks, buried instantly under the rubble and plunging the cellar into blackness.
Natalia groped in the darkness and found Adam’s hand. They scrambled to their feet, choking on dust and stumbling over piles of plaster and wood, until they found the tunnel exit.
They ran through the tunnel and up the staircase, following the reddish-yellow glow from outside.
The scene beyond the doorway was every bit as hellish as Lwow had been—blazing fires and thick, black smoke, blinding flashes in the sky, and the constant thud of bursting shells. Every building in sight had been reduced to a shattered ruin.
Adam squeezed her hand. “We’ve got to run for it.”
She nodded.
But he didn’t move.
He stared at her for another moment, his eyes reflecting the softness, the growing feeling of togetherness she’d felt in the cellar. Then he leaned over and kissed her.
She slipped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him close as they kissed again. Longer this time, his hand sliding around her waist.
Then he abruptly broke it off.
He took a step back. “We have to go.”
She reached over and brushed his cheek. “Yes, I know.”
He smiled at her, but the look in his eyes that had been there a moment ago was gone.
Eighteen
ADAM GLANCED BACK at Natalia. She motioned for him to keep going as they made their way through the rubble on Piekarska Street, then climbed over a half-demolished stone wall. Twelve other AK commandos were waiting for them on the other side, including Rabbit, who stood at the front of the line, his face flushed and his trousers soaked with muck.