When General Kovalenko’s car pulled up in front of the headquarters tent, two Red Army soldiers scrambled to attention and one opened the rear door. Kovalenko stepped out, glanced around quickly, then entered the tent. He handed his greatcoat to a soldier at the door and surveyed the cadre of officers scurrying around with messages and instructions for the regiments that were about to enter the wasteland of Warsaw.
Captain Andreyev sat at a table in the center of the tent studying a report. He stood up and saluted smartly. “Dóbraye útra, General,” Andreyev said loudly enough to stop all activity inside the tent. “Welcome to Warsaw.”
Kovalenko grunted and waved his hand, signaling everyone to carry on, then stepped over and tossed his hat on the table. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.
Andreyev produced a lighter and lit the general’s cigarette. “You have a visitor,” he said.
Kovalenko blew out a cloud of smoke and sat down at the head of the table. “A visitor? Here?”
Andreyev nodded. “An NKVD officer. Major Tarnov.”
“Tarnov? What the hell is he doing here?”
“He arrived first thing this morning in his own automobile, as soon as we crossed the river. Do you know him?”
Kovalenko thought back to a dreary, rainy night in Siberia in 1940. But Andreyev didn’t need to know about that. At least, not yet. “I know the name, that’s all. What does he want to do, hunt down rats in the sewers? There’s nothing left.”
Andreyev shrugged. “He wouldn’t say. Just insisted on talking with you as soon as you arrived.”
Kovalenko stood up. “Go get him. Let’s find out what service we can provide for the secret police.”
Andreyev left the tent and returned a few minutes later accompanied by a short, stocky NKVD officer. Andreyev stood back as the officer stepped up to the table, saluted the general and said, “Major Dmitri Tarnov, NKVD 105th Frontier Guards Division.”
Kovalenko nodded without speaking.
Tarnov continued. “I have orders to detain and interview any terrorist insurgents of the AK held in your custody.”
Kovalenko studied the thick-necked NKVD officer, who obviously didn’t recognize him from the incident in Siberia. Then he smiled, sat down and took a long drag on his cigarette. He didn’t offer Tarnov a seat. “Well, Major Tarnov, did you look around when you arrived in Warsaw this morning? If you did, then you must have noticed that there is nothing left—no buildings, no churches, no houses. There’s no fucking people left, Major, let alone terrorist insurgents.”
Tarnov appeared unfazed. “We understand that several thousand AK terrorists escaped from the German Wehrmacht at the time the city was evacuated. I have orders to—”
Kovalenko cut him off with a wave of his hand and addressed Captain Andreyev. “Captain, please explain to our guest what we know about the fate of the AK in Warsaw.”
Andreyev stepped up to the table. “Of course, you realize, Major Tarnov, that the Red Army was not present in Warsaw at the time of the evacuation. However, we understand that more than ten thousand members of the AK surrendered to the Wehrmacht and were subsequently sent to POW camps in Germany.”
Tarnov nodded impatiently. “Da, we have the same intelligence, Captain. But we also know that there were several thousand more AK insurgents who slipped through, blended in with the civilians and escaped. What can you tell me about—?”
Kovalenko cut him off again. “We don’t know anything about them, Major Tarnov. They could be anywhere. Now, unless there’s anything else, we are quite busy this morning.”
Tarnov withdrew an envelope from a leather folder and laid it on the table. “As a matter of fact, General Kovalenko, there is something else. I have further orders. And these orders come directly from Commissar Beria.”
Kovalenko leaned back in his chair. “That’s very interesting, Major. What orders do you have from the Commissar of the NKVD that brings you here to Warsaw—other than hunting for the remnants of a defeated nation’s Home Army?”
“These orders do not concern Warsaw or the AK, General Kovalenko. These orders require that you provide me with safe passage to Krakow immediately.”
Kovalenko ignored the envelope. “You want safe passage to Krakow? What the hell for?”
“I am not at liberty to answer that, General. I am on official NKVD business, and it is imperative that I get to Krakow and the former German headquarters at Wawel Castle immediately.”
Kovalenko took another drag on his cigarette. What’s so important at Wawel Castle?
Tarnov persisted. “You are moving on to Krakow, are you not, General? Our information is that—”
Kovalenko abruptly ground out the cigarette in an ashtray. Then he shoved his chair back and stood up, towering over the NKVD officer. “Da, Major Tarnov. We are heading on to Krakow. The Germans are retreating, and we will be moving into Krakow within the next few days.”
“My orders require me to get to Krakow immediately, General. I must request that—”
“Goddamn it, Major, are you deaf? I don’t give a shit what orders you have. The Germans are retreating from Krakow now, as we speak. Red Army units will be moving in within the next few days. That’s when you’ll get to Krakow.”
Tarnov nodded. “Very well, General, I will pass that along to Commissar Beria.” He gestured toward the envelope. “If you’d care to inspect the orders?”
“I don’t have time to inspect your orders, Major. Show them to Captain Andreyev on your way out.”
Three days later, the Red Army entered Krakow. For the second time in the war, the city had escaped major damage. The Germans had fled, and Krakow had been taken without a shot being fired.
General Andrei Kovalenko sat in the backseat of the GAZ-11 with Captain Andreyev as they drove along the narrow, cobblestone streets of the ancient city, the Mecca of Poland for a thousand years. They drove through the Rynek Glowny, Krakow’s central market square dominated by the Baroque, fifteenth-century Mariacki Church and the colossal Renaissance façades of the Cloth Hall. They passed the City Hall Tower, proceeded south along Avenue Grodzka and up the hill to Wawel Castle.
In the auto right behind them was Major Dmitri Tarnov of the NKVD.
Twenty-Three
STARTLED BY THE SOUND of an approaching truck, Adam scrambled off the dirt road and crawled into the high grass. He lay flat, holding his breath. It was well past midnight, a dark night, and the Red Army soldiers in the truck were probably drunk. But that only made them more unpredictable and dangerous.
As the vehicle passed by, a bottle tossed casually from the back landed less than a meter away and broke, splashing the left side of his face and his left eye with vodka. Adam exhaled slowly but didn’t move for several minutes, cursing himself for his lack of vigilance. Here on the Baltic coast, with the sea less than fifty meters away, the noise of the wind and surf made it difficult to hear anything. And he was tired, dog tired, but that was no excuse. The area was crawling with Red Army troops and NKVD agents, hunting down the AK. There was little margin for error.
He waited another minute then stood up slowly and glanced around in the darkness. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the liquid from the left side of his face. He could barely feel the cloth against his skin due to the numbness, a result of the bullet wound that had mangled his left ear and come within a centimeter of ending his life at Raczynski Palace the previous September. He’d also lost most of the hearing in that ear, which was probably why he hadn’t heard the truck until it was almost too late. Another reason to remain vigilant, he thought, cursing again.