“Your family owns this cottage?”
Natalia nodded. The four of them had rehearsed the cover story many times. “Our father used it occasionally with some of his friends—for hunting and fishing.”
“And your family is there now, in the cottage?”
“No, just my brother and I, and two cousins. Our parents were both killed during the Rising.”
“How convenient. And the documents proving your family’s ownership of this cottage?”
“I assume they’re on file at my parent’s bank in Warsaw.”
“A bank which is now destroyed, of course.” The agent exchanged a few words with his comrade, who still gripped the handlebars of Natalia’s bicycle. “You will both have to come with us until we get this cleared up,” he said.
“Come with you?” Natalia asked. Her heart pounded so loudly she was surprised the agent couldn’t hear it. “Where?”
“That is not your concern. Trespassing is a serious offense.”
Suddenly Rabbit lunged toward the agent and rammed his bicycle hard into the man’s groin.
The stunned agent doubled over and dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Rabbit jumped on the bicycle and pedaled hard toward the forest.
The trooper let go of Natalia’s handlebars, pulled a pistol from the holster on his belt and spun around, taking aim at the escaping boy.
It all happened in an instant, but it was just the diversion Natalia needed. She pulled the Browning from her jacket pocket and fired into the back of the trooper’s head before he could get off a shot.
The NKVD agent stared wide-eyed at the trooper, who collapsed to the ground with a gaping hole in his forehead. But he recovered in an instant. He struggled to stand up, reaching inside his suit coat for his gun.
He wasn’t fast enough.
Natalia pointed the Browning at him and shot him in the stomach.
The agent stumbled backward then fell to his knees, gazing down at the widening circle of blood on his white shirt. He mumbled something as blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and tried to raise the pistol in his right hand.
Natalia took three quick steps and kicked the gun out of his hand.
He looked up at her with glassy eyes, his mouth opening and closing, producing only a raspy wheeze.
The blood from his wound was pooling on the ground, and Natalia was amazed he was still on his knees. She grabbed him by the hair, jerked his head back and thrust the barrel of the Browning into his mouth. She leaned close and whispered. “This is for my brother, you son of a bitch.” Then she pulled the trigger.
Natalia stood for a moment staring down at the two dead men, wondering if either of them had actually been among the murderers at the Katyn Forest five years ago. She decided it didn’t matter. They were NKVD. That was close enough. She retrieved her identification card and took both of their pistols before jumping back on her bicycle and pedaling quickly into the forest after Rabbit.
“We can’t stay here,” Zeeka said, pacing back and forth in the cottage’s living area a few hours later. “We should get out now, while we have the chance.”
Hammer glanced at his watch. It was a little after seven o’clock. “The sun will set in about a half hour,” he said. “If they haven’t come by now, they certainly won’t attempt to find this place in the dark.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Zeeka said. “With two of their agents shot to death, the NKVD will be swarming over this entire area like flies on a manure pile.” She looked at Natalia and held up her hand. “I know, I know, you had no choice. Getting in their automobile would’ve been a death sentence.”
“You’re damn right,” Hammer growled. “We should take out these Bolshevik bastards every chance we get. Besides, I’m certain the villagers had both bodies buried in the forest and the auto hidden away before Rabbit and Natalia got back here.”
Zeeka glared at the big man with her hands on her hips. “And when those two agents don’t report in at the end of the day? Then what? Do you suppose their superiors are just going to go home and have their dinner?”
Hammer grabbed his rifle from the corner near the wood-box. “You two decide what to do. I’ll go help Rabbit keep a lookout.”
After Hammer left, Natalia propped her elbows on the table. A wave of guilt washed over her. “Goddamn it, I feel terrible for those villagers. Hammer is right; I’m sure they got rid of the bodies and the auto. But we know what the NKVD is like. Sooner or later they’ll show up in that village, and they’ll find out what happened one way or the other.”
Zeeka pulled up a chair and sat down facing her. “And when those poor folks have a gun pointed at their heads and their daughters are about to be raped, they’re going to lead them right here.”
Natalia slumped back in the chair. “Christ, what a mess.”
“Look, what’s done is done. If I’d been in your shoes I’d have shot those sons-of-bitches too. But right now we have to decide where to go. I don’t think we should even wait until morning. We should move out now. The AK cell in Zyrardow has a safe house. We could hide out with them for a day or two until we sort things out.”
“If we leave right after dark we should get there before dawn,” Natalia agreed. “And they have a wireless. They can send out an alert.”
Twenty-Nine
ALMOST A WEEK had passed since the brief, unproductive meeting with General Kovalenko, and Adam was restless. Colonel Meinerz had given up after three days of waiting for Kovalenko’s office to return his calls and had joined the rest of the team in Dachau, leaving Adam alone. Before he left he had instructed Adam to stay in Berlin and work through General Parks’ staff to gain access to Sachsenhausen, but after several days of bureaucratic inaction Adam was going stir-crazy.
New American officers had arrived and taken up lodging in the former Nazi’s mansion. They were friendly enough, but spent little time there except for meals. Unlike himself, Adam assumed they had real jobs to do. The meals were another thing—heavy, gravy-laden schnitzels with dumplings and spaetzel, all prepared by Frau Hetzler from the incredible supply of food that kept arriving on U.S. Army trucks. It had been years since Adam had eaten this well, and his stomach was rebelling.
So this evening he passed up dinner, took an apple from the pantry and went out for a walk. The weather had warmed during this third week of May, and it was still light when he returned a little after eight to find a group of American officers playing bridge on the terrace. He was chatting with them when Frau Hetzler announced that he had a telephone call. Adam followed her into the house and made his way to the foyer near the front door where a silver-plated telephone stood on an ornate, inlaid-wood table. He picked up the receiver. “This is Adam Nowak.”
There was a pause, then a gruff voice said, “Kovalenko.”
Adam flinched. He had given up on hearing from the general’s office and certainly from Kovalenko himself. He took a deep breath before responding, “Good evening, General. It’s good to hear from you.”
“Have you had dinner?”
Adam consulted his watch. It was eight thirty and he wasn’t hungry. “No, I have not.”
“Come to the Adlon Hotel.” There was a click, and the line went dead.
Adam slowly placed the receiver back in the cradle. Dinner with Kovalenko? The Adlon Hotel was in the Russian sector. Should he go alone? Meinerz and the rest of the team were in Dachau. He wondered if Kovalenko knew that.
After pondering the bizarre situation a few minutes longer, Adam borrowed a Jeep from the group of Americans and drove to the Kommandatura where a Red Army officer stood next to a Russian GAZ-11 with a Soviet flag mounted on the right front fender. It was the same officer from the meeting outside Warsaw eight months earlier, the one with the scarred face and black eye patch. Adam climbed into the GAZ-11, and the officer settled behind the wheel.