The Children's War (57 page)

“The Flying University, and anyone associated with it, is part of the Underground. That’s security!” the officer hissed.

“I know, sir. They just think it’s a local arrest of a local resident and it should be their feather.”

The officer nodded his head toward Adam. “Get him out of here. I don’t want those yokels storming in here trying to take him back.”

“Where to, sir?”

“Kattowitz. The main lockup will do. Have them handle his interrogation.”

The ride to Kattowitz was long and uncomfortable. Adam watched the sunrise through the side window of the car and wondered if he had been missed yet. His first appointment wasn’t until nine, and it was unlikely anyone would even know anything had happened to him. It was all moving so fast!

They arrived at the prison and checked him through the front desk. He hoped he would be taken to a cell and left alone for a while, but they marched past the cells and descended the stairs into the unwindowed depths. As he stumbled tiredly down the steps, he began to pray.

He was taken to a room and left to stand. He paced nervously, kicking at the dirt on the floor with his bare feet, scanning the paltry furniture: an old desk shoved up against the wall, two chairs, one in each corner, a broomstick lying abandoned on the floor. About twenty minutes later a weary lieutenant showed up. He held in his hand a single sheet of paper, which he perused with an illtempered impatience as he stood in front of Adam.“No papers, huh?”

“No, I had papers. They were kept by the police.”

“A teacher, in the Underground, eh?”

“No, I’m not a teacher. It’s a mistake.”

“Fine, have it your way.” The lieutenant shrugged. “Take care of him,” he said to the three guards who stood near the door. “I don’t care how.” He walked toward the door.

“Wait!” Adam called after him.

“What? Are you in the Underground?”

Adam bit his lower lip.

“I want names, I want information.”

“I don’t have anything. I’m a textile worker. This is all a mistake,” Adam pleaded.

“Don’t waste my time,” the lieutenant said, and left, leaving Adam alone with the three guards.

57

“Z
OSIA, CAN
I
HAVE
a word with you?” Marysia asked from the doorway of Zosia’s flat.

“Sure, come on in!” Zosia replied, intent on spreading the glue for Joanna’s
cutout doll evenly. Her tongue played along the edges of her lips as she concentrated on the delicate task.

Joanna sat hunched over the pile of colorful paper and scraps on the floor, indicating, with foremanlike accuracy, exactly where her mother should put the glue.“No, not there!” she wailed suddenly. “Her eyes will be funny there!”

Zosia looked up at Marysia to share her exasperation. It was then that she noticed Marysia had not come in nor had she smiled. Zosia shoved the bottle of glue at Joanna. “Put it wherever you want, honey.” Zosia stood up. “I want to talk with your grandmother a minute.”

Joanna nodded absently, unconcerned.

“What is it?” Zosia whispered once she was in the hallway.

“Adam’s missing,” Marysia stated dryly. “We think he was arrested.”

“Arrested? How? By whom? When?”

Marysia made a calming motion. “He didn’t make an appointment this morning. They’ve checked with his landlady, and she is fairly certain he’s been out all night.”

“Did he teach his class last night?”

“Yes. After that he was supposed to vet a new student; they were to meet in a cafó. He had been cleared, but we’ve learned that yesterday afternoon his brother was picked up on an unrelated charge. We’re afraid he may have told his brother about his meeting with an Underground teacher and that his brother may have betrayed that information to the police.”

“What about the student?”

“Missing. He may have either accidentally betrayed Adam or was coerced into it to save his brother.”

Zosia closed her eyes as she listened, willing herself not to hate blabbermouths who were proud of their University affiliations. “What’s being done?”

“We’re sending out inquiries from his alleged place of work, asking what’s happened to him. We also have someone digging into the files at the local police station today.”

“Anyone see him last night?”

“No, none of our people were on that shift in that section of the police building. We used to have five plants but we lost two, so we’re temporarily down to three there. We also have someone digging into the files at local security and at security headquarters in Krakau, but so far, they haven’t found anything.”

“What about the cafó?”

“We’ve dug up one witness so far; he said local police took away a worker with blond hair. The young fellow he had been talking to walked off with another policeman shortly afterwards.”

“Contingency plans?”

“Tadek, Romek, and Konrad are already in uniform and en route to the city. They’ll wait there for information and the appropriate papers to spring him,
once we find him. They will also liaise with some local talent in case they need to take more direct action.”

“It will take hours for them to get there,” Zosia said, pulling worriedly at her thumbnail. “Don’t we have anyone on-site who could do the job?”

Marysia looked pensive. “Yes and no. As far as anyone in town knows, they’ve grabbed a local teacher. Worrisome, but not of overriding concern. We don’t want to blow Adam’s cover to all and sundry if we don’t have to. We’re assuming he can hold out a few hours, but if it turns out that the situation merits desperate action, we’ll inform our people and they’ll do the job from there. Our betting, however, is Tadek and crew will be on-site before it’s even feasible to do anything.”

Zosia nodded. “What about a ransom?”

“We’d like to avoid that. They don’t know who Adam is, and if we tell them, they might release him on exchange; on the other hand, they might decide he has too much information to lose. Currently we’re not in a good position with negotiations, we don’t have much to offer in the way of hostages, and if they then decide to keep Adam, knowing who he is and what he knows, well. . . .”

Zosia swallowed hard and nodded again. “You said Tadek has already left?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll meet up with them there.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Don’t be stupid, I have to be there. I might be of use!”

“You are to stay here and take care of Joanna. She can’t afford to have both her parents at risk.”

“I won’t be at risk!”

“I’m sorry, Zosia. Orders.”

“Orders? The Council hasn’t even met!”

“Colonel, you are ordered to stay put,” Marysia stated carefully. “And don’t give me that look, because you are not going to get around this. You will not be allowed to leave, and if you try, you will be locked in this room, do you understand?”

Zosia glanced back at Joanna as she sat, humming a little song to herself, on the floor of the flat. “All right. I’m sure—”

“Excuse me,” a young soldier interrupted Zosia. “This just came in.” The soldier handed Marysia a message and left.

Marysia read the message, then smiled at Zosia. “Good news, one of our people-has located his documents in the local police station there; they still think he’s just a teacher for the Underground university. We should have no trouble pulling him out with orders from Gestapo headquarters. After all, the Underground is not a matter for local police.”

Zosia sighed. “Thank God.”

“Go tend to Joanna, honey, it’s the best thing for you to do right now.”

“Okay.” Zosia returned to Joanna’s side and, sitting on the floor with her, picked up a pair of scissors and a piece of colorful paper and began cutting out a bird. It would be an eagle, she decided, the emblem of their country, and she and Joanna would draw in the details and paint it in beautiful colors and present it to Adam upon his return. As she worked, she muttered quietly, like a prayer, “Adam, Adam, Adam.”

Tadek, Romek, and Konrad marched into the local police station with their impressive array of uniforms and surly looks and slammed the orders down on the front desk. “We were told you are holding one of our prisoners here!” Tadek rumbled.

The clerk gingerly picked up the papers and looked through them. After a few minutes he made his excuses and went to check the files. After about ten minutes he returned with a prisoner list, looking baffled. “I’m sorry, sirs, there’s no such prisoner on our list.”

“He was arrested last night. Check that list,” Tadek ordered.

The clerk shook his head. “This is last night’s list. Shall I check this morning’s?”

Tadek glanced worriedly at his colleagues, then said, “Yes, check this morning’s, check yesterday’s. Just find him!”

It took more than an hour of arguing, vague threats, and waiting to find out that Adam truly was not listed as a prisoner in the jail. In exasperation, Tadek finally demanded a personal tour of the prison so that he could see each and every prisoner personally.

That caused a raised eyebrow, and the officer with whom they were now dealingasked politely, “And how will you recognize a man you’ve never met?”

Tadek hesitated, then answered, “His wanted poster. He’s wanted on several other petty counts of acts against the state.”

“I’m sorry,
Herr Major,
but I cannot accede to that request. We have—”

“Mein Herr?”
a young policeman intervened.

“What do you want?”

“I think I know what happened to this prisoner.”

“So he was here?” Tadek asked.

“Oh, yes,
mein Herr,
but he was transferred almost immediately.”

“Transferred? Why? To whom?” Tadek asked.

“To your people,
Herr Major.
Security was here last night.”

The officer smiled. “Ah, it seems you need to do a little housecleaning yourself,
Herr Major.
Your own people are so eager to take our prizes. Maybe if they spent their time tracking down terrorists rather than shadowing our movements, you wouldn’t have these problems.”

“Shall I call your office for you,
Herr Major?”
the young policeman volunteered.

Tadek shook his head vigorously. “No, no. I’ll sort this out personally. My apologies.” He motioned to his men and left the building quickly, before any further questions could be raised.

58

A
DAM OPENED HIS EYES
as far as he could and looked up at the gray ceiling above him. Every part of his body was screaming with pain. He had often helped edit the reports of human rights abuses that were regularly sent overseas to the American Congress, and he thought with grim humor that now, at last, he could add his own eyewitness account. That thing with the desk drawer . . . He reached impulsively toward his battered groin, but changed his mind and let his arm rest on his stomach. His tongue probed his mouth and discovered four teeth missing, all on the right side. Shit, teeth were a nuisance. Still, they could be repaired, he’d be able to pop them out and terrorize his grandchildren with them. His tongue probed the left side of his mouth and located the one false tooth on that side. It was still intact. Though he had no intention of using it, it was nevertheless reassuring to know a fatal dose of poison was waiting for him if he needed it.

He closed his eyes and worked at memorizing every feature of the faces of the men who had beaten him. The officers would probably not be too difficult, but the three anonymous brutes in that room—they might require some work. Nevertheless, with duty rosters and vigilance, he was sure that someday he would track each of them down and exact an appropriate revenge. They would pay, of that he was sure.

He shuddered a sigh and tried to rest and regain his strength. It would be easiest for their people if he were able to walk out on his own two feet. He should get up and try walking around, he thought, but before he could follow through, the door opened and a grinning young officer appeared.

“Good day, Herr Teacher! Are you ready for another lesson?” Even as he spoke, two guards came into the room and began lifting Adam from his cot.

“What? Wait!” Adam’s voice came out strangely and blood trickled from his mouth as he spoke.

“Wait? Why?” the officer asked.

“I haven’t . . . Isn’t this a bit quick? You haven’t let me think at all! I’ve just woken up! How can . . . It’s not usual procedure. Give me some time!”

The officer motioned with his head toward the door, and the two men dutifully began dragging Adam out.

“What’s the rush? I’ve just been . . . They’ve just . . . Give me time!”

“Herr Teacher, you are not enthusiastic about having another lesson?”

“No, please wait!” Adam pleaded. “Let the pain argue with me for a few hours, please! Oh, God, just a few hours!”

They continued to pull and drag him down the hall. They ended up in an office, and Adam was momentarily reassured. They dropped him unceremoniously into a chair in front of a desk, and a few moments later the same lieutenant he had seen before came into the room and sat behind the desk. He was eating a
Brötchen
with slices of cheese and ham shoved in between. Adam stared at the food, but he did not bother to say anything.

“Hungry, teacher?” the lieutenant asked.

“I’m not a teacher.”

The lieutenant continued eating his sandwich while shuffling through some papers on his desk. Finally Adam felt driven to ask, “Could I have some water?”

The lieutenant looked up from his papers. “Are you in the Underground?”

“No,” Adam sighed.“No.”

The lieutenant sighed and went back to his papers. After he had finished his sandwich and his shuffling, he looked up again. “Are you a teacher in the Underground university?”

Adam shook his head.

The lieutenant looked to the guards, who had seated themselves by the wall. “I’m not in the mood for this nonsense. Take him out of here and beat some sense into him.”

The guards approached and began to lift Adam from his chair.

“Wait! Wait!” Adam gasped.

“Are you in the Underground?” the lieutenant asked.

Adam stared at the floor. Quietly he admitted, “Yes, I work in the textile factory during the day and I teach courses in the Underground university at night.”

The lieutenant nodded. “Good, then tell me all about it.”

Adam did. He told the lieutenant names and some addresses, he mentioned meeting locations and contacts, he described in detail the structure of the university and tried to digress on the content of his courses but was preempted. Nothing he said was true, not a word of it, but it did mean that he managed to kill two hours without being hit.

When they reached the end of his inventiveness, the lieutenant handed him a single sheet of paper. “Sign this.”

Adam glanced at the terse admission of guilt to a capital crime and dutifully put a signature at the bottom.

The lieutenant collected the sheet of paper, tossed it onto a stack of papers, and said to the guards, “Get rid of him.”

Adam sighed his relief. They would take him back to his cell, and he would wait there either until they discovered that everything he had said was false or until his trial. In either case, it gave his comrades some time to track him down. It would be difficult, he knew, since he had been separated from his papers and
had been moved out of town, but there was a good chance his comrades would locate him and he would be freed.

He was taken to a windowless room deep in the bowels of the building. Adam scanned the room and felt a terror grow in him. There was no bed, no sink, nothing to indicate it was a cell. Something like a metal coatrack stood incongruously in the center of the room, and in the corner was a table with various objects—a crowbar, a rubber truncheon, some unidentifiable gadgets.

Panicked, Adam turned to his guards. “I’ve confessed, I’ve told you everything!”

The larger of the guards smiled.“We know, so now we have no more use for you.”

As they chained his hands and feet to the coatrack, he argued with them, he pleaded to go back and tell the lieutenant more details, he offered bribes, so finally they forced a gag into his mouth.

They used the crowbar and began with the rack upright, but when the force of their blows caused it to tumble, they let him crash to the ground and continued beating him on the floor.

He lost all sense of time, and it was with the distance of a dreamer that he perceived they had suddenly stopped. He concentrated through the screaming agony and recognized the voice of the lieutenant.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You said get rid of him,” a guard replied sheepishly.

“You idiots! I meant put him back in the cell.”

“But, sir, policy is we’re allowed to practice on condemned convicts.”

“Not anymore, you dolts! We recycle them. He’d be a strong worker—we need laborers! We have a quota to meet and you just trashed a candidate!”

The lieutenant walked over to where Adam lay on the floor and looked down at him. “Oh, God in heaven!” he spat in disgust. He stooped down and touched Adam’s face. “You’ve broken his jaw! What if I wanted to get more information out of him?” He then felt the bloody pulp of Adam’s legs. “Legs broken, arms smashed. What the hell are we supposed to do with this mess?”

He stood up and returned to berating the guards, promising dire consequences for their foolishness, and then suddenly he said, “Unchain him, put him in his cell. I’ll get a doctor to look at him, and then I’ve got to work out what to do with him.”

Adam was released from the coatrack and carried back to his cell. He was laid rather gently on his cot and left alone. As he lay there, he looked up at the window and saw it was still daylight: not even twenty-four hours had passed since they had arrested him. He replayed the lieutenant’s words about him and wondered if they were true. Though he was numb now, the pain had been such that he supposed his bones had been crushed. That would take some undoing, he thought angrily. Such a waste, such a goddamned waste. What purpose did all the destructiveness serve? Such a waste! Now he would have to spend months, maybe years, recuperating. They’d have to smuggle him out to America, he’d
have to undergo reconstructive surgery on his legs, on his arms, on his face. How would they get him out of the country? he wondered. His mind ran through several scenarios, then he thought about where they might get all the money that would be necessary. If he was going to spend that long in America, Zosia and Joanna should come with him. It would be nice having them there; it would be a good experience for Joanna to see what a normal society was like. Yes, she could gain something from it, and perhaps learn some English as well. That would be good for her future. He imagined her as an adult, giving a report to the American Congress in flawless English. He’d sit next to her, backing her up with facts and perhaps recounting that time, long in the past, when he had fallen into the hands of the Gestapo.

He blinked his eyes to clear the red tears that were filling them. He thought about his little girl and about his mother and about his beautiful wife. They would be so happy to see him, they would help him through that difficult recovery period. He imagined his mother putting a straw in his mouth so he could drink some soup; he felt Zosia steadying him as he learned how to walk again; he saw Joanna encouraging him with her bright smile.

His eyes wanted to close, but he fought the urge. He was afraid of sleep; the little death was more than that to him. As he lay there he heard music, and after a moment he recognized the waltz played at his wedding. The words had seemed innocent then.
Za rok, za dzien, za chwile, razem nie beódzie nas . . .
A year, a day, a moment for you and me, then together we’ll no longer be . . .

He tried to speak but his jaw was too shattered to move the way he wanted it to. Nevertheless, he managed to whisper through the blood that filled his mouth, “Zosia . . . Zosia . . . Zosia.” He looked back up at the sky, at the blue sky that they would be looking at today as well. The blue turned red as he looked at it, and then the red darkened to black.