The Children's War (87 page)

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he said, emboldened by her candor, “but you seem to speak German with an accent. Weren’t you raised using it?”

Kasia laughed. “No. I wasn’t raised like Ryszard or Zosia. I was raised among the general populace—as a Pole. I joined the Home Army and worked my way into an office as a secretary. I didn’t know it, but they were prepping me to work as Ryszard’s secretary. So, naturally, we spent time together and got to know each other quite well. When he asked me out, I assumed it was my duty to go, and despite the fact I thought he was one of them, I liked him. I guess he liked me, too, because rather than have my bosses tell me who he was, he did so himself. He asked me to what he called ‘a conference,’ and my AK bosses said I should go—I guess they had gotten word from above—so I went and that’s when Ryszard showed me his home and who he was.”

“That must have been quite a surprise.”

“You can’t imagine, I was flabbergasted! I mean, I had heard about the place, everyone has, but to be taken inside like that! Of course, we only met his parents, and I had no idea where we were, but still, I felt so honored. Anyway, we fell in love and wanted to marry. Since he had a government position, it was decided I should become
Volksdeutsch
and we could marry officially and my job would be to support him in his career.” She paused, then added quietly,“My parents never forgave me for turning traitor.”

“Your parents don’t know then, what you’re doing?”

“No, unfortunately none of my family does. Some of them are in the Home Army, but none are in the Intelligence Section, nor are they at the level where they could be told.” She looked to the side so he could not see her expression as she said, “It’s not really even safe for me to visit them, I am so loathed. So you see, I am totally alone.” Her voice took on a note of sadness as she added,“An outsider.”

He felt guilty at the thought of what his own virulent reaction would have been to Kasia’s apparent betrayal. Had he unjustly condemned his own brother in the same manner? “You have Ryszard’s family,” he consoled.

“They have each other,” she said with some bitterness. “They have that strange background that makes them unfathomable to us petty mortals. Even my children are ciphers to me. No, like you, I am an outsider and always will be.”

She finished her tea, then said, “I’ve got to get up early, so I had better go to bed. But it’s been pleasant chatting with you.”

“Yes, thanks for keeping me company.”

“Sleep peacefully.”

He got up, poured himself a full glass of whiskey, and then sat back down in the darkness to stay awake.

16

“A
RE YOU SURE
you want me to do this now?” Stefi asked, glancing nervously around the cafó. “I can postpone our meeting.”

“Don’t do that! You said his being in Göringstadt was a great opportunity. I don’t want you to miss it because of me,” Olek urged. “I’ll just wait here.”

“You won’t try to follow us, will you?” Stefi asked worriedly.

Olek shook his head. “I would never interfere with your work. I promise.”

“Okay then. Time to go.” She stood and Olek stood with her to help her into her coat. She smiled at him. “It will only be a couple of hours. Three at the most.”

“I know.” He kissed her lightly. “Don’t worry, I understand.”

Stefi left the cafó and strolled across the street to the hotel, entering through the door that led into the restaurant. She paused at the entrance to look out the window back in the direction of the cafó; she could just make out the form of a man standing by the window, looking out into the street, but she could not discern if it was Olek. She smiled at the shadow and then turned to the maÓtre d’.

When she gave him the name of her dinner partner, he led her through the restaurant and into a hallway of the hotel. “Your husband ordered room service,
gnädige Frau,”
he informed her with a half smile.“He’s in room one-twenty-five. Do you need someone to show you the way?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Then Stefi suavely pulled out a note and handed it to him and, using her most confident, married-woman sort of voice, thanked him for his assistance.

Wolf-Dietrich laughed when she told him this. “What a waste of money!” he grumbled cheerfully. “Now he’ll know we aren’t married!”

“I know. It’s just that his know-it-all assumptions annoyed me.”

“You would have been better off saying, ‘Room service!’ That cheap little miser!” Wolf-Dietrich laughed.

“So where is the food?” Stefi asked, glancing around.

“Didn’t order any. Are you hungry?”

“How about some wine.” Stefi slipped her shoes off and sat on the bed.

“Good idea. Can’t really afford anything great though.” Wolf-Dietrich picked up the telephone and tapped the button. “I’ve blown all my cash on this room!”

“Is it that expensive?” Stefi arranged some pillows and then lay back on them languorously.

“It is when you’re as badly paid as I am.” The operator answered and Wolf-Dietrich placed his order for the wine.

Once he had finished, Stefi asked, “Ah, so how is work?”

“You know I’m not supposed to talk about that.”

“That’s like saying you’re not supposed to talk about your life,” Stefi groused. She reached up under her skirt and began to undo the fasteners of her stockings. “I mean, who’s silly rule is that anyway?”

“Rattenhuber’s,” Wolf-Dietrich answered, his eyes intent on her legs.

“Who’s he?”

“Oh, he’s handling the petty details for the project. Overall organization, security, and so on.” He stared as Stefi began to roll the stockings down.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Stefi asked innocently. “They’re rather itchy.”

“No, not at all.”

She finished removing the second stocking and relaxed back onto the pillows. “Is he any good at it?” She dangled one of her stockings playfully in the air.

“He thinks so. I don’t get to do anything. He does everything himself.” Wolf-Dietrich sat timidly on the edge of the bed. “Takes the information in, ‘encodes’ it in some magical way, and distributes it to the staff when he’s good and ready. I’m told he even set up the network for sending coded documents from one place to the other, but my father is too old-fashioned to trust that.”

“Wise man. Those things are full of holes. ‘Every official has some way of getting his hands on codes,’ ” Stefi quoted in an appropriately gruff fatherly voice.

Wolf-Dietrich laughed, then corrected, “Oh, no, I mean he set up a completely separate network with its own codes and everything, but my father still won’t trust it.”

“What’s he do instead?”

“He lets trivial stuff go out via the network, but anything he thinks is important has to be hand-carried. That’s why I’m here, in fact. I’m a courier. It’s the one job ol’ Ratti trusts me to do.”

“If he’s such a big shot, why does he have to do everything himself?” Stefi tossed the stocking at Wolf-Dietrich and giggled as it landed on his head.

He blushed, removed the stocking, and gingerly laid it back on the bed. “I don’t know, maybe he doesn’t trust me. He must know that I have to report everything he does back to my father.”

“Well, since you’re not allowed to do anything, you must have plenty of time for visitors?” Stefi asked winningly, leaning forward and stretching toward Wolf-Dietrich.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be talking about this,” Wolf-Dietrich suggested nervously.

“Good idea,” Stefi huffed, pulling back suddenly. “Instead, you can tell me why you got us a room with a bed. I thought we were having a nice dinner.”

“You said you wanted privacy!” Wolf-Dietrich protested. “Said you just wanted to talk!”

“With a bed in the room?” Stefi asked, lightly offended. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing! Really! It’s just hard to get privacy without a bed!” Wolf-Dietrich explained sheepishly. “Nobody offers rooms without beds. I didn’t mean to offend you . . .”

“Didn’t mean?” Stefi repeated as she angrily grabbed for her stockings. “Didn’t mean? First you get us a bedroom, then you say you can’t talk about anything!”

“I misunderstood, I’m sorry. I thought, I mean, it seemed to be what you asked for.”

Stefi began pulling her stockings on, struggling as she was too angry to do it right. “What I asked for was a chance to get to know you better! So you do all this ‘can’t talk’ stuff, like I was some sort of blabbermouth farmer’s daughter. Look here, my father’s important, too! You can just go and keep your secrets to yourself, if they’re so damn valuable!”

“They’re not valuable,” Wolf-Dietrich pleaded. “It’s just that . . .”

Stefi stopped her befuddled attempts at putting on her stockings. “Just that what?”

“Oh . . .” Wolf-Dietrich stared at her. She had raised one leg to pull on her stocking, and from where he sat he could see the smooth curves of her upper thigh. “Oh, it’s just that they’re so hush-hush about it all, I feel, I don’t know. It’s so stupid.”

“What are you talking about?” Stefi asked, suddenly quite sympathetic. She let her stocking drop to the floor and slid over to sit next to him.

“It’s this stupid project of my father’s, the one I mentioned before.”

“I thought it was the Führer’s idea.” Stefi grabbed Wolf-Dietrich’s hand in hers and then let their clasped hands settle on her lap.

“Not really. I mean, he knows about it, but it’s really my father’s project. I think the Führer is interested in it only if it works, if you know what I mean.”

“Covering himself from political fallout, eh?” Stefi absently stroked his hand, turning it over so his palm rested on her are thigh.

“Yeah, so everything has to be carried out by just a few people, in a sort of deniable way.”

“What do you mean?” She leaned in toward him so that he could speak more confidentially. Her hair brushed against his cheek and she heard him sigh.

“I mean”—Wolf-Dietrich’s fingers traced a light pattern on her skin—“I mean, like none of the work actually takes place at the military installation— everything is in the main house, the place where ol’ Ratti himself lives. Big mansion, beautiful.”

“Really? That sounds sort of creepy.” She shuddered and pressed herself against him, her hand reaching out to the solidity and comfort of his chest.

“He’s converted half the cellar into his office for the files, and then there’s an annex of offices and things. It’s really weird because it’s not supposed to be there—all the soldiers just think it’s just the normal sort of junk about running the place. You know, orders for food, fuel, that sort of stuff. That’s one of the reasons I’m there—to keep an eye on things. I mean, he has the house patrolled, but it’s sort of casual—you know, so that no one gets wind of the project.”

“But how can they do something this big with just a couple of offices?” Stefi asked as she playfully began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“Oh, they don’t do any of the testing there. The field tests are conducted elsewhere, usually under the guise of something else. My father has overseen some in and around Berlin, he’s got a colleague in Breslau doing some stuff, and there’s one or two other places.”

“What do they do?” Stefi’s hand slid inside his shirt and she felt how he shivered at her touch.

“I don’t know. Test farm animals, I think. They got some tame chemists in labs at the university. I don’t know,” Wolf-Dietrich answered absently. He continued to trace patterns with his fingers on her thigh, but now his hand slid along, edging its way upward. “Your skin is very soft,” he whispered.

“I know some people in Breslau, who’s the guy working there?”

Wolf-Dietrich turned to look directly at her. “I don’t know,” he said with a hint of suspicion.

Stefi shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t suppose my father is in on all this, do you think?”

Wolf-Dietrich shrugged; his hand had stopped moving.

“But you still haven’t told me what you do.” Stefi pouted, turning toward him so that his hand slid down between her legs. “Enough of all these cloak-anddagger types, what’s been happening in your life?”

“You know,” Wolf-Dietrich said, cocking his head to the side, “I don’t know a thing about you.”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Stefi answered with a smile. “Maybe I’ll even show you,” she added, reaching up to her blouse and undoing a button.