“Papa,” Ulrike’s soft voice cut through the tense atmosphere; there was a tremor in it. He twisted around to see Ulrike and Karl’s reaction to her. “Papa, he said it was a mistake. He said—”
“Don’t try my patience. That’s exactly the sort of thing I was talking about,” Karl snarled in response.
Ulrike appeared to accept the logic of this; she made a simple appeal instead. “Please, don’t hurt him. I know what he said was wrong and evil, but he’s been punished already.” She continued, her words sounding sincere, “It’s not really his fault, he can’t help what he is. I think he believed what he told me; he doesn’t know any better. I know it was wrong, but please don’t hurt him any more.”
Karl’s voice lost its edge. Patiently he explained,“He has to learn his place and so do you. We all make mistakes, but we have a duty to learn from them. It’s for his own good, but if it bothers you to see him hurt, just remember that the next time you decide to be foolish. A young German prince had to witness the execution of his best friend because of his own foolish actions. Because he learned from that, he became a great king. So, too, do your actions have consequences for you and for others. Now just sit there quietly and see the results of your folly. It’s the least you can do.”
“It’s all I can do,” she answered, turning her eyes, brimming with tears, toward Peter.
Karl resumed his stance and without further warning swung the cord.
Peter heard the whistle of the cable, gasped in surprise as he felt the sharp, cutting pain. Once he was warned by the shock of the first stroke, he steeled himself to accept the following ones in silence. Initially, he was successful, accepting each lash with barely a sound, but as the beating progressed and new blows fell on old ones, his response became less controlled. His face tightened, his mouth stretched into a grimace, and his throat emitted small noises with each stroke.
At one point, seeking some solace from his agony, he turned his head to look at Ulrike, but she had disappeared. She must have slipped away sometime earlier, abandoning him to his fate. Karl followed his glance and, noting Ulrike’s absence, muttered something, then struck Peter with furious vigor again and again. His determined silence broke into uncontrolled cries of pain; each wave of agony was followed by another so rapidly he could not even catch his breath. He felt his flesh tearing, boiling, burning. He felt a sudden overwhelming nausea and his vision went black with each pound of his heart. He writhed, wildly trying to avoid the blows, his feet, slipped on the accumulated sweat and blood, and hisentire weight fell upon his wrists. He struggled to pull himself back to his feet, but Karl kept flogging him. The blackness of each heartbeat grew longer, the bright flashes of vision grew more and more unfocused, and a dizziness prevented him from being able to work out which way was up. He tried again to stand, then closed his eyes against the pain and let the blackness claim him.
Karl walked over to his victim, placed two fingers on his neck, and found a pulse. Perfect! He could not prevent himself from smiling at his expertise. Firmly holding on to one of Peter’s arms, he unlocked the handcuffs, quickly grabbed the other arm as it dropped, and carefully lowered the body to the floor.
He looked at it for a moment, nudged it with his foot, but there was no movement. Then he washed his hands, put away the cable, and picked up the handcuffs. He ran his thumb along the bloody edge; the metal was cheaply cut and surprisingly sharp. Poorly made, like so much else. He thought about getting a better pair as he pulled out a cigarette. He put the cigarette to his lips, then realizing that he did not have a match, he returned to the body lying on the floor, gingerly reached into a trouser pocket, and found a lighter. Lighting his cigarette, he pocketed the lighter and stood over the lifeless body, smoking quietly. His hands were trembling from the adrenaline rush; he could hardly hold his cigarette still. He was exhausted as well—it had been strenuous work, but it left him feeling fulfilled. He missed the old times: nowadays, it was beneath his dignity to interrogate prisoners directly. What a pity!
There was no reason to remain in the cellar, yet he was loath to leave. He wanted to savor the moment: it had been a long time in coming, too long. He should have done this ages ago, the day he had brought the insolent bastard into the house; that would have prevented a lot of nonsense. But now, now it seemed almost too late.
He felt trapped. Despite his threats, he knew he could never recoup the replacement costs if he traded in Peter’s contract. Who would take such a useless worker? Only industry, and they never paid enough. And he would never be so lucky a second time in extorting a contract out of someone the way he had out of the Reusches. It hadn’t been so bad when he had had a reasonable income stream, but recently he’d been losing his protection rackets to Schindler and others. The bribes had been drying up as well. When he had failed to secure that arms deal, that had been the last straw. His influence was waning, they were all grabbing it away from him; damn, he was nearly destitute, dependent almost entirely on his salary!
Peter groaned and twitched, and Karl thought he might awaken, but there was no further movement. What a disappointment! It wasn’t fair! First those stupid fines, then that woman stealing his money, and now this worthless piece of shit. Always scowling and sneaking around and skiving off. Sarcastic, disrespectful, lazy. Always questioning orders, always mouthing off. Half the time he couldn’t even open the door on time. The worthless shit! Worse than worthless! Feeding that load of rot to Ulrike. What if she had repeated it? God inheaven, she might have been arrested and then the family would have been ruined! All his work, all his effort down the drain, and all because some stupid, worthless servant couldn’t mind his own business! Better if he had tried to sleep with her.
Karl rubbed his head. He had a headache. What was he going to do, what was he going to do? He couldn’t get rid of him, he couldn’t do without—that would look too impoverished—and he couldn’t afford another. He was trapped. He swore and kicked Peter. Damn it! He had to keep him under control, there was no other way. He would have to pay attention to what went on in the house, he’d have to be vigilant and strict. He’d have to bring this one to heel. Zero tolerance. There was no other choice. He’d look like a fool otherwise.
He finished his cigarette and wondered momentarily about where to stub it out. The face? He used to put it in their eyes—the poor buggers never liked that very much. Ah, but he had money invested in this bastard, and besides, he was out cold, he would never even notice. He threw the end on the floor and ground it out with his foot. Then slowly, ponderously, he climbed the steps back to the kitchen.
Elspeth was there. “There wasn’t much noise.”
“No, I’ll give him that much. Get me a cup of coffee.”
“Are you finished?”
“For now.” Karl lit another cigarette. “For now.”
50
“OH!” ADAMGROANED AND dismounted, handing the reins over to the young soldier who had walked them into the camp. “Is there any coffee in this place?”
Zosia laughed and lightly slid to the ground. “Tired, darling?” she teased.
The soldier led the horse away without answering, apparently assuming that such questions and conversations were not for his ears. Adam lit a cigarette and turned to Zosia. “Tired?” he repeated. “You wore me out, woman!”
“Put that thing out!” a voice cried out to them. They turned to see Wanda bearing down on them.
“Oh, it’s you,” Adam greeted her.
She approached and kissed both of them. “Adam!” she chided. “Please, it’s hard enough keeping these kids under control without you flouting the rules.”
“Sorry.” Adam stooped down and ground out the cigarette. “I forgot I was so near the border.” He stood and handed Wanda the extinguished cigarette as if he were a naughty schoolboy. “Will teacher forgive me?”
“Here I am training them to blend into the forest, to meld with the night, and you’re encouraging them to glow in the dark and send up a smelly stream of smoke
!” Wanda laughed. “You’re hopeless!”
“So how’s things?” Zosia asked. “I didn’t realize you’d be down here!”
“Is there any coffee here?” Adam asked.
Wanda threw an arm around each of them and led them off. “Fine and yes,” she answered. “Let’s get the coffee first, then we can talk.”
“So, Adam, what’s your excuse for looking so bedraggled?” Wanda asked as she watched him sip his coffee.
Adam held the coffee in his mouth a moment, letting the warmth penetrate his bones, savoring the taste. “Zosia beats me,” he answered at last. “She’s merciless. Whips me every night. Ah, such agony,” he sighed.
Zosia giggled. “Well, you did sound in pain last night. Sort of like an injured elk. Of course, you came back asking for more this morning, didn’t you?”
“Ah, I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“And again, after breakfast.”
“An absolute masochist,” Adam confirmed.
Wanda raised her eyebrows. “I’m amazed you two have the energy. When I was your age, with the twins, my God, it was all Jurek and I could do to kiss.”
“And how are your boys?” Zosia asked.
“They’re here. That’s why I came down to the border. They’ve got leave from their SS unit, and they’ve managed to sneak in for a visit, but their time is so short that we decided to meet up with them down here to save time.”
“So they’re not coming up to Central?” Adam asked.
“No, they’ve got to get back on duty. The Fatherland awaits!” Wanda joked. “We’re just glad they could make it here at all.”
“Where are they now?” Zosia wondered.
“Out with their dad, taking a walk. He wanted to talk to them, and I had some business to take care of here. There have been more than the usual number of incursions in this region, and I want to work out what the problem is.”
“How is their assignment working out?” Adam asked.
“Oh, the usual. They’re making good progress, but they’re really weary of wearing the uniform, strutting, saluting, shouting ‘Sieg Heil.’ It’s souldestroying, as you know. I keep telling them, it will pay off, but they’re losing patience.”
“At least they have each other,” Zosia commented. “Both in the same unit, aren’t they?”
“Yes. They say all their friends tell them they look like they could be brothers!” Wanda laughed. As she said that, the two young men came into the tent with their father.
“Colonel Firlej! Colonel Król!” they exclaimed in concert. “How good to see you.” First one, then the other bent down to kiss Zosia in greeting.
“Congratulations on your new promotion, Colonel!” Marek said.
“Not so new, anymore,” Wanda pointed out.
“Ah, we’ve been out of touch,” Marek explained to his mother.
“And congratulations on your council seat!” Maciej added, kissing Zosia again.
“Thank you!” Zosia beamed.
“And the biggest congratulations on your new baby!” Marek said as both he and his brother kissed Zosia yet again.
“What is she, three?” Maciej asked.
“Not quite,” Adam answered.
The boys and their father sat down and poured themselves coffee.
“Do three colonels get us a prize?” Jurek asked.
“No, just a lot of bossing around,” Adam quipped. “Especially for you civilians.”
“Eh, I never listen to orders anyway,” Jurek said.
“All the more so since he’s retired,” Wanda added.
“If you want to hear orders, then have I got a song to sing!” Maciej interjected. At that point he and Marek launched into long and hilarious tales of their life among the Nazis. Nobody was fooled, they all knew the stress the boys endured, but despite that, Maciej and Marek painted such a picture of idiocy and lunacy that all of them had tears rolling down their cheeks from laughter. As they finished with their anecdotes, Zosia and Adam brought them up-to-date on news, and Wanda added her own version of recent Council events. The conversation turned from one topic to another and the time passed quickly among the friends until Marek glanced at his watch, nudged his brother, and announced sadly, “I’m afraid we have to go.”
“Yes, if we don’t get back, our carriage will turn into a pumpkin and we’ll be dressed in rags!” Maciej agreed.
Zosia and Adam said their farewells as Wanda and Jurek escorted their sons from the tent. “They’re growing up so fast!” Zosia commented as she watched the family striding across the camp together.“Wanda and Jurek did a great job with them.”
Adam nodded. “Yes, they’re moving up fast. They’ll be a great asset to us, if they can stick it out.”
“They’ll do it. They’ll do just fine.”
The next morning Adam emerged from their tent quite late, stretched, and then looked knowledgeably up at the winter storm clouds gathering. It would be pointless staying another day, and if they hoped to make it back without getting slowed by the weather, they would have to start moving soon. Nevertheless, he decided to wait a few moments. Zosia was nicely tucked up in their tent, snuggled under down comforters, still glowing from their night’s activities, the morning air was crisp and invigorating, and he felt so wonderfully alive. He exhaled a cloud of steam and watched it dissipate in the light breeze. God, life was good! So precious, yet so unappreciated in their world. If only everyone in the Reich could stand in the midst of a pine forest on a mountainside blanketed with snow and look up to the winter sky and breathe in the fresh air of freedom. If only.
His thoughts were interrupted by the figure of Wanda coming toward him. Her face looked strained and as she approached, he asked, “What’s up? What’s wrong?”
She stopped and collected herself as if to speak, but then she threw herself into his arms and hung her head on his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Wanda! What’s the matter?”
“They’re dead,” she sobbed. “They’re both dead!”
“Dead? Who? What?” Adam asked helplessly.
“Maciej, Marek. My boys,” she wailed.
“What happened? What happened!” Adam begged to know. He continued to hold her and stroked her hair as she cried on his shoulder.
Eventually, she brought her sobs under control enough to explain. “Somebody shot them in the street. They were walking to the train station, it was late, dark. They were in their uniforms, of course. Their SS uniforms. Somebody shot them. A terrorist,” Wanda groaned.
“Not ours!” Adam asked, horrified.“Not one of ours?”
Wanda looked up at him then, her face red and swollen, her cheeks wet with her tears. “Would it matter who the hell it was?” she asked fiercely.
“Wanda, was it a cock-up? Did we assassinate them?”
She shook her head. “No. It was just terrorism. Some splinter group or disgruntled individual saw the uniforms and took retaliation into their own hands. Just violence,” she moaned. “Just random anti-Nazi violence.” She blinked hard and looked up at the sky.“My boys are dead and all you care about is whether it was a flaw in our system. Rest assured, Colonel, it wasn’t that, it was just a flaw in our whole goddamned world!”
“Oh, Wanda, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just so shocking. I’m sorry, it was unforgivable. Please, come into the tent, please, come talk with us. Where’s Jurek?”
“He went for a walk in the woods. After all the details filtered in, he asked to spend some time alone. I—I came over here to tell you, and all you cared about was who the murderers were.”
“Please, forgive me. Come inside. We should tell Zosia,” Adam begged, pulling her gently toward the tent.
Ferociously, Wanda pushed him away. “No, you tell her! Tell her some fool is bragging about his exploit, his courage in killing two SS swine. Tell her how we all encouraged them to go back and wear those stupid uniforms! Tell her how it wasn’t the fault of the AK. Tell her it was just s
omeone fed up with the occupation! Tell her what a heroic deed it was! Tell her my boys are dead!”
“Wanda,” Adam pleaded.
“You professional killers! You and your wife! You never think about the world you create with your glib murders! With your judicial executions! The world is bathed in hatred and violence, and you go off and kill to make it right again, don’t you? The brave assassins of the AK carrying out justice in an unjust world!Didn’t you ever think that you leave behind a host of young wanna-bes? Kids with guns and knives who want to emulate you and get a few of those damn Nazis!”
“Wanda, it’s not like that!”
“It is like that and my boys are dead because of it! They paid for someone else’s crime, don’t you understand?”
“Wanda, we try and keep them under control, you know that. You know we can’t stop the violence. It’s been too many years of murder in our land, we’re overwhelmed! Please, don’t blame us, don’t blame yourself! Lay the blame where it belongs!”
“It belongs at your feet, Colonel,” Wanda spat. “Just like Julia’s death.”
Adam took a deep breath. “Out of respect for your grief, I won’t respond to that.” His voice had dropped almost to a whisper. “You know it is not our method, has never been our method, to kill randomly or to accept the idea of hostages. For decades we have seen our own innocent people killed in retaliation for the actions of others, and we have never, not once, given in to that strategy. That someone else has, is not our fault. You should know better than that, and even in your grief you should be ashamed of yourself.”
Wanda opened her mouth to say something, but then she closed it again and tears streamed silently down her cheeks. She came back toward Adam and looked up into his face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry.” She turned and walked away.
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