“Good morning, Herr Teacher, did you sleep well?”
“I’m not a teacher,” Adam responded, rubbing his eyes to wake himself. He had only been resting, and he knew that barely more than an hour had passed. He had heard the shift change at midnight, and the man who spoke to him now was apparently the replacement for the one who had arrested him.
“Come with me, we have some questions for you,” the policeman stated as he began to open the lock.
“Oh, can’t it wait until morning?”
The policeman opened the cell door and waited in silence. Adam rose and reluctantly followed him as he led the way down the hallway of the prison.
“Ah, Herr Teacher, welcome to our humble prison!” the lieutenant greeted him as he was led into a small, windowless room. He followed Adam’s gaze and gestured broadly. “Not as grand as your university, Herr Professor Doktor, but we do our best to accommodate our students here. Sit down, sit down!”
“I’m not a teacher,” Adam stated mordantly as he sat in the chair the lieutenant had indicated. Besides the chair there was only one other chair and a low table in the room. The lieutenant seated himself on the edge of the table, right in front of Adam.
“No, of course not!” The lieutenant grinned. “Today you’re a student, my student, and I have some exam questions to set before you.”
“Can’t this wait until morning?”
The lieutenant shook his head and clucked his tongue. “That’s not a very enthusiastic attitude! But, no, I’m afraid I’m on the night shift, and tonight, so are you! By morning, I’ll be going home to my good wife and a good breakfast of sausage and eggs and you . . . Well, we’ll see.” The lieutenant lit himself a cigarette and then offered Adam one. When Adam accepted, the lieutenant lit the cigarette for him. “Now, let’s get this over quickly. Tell me everything you know, like a good student.”
“I don’t know anything, I’m not a teacher.”
“The boy said you were.”
“He was scared, he’d say anything.”
“Why were you talking to him?”
“I thought I could buy some fruit through him. I wanted to impress a girl.”
“Fruit? An apple from the teacher?”
“I’m not a teacher.”
“Never mind that, we’ll get back to your lies later. Just tell me about yourself. As long as you keep talking, my friend there”—the lieutenant pointed toward the corner and a guard holding a rubber truncheon—“won’t have to hit you. If you stop, I’m afraid he will.”
Adam glanced at the guard; it was an age-old technique and the reason why he had memorized an entire lifetime of details for his cover story. It would, in any case, kill time, but he had to be careful not to let the story come out too pat. “I don’t know where to begin,” he stuttered, then hearing the guard approach, he said hurriedly, “There’s this girl, at the factory. She’s real pretty, you wouldn’t believe . . .”
Two hours later he was still talking, explaining the details of the equipment he worked with. “Enough of that,” his interrogator said suddenly. “Tell me about your family.”
Adam paused for breath. He heard the guard with the truncheon approach. Quickly he said, “Could I have a cup of tea?”
The interrogator cocked his head as if thinking about the request, then he nodded toward the guard. “Go get him some.”
Adam talked about his family as he sipped the tea. So far so good, he thought, though he was not particularly reassured by their show of civility. It was not unusual for an interrogation to begin gently and decay into sadism.
“Is that when you decided to become a teacher for the Underground?” the interrogator asked suddenly.
“I told you, I’m not a teacher.”
The interrogator sprang off the table and slammed the cup of tea out of Adam’s hand. “Enough of your lies!”
Adam sputtered, wiping his face with his arm. “It’s not a lie.”
“I don’t like liars!” the interrogator said as he gestured for the guard with the truncheon to come forward. “Show him.”
The guard raised the truncheon, but before he could swing it they were interrupted by an orderly at the door. “Mein Herr!” he hissed. “A visitor!”
That was quick, Adam thought, wondering at the same time how he came to be missed so quickly. Maybe somebody had spotted his arrest taking place. He glanced behind himself to see the visitor and was surprised that he did not recognize the SS officer who strode into the room.
“You’re overstepping your authority by interrogating this prisoner,” the officerasserted as he handed a sheaf of documents to the interrogator. “We’re taking him into our custody.”
“It was our arrest, we have the right to—”
“He’s coming with us.” The officer gestured to Adam to stand. Adam obeyed and followed him out of the room, leaving his interrogator and the guard behind. In the hall they were joined by two other SS men, and together they marched to the entrance. Once they were outside, they stopped and handcuffed Adam’s wrists behind his back.
“Is this really necessary?” Adam asked.
In response one of the guards shoved him down the short flight of steps. Adam stumbled to the bottom, struggling not to fall. Once he had regained his balance, he looked up angrily at his rescuers. What the hell were they playing at? They shoved him into a car and drove a short distance to another building, which he recognized as the local SS divisional office. As they pulled him out of the car and into the building, he swore quietly under his breath.
“So tell me,” the young officer asked, “why were you without papers?” He sat on the edge of his desk and surveyed Adam.
“I had papers!” Adam replied angrily. “I told the front desk that!” His hands were still bound behind him, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Then where are they?”
“I don’t know. Apparently your friends at the police station kept them.” The officer looked over at his subordinate, who then volunteered, “We’re having-someone check on it. They claimed he came in without papers.”
“They have my belt and my shoes as well,” Adam pointed out.
The officer walked over to his subordinate. “Do you know what they’re up to?” he asked in a low voice.
“I think they’re upset we grabbed their prisoner,” the subordinate answered quietly.
“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
“ZOSIA, CAN IHAVE 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’scutout 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.
<
br /> “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
ADAM 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.
The Children's War Page 48