The Children's War

by Stroyar, J. N.

  “Now, Captain, why exactly are you here? You demanded to be heard by us first thing, and we have accommodated you. So?” Wojciech asked without patience.

  Marysia glanced at Wojciech, clearly annoyed by his preempting her.

  “I have important information to give you. Very important.” Peter paced coolly in front of the assembled Council.

  “And?” Marysia prompted, reasserting her authority.

  “And I want something in return.”

  “What is your information?” Hania asked.

  Before he could answer, Zosia came nearly breathless into the room. The front of her blouse was soaked with milk, and in her arms she held Irena tight against her breast as the baby nursed greedily. Zosia looked sweaty, tired, and irritable, as if her organized plans for peacefully feeding Irena had been hopelessly disrupted. When she saw Peter, a thousand miles from where he was supposed to be, she stopped dead and looked questioningly for an explanation.

  “We don’t know either,” Marysia answered Zosia’s look. “He just showed up last night and demanded to be heard by us today.”

  Zosia turned toward him. “What’s going on? How did you get here?”

  “I just walked in,” he answered her last question first as he walked over and kissed her hello. He stroked Irena’s head, marveling at how much she had grown. She looked so much more engaged in the world around her, as if, he thought bemusedly, someone had thrown a switch and her personality had turned on. Even as she sucked at Zosia’s breast, her eyes turned upward to stare at him and wonder at the presence of this stranger. He felt his heart breaking with regret at the months they had lost, and he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and teach her to know him, but all that would have to wait just a little longer. “I wasgoing to tell you all about it last night,” he added, “but you were out. Now you can hear it with everyone else.”

  Zosia’s eyes widened slightly with worry or a warning, but he winked at her and she decided to settle in and listen. As she sat down, he poured her a glass of water, remembering what she had said about thirst and nursing, and then walked back to the center of the floor to face the Council.

  “What is your information?” Hania repeated.

  “I have in my possession the completed biochemical formulae for the sterility program which was abandoned after my visit to America. The information I have is proof of deep espionage within the American security agencies, a crippling embarrassment for a key political enemy of our most senior infiltrator, and useful blackmail of the Americans to force them into greater cooperation and trust. Not only that, but this information will be crucial in preventing the institution of any such program or in counteracting it, if it is instituted. My presentation of this information to you instead of Warszawa will also enhance your own political viability.”

  There was a murmur of surprise. Konrad was the first to overcome his astonishment, and ignoring Peter’s strange presentation, he said, “Good work. Hand everything over and we’ll see that it is treated appropriately.”

  “No.”

  There was a stunned silence at the bald refusal, and the Council members glared at him in confusion. Zosia adjusted Irena and sipped her water. Finally Tomek ventured, “Captain Halifax, what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, I’m not handing over anything until I get exactly what I want.”

  “You’re blackmailing us?” Wojciech asked. “You do realize you could be court-martialed!”

  “ ‘Dealing with you’ might be more appropriate,” Peter responded. “And if you court-martial me, you’ll get absolutely nothing.”

  “But this is . . . You should pass it on to us immediately!” Wanda protested.

  “When I get what I want.”

  “You got your life from us! That was enough, that’s more than many people have. My sons . . . Now it’s time to repay your debt!”

  “I’ve already paid enough for something which should always have been mine!” Peter retorted. “Now I’ll choose who gets my information. I’ll give it to whomever shows as much loyalty to me as I have shown to them. Perhaps the English, perhaps an independent group. Perhaps the Communists.”

  “Peter!” Marysia could not contain herself. “How dare you treat us in this manner!”

  “Oh, give it a rest. I’m fed up with being shunted around as if I were valueless. I’m proving my value, and I’m not going to let this opportunity go to waste. If you want diplomacy, rewrite the minutes, because I’m not going to waste our valuable time fucking around.”

  “What are your demands?” Tadek asked in his usual cool manner.

  “First, that I am reassigned here. Immediately and permanently. No outside assignments that I don’t personally approve. And by personally, I mean me, not my wife.”

  “We’ll take that under consideration,” Marysia intoned.

  “You’ll agree to it now, or there is no point in my proceeding.” They looked at each other, took a silent vote of nods, and agreed.

  “We’ll have to arrange something with your persona; it’s not good to let them drop off the face of the earth like that,” Hania commented. She held primary responsibility for the organization of the various identities used by their agents.

  “Jäger is officially in London,” Peter explained.“He can commit suicide at the beach at our convenience. Barbara already has some local talent lined up to replace him. She has a personal commitment to the lad and hence to London; so, not only will that solve your perpetual problem of finding someone to take that job, but you’ll have an automatic link with the English Underground. Better than using me as a liaison since he’s currently a member.”

  “Fine. We can untangle things later.”

  “What else?” Marysia prompted.

  “I want access to the entire installation, especially Communications and anything which needs a security expert. I want free right of entry and exit to this place.”

  “That’s impossible!”

  “Let me make it possible. All I ask for is the rights of access that my wife has. Simple equality,” Peter amended with a smile. Zosia had, as far as he knew, no limits on her rights, but if there were any, he would accept those as well.

  “You exceed our patience!” Wanda glowered.

  “Fuck your patience. I want your word!”

  “Peter, you really are asking a lot,” Marysia said in an obvious attempt to be conciliatory.

  “I’m offering a lot in return. I could argue for these things, but you all know my record and you know my loyalty; these concessions are long overdue. Certain, uh, circumstances may have caused me to be treated as an honored spouse rather than an active member, but it’s time that changes.”

  Zosia lowered her head, obviously embarrassed, or maybe just intent on Irena.

  “All right,” Marysia conceded. “If we grant that request, is that all?”

  “No.” He grinned.

  “What else?” Tomek asked, incredulous.

  “I want some sort of arrangements made to assist the Zwangsarbeiter. I want information disseminated to them, and I want there to be some way for escapees to seek assistance and transport to safe havens—something like the Americans’ Underground Railroad.”

  There were several sputters at the near impossibility of that request, but Marysia was undeterred. Into the dismayed grunting of the various Councilmembers she spoke. “I’ve been considering something along those lines for some time and have been in communication with the other Councils about it. You raised enough money in America that I think we can arrange a budget for you, if you are willing to take responsibility for organizing this so-called Underground Railroad.”

  “I’ll do that,” Peter agreed, pleased by Marysia’s support.

  “Indeed,” Marysia added, glancing at the Council, “I’ve just learned that an anonymous American donor has promised us a substantial sum, but only if we get Peter’s approval for how it is used.” She looked back at Peter. “It seems you have a friend.”

  Peter tho
ught of the guitar back in the room and nodded. Whatever gift she had sent though, there was nothing more valuable to him than her words, I cried for days.

  “Now, is that all?” Marysia asked.

  “No, I also want a promotion to colonel and a seat on the Council. Both permanent, and well advertised so that there is no reneging on your part.”

  “What!” Wanda screeched.

  “You can’t be serious!” Bogdan stormed. “This is too much!” Wojciech protested.

  Into the objections Peter inserted, “I’ll accept the portfolios for dealing with the Americans, secure communications, and liaising with the English, among others. I can also work on negotiations, if you want, since I am already wellknown to the Germans and they to me.”

  “You do presume!” Wanda complained.

  “Who do you think you are?” Tomek asked. The comments flew about Peter’s head, some positive, some not. He noticed that the naysayers, though in the minority, were the loudest. He let them rant, remaining calm and quiet. Then, with her free hand, Zosia slid off her shoe and slammed it onto the table. The ensuing silence was deafening.

  “He deserves it,” she said simply. “He knows more about security than any of us, he has foreign experience beyond any of us, he certainly understands the English better than any of us could hope to”—this last she said with something bordering on dismay—“he knows the Germans and has lived among them, and he also handled the Americans marvelously—they know and trust him. And his loyalty is beyond reproach!”

  “He hasn’t been here long enough,” Wanda objected.

  “He doesn’t know us! ” Wojciech griped.

  “He isn’t fluent in our language yet,” Tomek moaned.

  “Fluency isn’t necessary,” Zosia responded as she played a game of tugoffinger with Irena.

  “He’s not sponsored by a political party,” Tadek noted rather pragmatically.

  “He can join as an independent,” Konrad suggested. “After all, we all know that’s a farce.”

  “He doesn’t meet the criteria,” Wanda finally wailed.

  Marysia nodded. “He meets all the formal criteria—what little there are. Besides, it might do us some good to get some new blood into this executive.”

  As the Council members continued their arguments, Peter felt that he had been excluded yet again. “Your arguments are irrelevant,” he said undiplomatically into the fray. “You have no choice. You want what I have and I’m not giving it to you without a permanent seat.”

  “How would you trust us not to throw you off the Council as soon as we get what we want?” Tadek asked.

  “I’ll trust your word. You are people of honor, if not sensitivity.”

  “Very well,” Tadek agreed, “you’ll take our word. But if you get this seat, there will be too many from the same family—it’s beginning to look like a royal family.”

  “Nonsense,” Peter replied. “I am not related to any of you here. I am an outsider, as some of you have made abundantly clear on many an occasion. As for my marriage—my wife and I have divergent views on many issues and will not be in collusion or have a block vote.”

  “Besides,” Marysia sighed, “it was worse when Adam was on the committee and nobody objected then.”

  “Have it your way.” Tadek shrugged.

  “Better yet,” Zosia said, “give him my seat. I’m resigning.”

  “What!” the cry came from all sides.

  “I’ve had enough. I’m cutting back on my workload so I can spend time with my family. If I resign now, there will be no charge of nepotism, and it is not unusual to award a vacant seat to a spouse so we can forgo the usual nonsense.”

  “That’s usually for vacancies created by death,” Tadek pointed out.

  Zosia shrugged. “A vacancy is a vacancy.”

  “Zosiu,” Peter whispered. He knew what her position meant to her. Was she acting the martyr to embarrass him into retracting his demands?

  Zosia slipped her shoe back on and stood up. Gently she inserted a finger in Irena’s mouth and detached her from the nipple. The baby seemed happy to suck her finger, obviously sated. Zosia handed the baby to Tadek, who, Peter noticed, took hold of her expertly. Then Zosia said, “Why don’t you all discuss the merits of my suggestion while I have a private chat with my husband in the corridor?” She buttoned her blouse as she circled around the table, then looped her arm in Peter’s and led him out the door.

  70

  ONCE THEY WERE OUT IN THE HALLWAY and the door was closed behind them, Zosia asked quietly, “Why did you do that to me? Why didn’t you warn me?”

  When have you ever warned me? Peter was tempted to say, but something in Zosia’s tone sounded quite different, so instead he explained, “Given what you wrote in your message to me in London, I thought it better if you weren’t involved, and this was the easiest way to do that. I just thought I’d show up and fill you in, but you weren’t here last night.”

  “Makes sense.” Zosia hardly seemed concerned and he suspected the question had been rhetorical.

  “Now, what’s this about you quitting?”

  “I’ve read the letters you wrote,” she said as if in reply.

  “Oh.”

  “And your mother’s diaries. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, I had hoped you would. When did you ever find the time?” he asked, surprised by the sudden changes in priorities.

  “I made time. I’ve made time to do the things you used to do for us.” She smiled wanly. “It gave me a sense of their value.”

  He nodded but did not speak. She clearly had something more to say.

  She bit her lip as if trying to decide something, then whispered, “And I’ve seen the tape of Joanna’s murder.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I . . . You were very brave. I had no idea. I . . .” She was crying and he pulled her toward him. As she sobbed into his chest, he heard her mumble what sounded like an “I’m sorry.”

  He held her for a while, stroking her hair, hugging her to him, trying to steady her trembling frame. His questions about where and when and how were forgotten, and when she had calmed down a bit, he impetuously asked instead, “Do you want me to withdraw my demands? I mean, other than my coming back here?” As he said the words, he realized that he was making the same mistake he always made, making offers he did not really want to make; offerings that, if accepted, would cause him to resent her.

  She shook her head. “No. I do think you deserve a seat. And I really do think it’s time for me to retire, or at least take a sabbatical. I was going to discuss it with you before suggesting it to the Council.”

  “Oh, Zosiu! You love your work!”

  “It has taken control of me, I need to get away from it. At least for a while.”

  “You’re not just doing this for me?”

  She shook her head. She seemed profoundly sad.

  “What is it, Zosiu? This place has been running your life since birth, why quit now?”

  She swallowed hard, turned away from him, and leaned back against him so that he could hold her, but could not see her expression. He stroked her beautiful hair and waited. After a moment she spoke, so low he could barely hear her. “I think Joanna didn’t run away because I told her to watch out for you.”

  He stiffened. He did not trust himself to say anything so he remained silent.

  “If they”—Zosia jerked her head toward the Council room—“had not been so worried about you and if I hadn’t felt so loyal to my work, I don’t think I would have said that.”

  “So you said watch rather than watch out for? ” he asked as gently as he could manage.

  “No. She would have never understood the idea of watching you, but she did understand that you might need help. I told her to take care of you, and especially, not to leave your side.”

  “It’s not your fault that you were concerned about me. Or that she was.” Nor did Zosia’s confession relieve his guilt for not having told Joanna to run away. She
would have listened to him, no matter what her mother had said.

  “No, but I used her concern for you to assuage their concerns about you. So that you could go into town unescorted, I said Joanna would let us know if you did anything suspicious, and then I had a little chat with her about how important it was for her to stay with you at all times and . . .”

  “And?”

  “And to tell me everything you did.”

  “Everything we did,” he repeated numbly.

  “Yeah. I made it sound like I didn’t want to miss out on the fun,” Zosia moaned.

  “Why did you do that? Didn’t you trust me?”

  “Yes! But I was being torn this way and that. My worries about your wellbeing on the one hand, their concerns on the other . . .”

  “Their paranoia doesn’t make sense, not after all the time I spent alone in America.”

  “You were watched anytime you weren’t with one of us or someone we had vetted. The phone in the hotel was tapped, too. The one time you noticed someone, that was a bodyguard I had asked for. You never spotted the surveillance.”

  “Charming,” he muttered. “Too bad they didn’t bother to notice that photographer who got my picture with Joanna.”

  “Clearly their efforts were misdirected,” Zosia agreed bitterly. “But you were with us then, so they probably weren’t watching.”

  “God, I feel like a fool.”

  “It’s not your fault, dear. They have extremely subtle techniques.”

  “How could I not have noticed?”

  “They controlled your schedule and had direct access to your luggage andhotel room. I guess, most of the time you were wearing a device, and since they weren’t actually trying to protect you, they could keep their distance. Your complete trust in them, in us, and lack of suspicion certainly helped.”

  Peter felt so disgusted he had an urge to push Zosia away from him. She was right, he had never inspected his clothing or his luggage or his room. He had not listened for any telltale signs of tapping on the telephone. He had trusted them. “They’re sick,” he finally said.

  “No, darling, just worried. Security had a lot of difficulty with my father’s suggestion; that’s one reason he threw it out to the crowd the way he did. The only way he got permission to get you there was to accept these constraints.”