Free The Katyn Order by Douglas W. Jacobson Page A

Besides, the woman would’ve died anyway.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean we can’t try!”
    â€œYou were doing what you had to do. Except that pistol you carry around in your pocket probably wouldn’t have stopped the tank.”
    Natalia felt her face flush. She let go of the pistol and removed her hand from her pocket. “Well, thank you anyway.”
    â€œYou were part of the Minerki team?”
    â€œYes, I was.”
    â€œThat was good work.”
    She nodded, but a shiver ran down her spine as the images flashed back: German soldiers leaping from the tower, dark silhouettes against the flames.
    â€œThey go away eventually,” he said. “The memories . . . they eventually go away if you put them out of your mind.”
    â€œIs that what you do?”
    â€œYes, I do.” He seemed to be studying her uniform jacket. “They call you the Conductor?”
    Natalia brushed some of the dust from the jacket, though it was a futile gesture after weeks of fighting in the streets. “That’s what I was, before all this started. I worked the run from Krakow to Warsaw.”
    â€œSo, you’re from Krakow?”
    â€œNot originally. I’m from a small village in eastern Poland, but I moved to Krakow when I got the job on the railway.”
    They stood in silence for a moment, the quiet broken only by sporadic laughter from the pub and the constant echo of artillery shelling in the distance. Wolf was thin and wiry, and standing in the shadowy moonlight, Natalia thought he looked far less formidable than he had that day in the hospital square. “They say you’re an American,” she said, though the instant she said it she knew he probably wouldn’t tell her if he was.
    â€œDo I sound like an American?” His Polish was without any trace of accent, but cultured and refined, like he’d been raised in the city. “No, you don’t. Do you live here, in Warsaw?” He shook his head.
    â€œThen I’ll bet you’re also from Krakow. You were, let’s see . . . a banker, perhaps?”
    He laughed but stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. “A banker? Good Lord, I couldn’t stand to be around all that money. I’d probably steal it.”
    He seemed a bit restless. Natalia had the impression that he wanted to talk but was uncomfortable about it, as though he wasn’t used to being around people. “So, if you’re not a banker, then . . . a doctor?”
    â€œNo, not even close.”
    â€œA schoolteacher?”
    â€œYou ask a lot of questions.”
    â€œI know. It’s my worst quality. I guess I’m just naturally curious. So,
are
you a schoolteacher?”
    â€œIf I were, what would I teach?”
    â€œWell, now we’re getting someplace. Let’s see . . . maybe, economics?”
    â€œEconomics? Banking? What is it with you and money?”
    Now they both laughed. “I have no idea,” she said, catching her breath, “I’ve certainly never had—”
    The door of the pub banged open, and Falcon lurched out, followed by Pierre and another commando, who stumbled into him when he stopped abruptly. Falcon swayed back and forth, clutching a bottle in his hand and staring at Natalia. “There ya . . . there y’are,” he slurred and took a wobbly step closer.
    Natalia pointed at the door. “Go back inside,” she snapped.
    Pierre grabbed Falcon’s arm and tried to pull him back into the pub. “You heard the lady. Let’s go.”
    Falcon pushed him away. “Get the fuck off me!” The bottle dropped from Falcon’s hand and shattered on the cobblestones. He stood upright, shot a quick glance at Wolf, then glared at Natalia. “What the hell . . . what’s . . . going on?”
    â€œGet him out of here,” Natalia said sharply to Pierre.
    Falcon grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.
    She jerked away. “Goddamn