Chapter 7
Closing In
October 1940
Warsaw, Poland
Klaus sat on the sofa of the downstairs parlor, his hands sifting through the documents. He set the paperwork aside for a moment as Briggita brought him a tray of tea and some cookies. She’d made the baked goods from scratch. He smiled at her, showing his appreciation. She was so thoughtful.
She stepped away and he carefully lifted the kettle, tipping the rich auburn liquid into the saucer. He held his breath, concentrating, watching the surface of the tea rising until it was a centimeter from the brim. He set the kettle down and took up the sugar, measuring out a teaspoon. He carefully scraped off the top of the spoon, assuring an exact measure. He turned the fine white grains into the liquid and then poured an equal amount of cream. He stirred the contents slowly in full revolutions, counting to twenty. He set the spoon down and lifted the saucer, taking a sip. He breathed in satisfaction. It was perfect.
“What are you working on?” Briggita asked.
“Just some paperwork,” he muttered absently.
“Can’t you put it aside? We want to spend some time with you, don’t we, Anna?”
“Ja, Vater,” said Anna, looking up from a large oriental rug where she was playing with a doll. “Come and play with me.”
He took another sip of his tea and laughed, setting the documents aside. “Fine. I surrender.” He rolled off the sofa and landed on the floor hard. “Ouch,” he grimaced, “I’m getting too old for this kind of thing.”
Briggita laughed. “Nonsense. You’re in better shape than most of the younger men you work with. Look at Peter.”
“Mountains don’t count,” he responded.
“Truly. Though, Klaus, I’m worried about him. He’s bigger each time I see him.”
“He’ll be fine.” Klaus made a show of rubbing his chin, as if considering the matter further. “But perhaps you’re right. I know,” he said finally, considering the matter. “Peter should requalify for his sports badges.”
“That would serve him right,” laughed Briggita.
“Daddy, you’re not paying attention to me,” protested Anna. “Come and have tea with Hannah and me.”
“Oh, it’s teatime is it? Well, let me get the tray then.”
“Not real tea!” she shouted, rolling over onto her knees and picking her doll Hannah off the carpet. “Pretend.”
The phone rang. “What is it now?” Briggita said.
“Please answer it,” said Klaus.
“Do I have to? Can’t we have one evening to ourselves?”
“I would love that, my dear, and we will soon, I promise. It’s just this city and this war. There are a million details and so much left undone.”
“But it’s been more than a year.”
“I thought we’d be finished by now, but it’s like a string hanging off a carpet, the more I pull, the more fabric becomes undone.”
Briggita answered the phone. “It’s Peter,” she said, holding the phone out. She refused to look at him.
Klaus pulled himself to his knees and then rose. He felt the soreness in his joints. I am getting too old for this. He took the receiver. “Ja, Peter.”
He listened for a few minutes, asking questions, and he hung up. He turned to Anna. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I have to leave for a little while.”
“But, Daddy, you promised you would have tea with Hannah and me!”
His heart fell. He hated to disappoint his little girl. He saw the sadness in Briggita too. This job was too much on them. He was gone most nights until they went to bed, and often he’d left in the morning before they arose. He made a mental note to request some leave. A few weeks off would fix everything. Of course, that would have to wait a few months at least. They would have more work soon, not less.
“Goodbye, my love,” he said to Briggita. She still looked away, her head giving him the slightest of nods. He turned and walked out of the house. He would have to worry about his home life later. Duty called.
* * *
“Where are we headed?” asked Klaus, squinting through the windshield into the night.
“Ludwicki Street,” answered Peter.
“Are you sure we have the right address?”
“I double-checked it.”
“And the evidence?” asked Klaus.
“I’ve looked it over and over. I missed some of the details the first time through. The fabrications are very subtle.”
“You’re certain then?”
“Without any question.”
“So be it.” Klaus pulled out his penlight and reviewed the list in his folder. He read the names of the two social workers they already had in custody, along with half a dozen other government workers they’d arrested on the same day. “Any progress on the questioning?”
“Yes, sir,” nodded Peter. “Some solid information, particularly from Stanislaw.”
“What about Wojciech? He seemed weak.”
“Dead,” said Peter.
“What do you mean dead?”
“Our interrogator was a little too enthusiastic with his questioning. He caved in his chest with an iron bar. Collapsed both lungs. They filled with liquid and that was the end.”
“I’m not happy with that,” said Klaus. “There was no order terminating his life.”
“That’s a formality,” chuckled Peter. “Before or after, you know they’ll sign the warrant.”
“That’s sloppy and it’s against the rules,” said Klaus. “I want that interrogator pulled off the team.”
“Why, sir? He’s one of our best.”
“He broke the rules,” said Klaus. “I won’t have it. Replace him. Tomorrow.”
“Very well.”
Klaus reviewed the list. “I want two more days of questioning, then they are to be shot. After a warrant is produced.”
“All of them?”
Klaus thought about the question. “No, leave Stanislaw. But not intact. I want the message to get back to that department.”
“I think they’ll understand things pretty well by the time we’re done,” said Peter.
“They need to. We have much bigger things coming up.” Klaus thought for a second. “I’m not sure a few bruises will suffice. Take a hand. His writing one.”
Peter nodded. “That should get their attention. On to bigger issues: When are we starting?”
“Tomorrow.”
“So soon? I don’t want more work right now. Did I tell you about Zotia, my newest conquest?”
Klaus shook his head. “When are you going to settle down and start a family?”
“I don’t need a family,” responded Peter. “I have yours.”
“Briggita’s worried about you.”
“Why?”
“She’s noticed you’ve gained weight.”
Peter laughed. “Is that all?”
“I’m worried too. You’re way past regulation.”
“They wouldn’t touch me with you in charge.”
“That’s not the only issue. It’s not good for you. I’m ordering you on a diet, starting tomorrow. No desserts, no second servings, and most of all, no alcohol.”
“But sir—”
“No arguments. Thirty days. I want your uniform fitting by Christmas. The original one you brought to Poland. In three months, you will retake your physical qualification tests. And you will pass them. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.” Peter grew quiet.
Klaus smiled to himself. His assistant needed to be reined in now and again. He would have to keep a close watch on him; Peter lacked the discipline to stick to the requirements by himself and would cheat outrageously if Klaus didn’t prod him on. He would secure the services of this new girlfriend as a spy. A few zlotys and some cigarettes should do it. If he broke the rules, which he inevitably would, Klaus would confront him, both assuring he kept on his program and continuing the myth of Klaus’s omniscience.
“Are we almost there?” Klaus asked.
“Just about, it should be just around the corner. Damned rain.”
Klaus strained his eyes in the darkness. The wipers were barely keeping up with the downpour and spread grease across the windshield. The rubber made a horrid squeaking noise as it went. “Get those wipers replaced tomorrow as well, Peter. These should have been tested during the dry season.”
“I’m sure I did, sir.”
Klaus was sure he hadn’t. “Is that it?” he asked, pointing at a building ahead to the right.
“I think so, although they all look the same to me.”
Klaus pressed his face against the passenger window, trying to make out the numbers above the door. He checked his file. This was the right place. He nodded to Peter. The giant turned off the vehicle and reached for the door, but Klaus stopped him. “I’ll handle this one alone.”
“But, sir, I’m supposed to—”
“That’s an order.”
“Very well.”
Klaus stepped out of the vehicle and moved toward the doorway. He thought about the soreness he’d felt rolling to the ground earlier. He couldn’t afford to get soft. He would handle this arrest alone. Besides, there was little real danger here . . .
He made his way upstairs to the second floor of the building. He removed his penlight on the way up the stairs, checking the file again to make sure he had the correct apartment. He made it to the second floor and walked about halfway down the corridor. He stood outside the door for a few moments. There were voices inside. He drew his Walther 9mm and checked the ammunition, flicking the safety off. He knocked sharply.