“Over 99 percent of Austrians voted for the Anschluss with Germany,” said Viktor in amazement.
“Abrienda says you can’t get that many Austrians to vote for free Wiener schnitzel every Sunday.” Nika said. She lit a cigar and looked out the window. “You’re not suggesting the election was rigged, are you, Agent Molnar?”
“I’m not ‘suggesting’ anything,” Nika replied.
Viktor poured Nika and himself a brandy. “What do you know about the occult?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Nika replied.
Viktor nodded. “Nor I. But as you have discovered in our chosen trade, it can prove valuable to collect information on things we don’t believe in so long as others do. I have it on good authority Hitler and his henchmen, or maybe I should say, acolytes, believe in the occult, applying its principles when making decisions.”
He paused, as if allowing time for this somewhat unconventional notion to sink in before continuing.
“Among occultists, to move clockwise is part of the creative process, perpetuating the present order and maintaining internal harmony. To move ante-clockwise is to destroy that order and thereby obliterate harmony.”
Viktor dramatically raised his right hand to the side of his head, made a fist, and began counting with his thumb and fingers.
“One. Hitler invades the Rhineland. Two. Anschluss with Austria. Three…” “Sudetenland,” Nika replied.
“An anti-clockwise circle, drawn within Europe, with Germany at the center. The question is whether the Czechs are willing to fight for their independence or not. I think you can find this out for me.”
“You don’t think they will?” Nika asked.
Viktor slowly shook his head. “During the war, your father and I used to refer to our Czech regiments by the unflattering sobriquet ‘Hands Uppers’, as in the 3rd ‘Hands Uppers’ Regiment, 57th ‘Hands Uppers’ Regiment, and so on. On the Italian front, they once tried to surrender en masse.” Viktor lit a cigarette. “Surrender to the Italians? That was adding insult to our injury.”
Viktor suddenly changed the subject. “What a stroke of genius it was for me to bring someone like you into our little family. How could foresee one day that you’d be sleeping with one of our future enemies? I also see from your report how you have added Count Ciano to your ever-growing list of non-coital romantic conquests, including, it seems, the American military attaché in Brussels.”
“What are you talking about?”
Viktor withdrew a slim folder from his desk. “‘Whom’, not ‘what’, unless there are two men named Buttrell Dawson serving as military attachés in the American Embassy in Brussels and have written books on the Battle of Waterloo.”
He handed the folder to Nika, and she again saw the boyish, smiling face of the man who likely saved her life in France. She looked through the scant information the folder and handed it back.
“Yes… and?”
“Nothing, at least not yet,” Viktor replied and put the folder back in his file cabinet. “Save it appears you have the invaluable gift for a spy of being in the wrong places at the right times. Could be useful in case we ever decide to go to war with Belgium. Care to join me for lunch?” “No,” Nika replied.
“You should. You look exhausted.”
Nika shook her head. “Two months hunting for someone in the wilds of Ruthenia would exhaust a saint. Try never to send me there again.”
“I only apply the best tools to solve problems of state. How you managed to eliminate the right-hand man and ‘military expert’ of Ruthenia’s titular leader when no one else could even find him is a feat worthy of an instruction manual.”
“Finding the man wasn’t difficult,” Nika answered dismissively. “He had many enemies, and as Count Ciano once told me, some men enjoy being indiscreet in front of women. What’s truly a mystery to me is why anyone would want Ruthenia in the first place. It makes our most backward village look like Paris. Now, what do I have to do to get you to send me back to Prague for a long while?”
Viktor began writing orders.
“I know this will upset you, but you are returning to Prague tomorrow to keep me from being wrong. Your own little Madame Butterfly is close to the only man unquestionably willing and able to lead Czechoslovakia into war against Germany regardless of what Britain or France want. I am rewarding you for the success of your last project by allowing you to combine business with pleasure. Be sure you take Prince Potemkin along with you.”
“I will,” Nika said as she rose to leave. “And Prince Potemkin was Polish, not Russian.”
“Thanks for the update,” Viktor replied. “By the way, how do you intend to reconcile your love life with the imminent destruction of the country of your narrow-eyed amoureux we are trying so fervently to bring about?”
“I’ll write you a report,” Nika answered and left to find Sergei.
Viktor took lunch in his office. He preferred to read while he ate and returned to the newspaper he shared with Nika. Called the Völkischer Beobachter, page five featured a story praising a band of Hitler Youth in Saxony accompanied by a photo of the boys marching under giant flags bearing a black swastika in the center of a white circle. Within the circles the swastikas rotated anti-clockwise.
Abrienda found nothing encouraging in the newspapers the cafe provided her to read. The leader of the Sudetenland Germans, Konrad Henlein, issued a set of eight non-negotiable demands to Czechoslovakia’s President Edward Beneš, and on May 1, thousands of followers filled the town square in the northern town of Liberec showing the stiff-arm “Hitler salute”. This was shortly followed by information from the British military attaché in Berlin that Germany had concentrated twelve divisions in Saxony close to the Czech border. Prague responded by initiating partial mobilization on May 21 and the Sudeten Germans responded by refusing to report, fleeing to Germany or into the forests where they formed bands of Freikorps armed with weapons smuggled across the border by orders from Berlin.
In late June, Beneš conducted an about face, accepting all eight of Heinlein’s demands without any sort of quid pro quo. The Sudeten Germans celebrated by tearing down border markers, replacing Czechoslovak flags with the black-red-black banner of the Sudeten nationalists and looting Czech and Jewish-owned businesses. Czech police and customs officials were kidnapped and later found murdered by the side of the road.
Sudetenland was not the only trouble spot. The Slovaks were agitating for autonomy, Poland was demanded the surrender of the region known as Czech Silesia as punishment for Czechoslovakia’s pro-Russian policies over the past twenty years, and Poland’s ally Hungary pressed for the return of lands along the Danube taken from it two decades ago.
Worse than all of these, she had not seen nor heard from Nika since late February.
Returning home an hour later, Abrienda heard the telephone ringing inside. Frantic, she opened the door, ran to the phone and picked up the receiver.
It was dead.
“Motherfucker!” she screamed and slammed down the receiver. Then, fearing she had broken it, picked it up and finding she hadn’t gently placed it back in the cradle. She went into her bedroom and opened the top drawer of the dresser when the phone rang again. She composed herself, waited for the phone to ring again and when it did ran to it and grabbed the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Gooday, Abrienda. This is Bohm. I hope I’m not disturbed you. I’m calling to ask if you might stop by this afternoon, say two o’clock? It is very important that you do so but would rather tell you why after you arrive.”
Abrienda started to beg off, then thought better of it. Anything was better than waiting for a visit or phone call she started bitterly to think would never come.
She felt like walking so took a cab to Slavia’s, had coffee, then walked up Narodni Street to Bohm’s shop.
“Servus!” Bohm said when she arrived. “I must tell you, the purchase you made for your delightful Hungarian friend has paid my expenses for the entire year. I hope she enjoyed it.”
“I am sure she never lets it out of her sight.” Abrienda replied. “Frederic, why am I here?”
“My apologies.” Bohm took off his spectacles, rubbed his eyes, locked the door and placed the “Closed” sign in the window.
“You have no reason to know this, but a new assistant military attaché took up duties at the German Embassy last week.”
“It seems you have a reason to know it,” Abrienda observed.
“There is a very good chance of war with Germany. Should that happen, it could lead to another European war or, God forbid, world war. I am a citizen of this country and loyal to it, but when Bohemia was part of Austro-Hungary, I served in army intelligence. After the war, stayed in touch with the comrades I made there, some of whom now serve in the German army. They share my fears about a new war. For reasons I am not yet at liberty to confide, they wish to contact Czechs willing to oppose Hitler at any cost and who know others who share that view. One of these gentlemen has recently been assigned as assistant military attaché to the German embassy in Prague. He wishes to meet you tonight at a place of your choosing.”
Herr Bohm breathed in deeply and sighed, “There! It’s done!”
“You wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink, would you?” Abrienda asked.
Bohm smiled broadly. “Only schnapps!”
Abrienda rolled her eyes. “Good God! Alright, so long as it isn’t cinnamon.”
Bohm produced a bottle and two shot glasses. “No, not cinnamon… Himbeergeist, from Alsace. An old and dear friend. It helped my comrades and I fight the cold in Russia during the winter.”
He held up his glass. “Prost!”
“Prost!” Abrienda replied and they threw back their drinks, Russian style.
“Mary and Joseph!” Abrienda exclaimed, then coughed.
“Where would you like to meet him? We must take for granted the phones in the German embassy are tapped.”
“My home,” Abrienda replied.
“I will call and arrange a meeting. Someone is eager to buy a manuscript I sold you today and wishes to know if you will part with it for the right price.”
“Yes,” Abrienda said. “I’ll invite you both to visit at 8 pm tonight to discuss the matter, though I am unlikely to agree as I bought it as a gift for a friend. You can also, for the sake of anyone listening, warn him to be on his best behavior, considering my views regarding Germany. How is that?”
“Excellent!” said Herr Bohm. “Let me call him now.”
Abrienda held up her shot glass. “Before you do, pour me another, will you?”
At exactly 8 pm Abrienda heard the doorbell ring. “Teutonic punctuality,” she said to herself with distaste. She opened the door to find Herr Bohm and another man standing behind to his right.
“Miss Abrienda de Soza, allow me to introduce Count Wilhelm von Braband, Assistant Military Attaché at the German Embassy to the Republic of Czechoslovakia.”
She extended her hand, which Count von Braband took. *“Ruku líbám, pani* de Soza. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Abrienda invited them in and switched to German. “Gentlemen, I am going to have a drink. Will you join me?”
“Count, I must warn you. You will only get cognac from Armenia here and nothing else!” Herr Bohm said cheerfully.
“Cognac from most anywhere suits me very well, though I don’t believe I have tasted any from Armenia,” the Count replied.
“Nor will you tonight. Ever since the Bolsheviks took over it is unobtainable, and the bottles stockpiled by my father sadly disappeared long ago.”
Abrienda placed glasses and a decanter made of Bohemian crystal on the living room coffee table, around which they sat in a semi-circle with Abrienda and the Count at opposite ends.
“Count Braband, Frederic informs me you wish to discuss a matter he says you say is of importance to both our countries.”
“That is so,” replied the Count. “However, may I first ask you if I may smoke?”
By way of reply, Abrienda opened her cigar case on the table, extracted a cigar for herself then offered the case to von Braband.
“A subtle and excellent reply,” he said and lit both their cigars with his lighter. “You are a woman who knows many important people, not just in your own country but abroad.”
“I would not say a great many, Count von Braband,” she demurred.
“You are being too modest, Abrienda,” suggested Herr Bohm. “People are drawn to you… I have seen it myself.”
“Mostly because they want something,” she replied. “What is it you want, Count Braband?”
“I believe you are close friends with General Gajda, as well as the Duke and Duchess of Windsor?”
Abrienda drew heavily on her cigar. “General Gajda was a close friend of my father. As for the Windsor’s, I was privileged to be one of the few at their wedding but am more a friend of the Duchess than the duke.”
“And Reichsminister Hermann Göring, is that not so?”
“My father was a friend of the family of his first wife, Carin von Kantzow. Göring and my father shared an interest in miniature railroading, along with Hungary’s Admiral Horthy. I saw his astonishing collection when I visited Karinhall some years ago. He was very kind to me when my father died, inviting me again to come and visit and met his brother, Albert, exchange cards every Christmas and have lunch when we are in the same city which is infrequent, as I would much sooner visit Patagonia in winter than Herr Hitler’s Germany any time of year… Count Braband.”
“You seem as well to be quite close to a Miss Nika Molnar, a lady we have reason to believe is one of Hungary’s ‘extraordinary agents’, meaning a professional assassin, is that not also so?”
Abrienda sighed in mild irritation. “Determining the first is not much of an intelligence coup. As for her being the second, that may or may not be so, though I doubt it.”
“Considering how… close, you two are thought to be, I rather thought you would know,” the Count answered sarcastically. “However, I shan’t disabuse you.”
Abrienda bit her lower lip and allowed her anger to build nicely before replying.
“Frederic, I did not ask for my evening to be disturbed by either of you. Does this Nazi skopchāk presume to use it to interrogate me about people I know or do not know and what I know or do not know about them in my own house?”
She saw the embarrassment on Bohm’s face. “It does appear so, Abri.” He turned and faced his friend. “Is that the reason I brought you here, Wilhelm?” Von Braband was about to answer but Abrienda cut him off.
“This, Herr Kartoffel, is not Berlin! This is my home, not an interrogation cell run by your motherfucking Gestapo! Ist das klar?“
Count von Braband was completely nonplussed. “Miss de Soza, I am…”
“I see you are many things, Count. I like none of them. You have done nothing but waste my time telling me things about myself and others I already know.”
She pointed to the door.
“You will now get out before I call the police and have you thrown out!” She drained her glass and placed it firmly in front of her on the table. “Herr Bohm, you are to go, too, the sooner the better… and never come back! Gute Nacht!“
Von Braband had realized how badly he had handled things only seconds before Abrienda’s fury rolled over him like Vishnu’s juggernaut. His mission had become a complete failure and had but one chance to save it.
“Miss de Soza, mere words cannot express my deep shame over my behavior! I was rude and arrogant. I sincerely and ardently beg you to forgive me. My visit is of such vital importance to our countries and to all of Europe, that I can only hope my inexcusably boorish and stupid words will not ruin something that is literally a matter of life and death for us both.”
Abrienda quickly regained her composure. “Christ teaches us to forgive, does He not, Count von Braband? In your case, I am more than willing to make an exception, however.”
She poured all three of them a second cognac. “Now tell me, Count Braband, why the fuck are you here?”
The Count winced, then nodded. Such a mixture of violence, vulgarity, and exotic beauty. Wasn’t her mother a Japanese or Chinese countess? Perhaps it was best not to ask at this moment.
“Thank you for accepting my apology. Miss de Soza, I am not a pacifist. My father fought under General von Trotha in Southwest Africa against the Herero, while I had the honor to serve under General Lettow-Vorbeck against the British, Belgians, and Portuguese in East Africa during the last war. But that we should sacrifice millions and court the destruction of its civilization over the assassination of someone who was little more than a glorified civil servant and his wife seemed madness to me then and still does today. It nearly destroyed Europe and brought the evil of Bolshevism into the world. Now we have in Germany a man whose sole purpose in life seems to be to start a second war and complete the work the last one left unfinished. The Europe we both treasure could not survive it.”
“Chancellor Hitler plans to invade Czechoslovakia before the end of the year. October 1, to be precise.”
Abrienda was taken aback. “That will mean war with France and Britain.”
“Not if the Czechoslovak government capitulates to external pressure and accepts whatever demands Hitler makes in order to prevent bloodshed.” “‘Outside pressure’, Count von Braband?” Abrienda queried.
“The Führer is convinced France and Britain do not want another war with Germany. It is not only Britain and France’s failure to react when first the Rhineland then Austria was annexed that makes him think this. During his visit last year, the former King of England told Hitler neither France nor his own country have the will to fight Germany, regardless the provocation. He also took credit for preventing Britain going to war over the Rhineland. The duke further informed Hitler he remains in touch with a vast circle of powerful members of the British establishment adamantly opposed to any war with Germany. The duke’s visit had a most pernicious effect, reinforcing Hitler’s opinion about British and French unwillingness to oppose any action undertaken by Germany.”
“I am convinced he is wrong. If Czechoslovakia stands firm, it is inconceivable that France and Britain would not declare war on Germany if Czechoslovakia were attacked. Failure to do so would be the end of their credibility, not only in Europe, but throughout the world.”
“Hitler wants not just the Sudetenland but Bohemia and Moravia as well, lands he thinks belonged to a mythic German Reich he sees himself recreating. However, another war with Britain and France is not something the German people want nor expected Hitler would give them when he took power. Accordingly, on the day Hitler orders the invasion of Czechoslovakia, he will be arrested and the Nazi regime, overthrown by those acting under the authority of the German general staff.”
For perhaps the third or fourth time in her life, Abrienda was rendered speechless. She reached for another cigar, which the Count immediately lit.
“Do go on, Count Braband,” she said at last.
“Once Hitler is deposed and the Nazi Party suppressed, the old political parties will resume their place in Germany and the interim government, exclusively through negotiations conducted in good faith, will settle all outstanding disputes with Germany’s neighbors, whom we expect to meet us in the same spirit of compromise and accord. In these negotiations, both sides will win and lose, but the result will be permanent peace in Europe and a united front against Bolshevik Russia.”
Abrienda nodded. “But?”
Von Braband leaned forward. “Indeed, ‘but’. This can only occur if Czechoslovakia refuses to surrender its sovereignty in return for false promises of peace, regardless of whomsoever makes them. It must be willing to fight whether it has allies or not. Then, at the same hour Hitler orders the German army to cross your border, we will strike and inform the German people they have been saved from utter ruin.”
Abrienda carefully considered her response.
“Count von Braband, I believe my country is not entirely blameless for the situation we today find ourselves. It has denied rights to others it grants to Czechs and Slovaks, the same mistake Austro-Hungary made and must inevitably lead to the same result. However, neither I nor any of my friends will ever accept a capitulation that robs us of our freedom as a people and nation without a fight to the death.”
The Count could hardly believe he had rescued his mission that only moments before teetered at the very precipice of disaster he himself had taken it. “Will you represent what I have said to those you refer to and put me in touch with them so that an understanding between us can be reached that I may then relay to my superiors in Germany?”
Abrienda went to refill the glasses of her guests but both demurred. “If I must drink alone, I will and suffer in silence,” and poured herself another drink.
“Count von Braband, I shall do all I can to arrange such a meeting. As I told Herr Bohm, I suppose the telephone lines at the German embassy are tapped. When I have managed to arrange a meeting, Herr Bohm will call you saying I have agreed to sell you the manuscript, a facsimile of which I you showed you tonight and that may come to my home in Hradec Kralove this weekend to acquire the original.”
Abrienda casually crossed to the telephone, found it firmly in the cradle, lifted it to listen for the dial tone and expected the disappointed she felt when proven right. She returned to her guests.
“Now then, gentlemen, excuse me and good night. There are things that need to be done to set this in motion and I see no reason to delay.”
Once her guests left Abrienda checked the phone again, then went into her bedroom and took her morphine kit from the top dresser drawer.
“Even though you mostly redeemed yourself with your apology, you acted very badly and foolish tonight,” Herr Bohm told his friend as the embassy driver drove them to their homes, a glass partition sealing him off from their conversation. “I have no idea what you were trying to achieve with your extraordinary behavior, but it jeopardized the entire meeting and nearly cost me my most valuable customer who has also become a friend.”
“I’m well aware,” von Braband acknowledged. “I am disgusted with myself. I have never been good with women yet there was something about her… her immense pride, that I resented, like a teenage boy.”
“Miss de Soza numbers Prime Ministers, famous generals and royalty among her friends and associates, due not only to the remains of her father’s stolen fortune but by her force of character. She has reason to be proud.”
Von Braband nodded. “My apology to her was sincere. I hope one day I can prove that. I am also ashamed I nearly cost you a substantial part of your yearly income.” Count Braband looked out the window. It was raining softly. “I felt very strange in her presence. I felt a deep attraction to her. I admit it. It unbalanced me.”
“You could not have a better person in this entire country to plead your case to the people most willing and able to help.”
“Yes, especially as she hates Germans so intensely,” von Braband added.”I saw it in her eyes, yet if someone such as she says there has been mistreatment of the Germans in the Sudetenland, then both she and those who think like her we can deal with fairly.”
Bohm placed a hand on von Braband’s shoulder.
“Willie, we have been friends for a long time. My ancestors are from Wurzburg but arrived here over 200 years ago. Now, I am a Czech.”
“I am glad you approached me for help,” he continued. “Neither of us want another war. Simply, do not mislead yourself as to my true loyalties.”
“I won’t. Frederic. As I said, your Miss de Soza had a curious effect upon me. The ferocity she displayed when she was offended! That was something worth seeing. To have possession of such a woman… I would court her and make her my wife were it not for her hatred of Germans. Also, I believe she is part Jewish and, in the file we have on her, appears I have already been bested regarding whom she shares her affections.”
“If you mean General Gajda, that is an old and malicious rumor,” replied Bohm.
“In point of fact, I was not thinking of him… nor of any man. As we are entertaining rumors, it is also rumored Miss de Soza is in some sort of romantic relationship with this mysterious Miss Molnar, about whom so much is said yet so little known.”
“I happen to have met Miss Molnar,” replied Bohm. “They are no more than close friends with apparently similar family backgrounds and tastes. That is what draws them together.”
“So, they are not secret lovers?” von Braband pressed his friend. Bohm laughed. “Wille, it wouldn’t be much of a ‘secret’ if I could answer that. From my experience of seeing them together, I certainly think no.”
“Very well,” von Braband said. “Nor may she be Jewish, though when she accompanied her father to Palestine, he contacted several Zionist organizations to whom he contributed money, contributions his daughter continues to the present day.”
Herr Bohm laughed. “Miss de Soza is as much a Jew as you are. If that is an example of German intelligence gathering and analysis, Hitler will surely die, but in office and of old age.”
Von Braband decided to redirect the conversation. “Göring at least doesn’t want a war. He only wishes to strut about as Reich Jägermeister, shoot wild pig in Polish forests, speed down the roads in his blue Mercedes, stuff his villa with priceless objects d’art acquired from Jews desperate to leave Germany, and indulge his morphine habit… a habit, or ‘inclination’, I believe you would call it, Miss de Soza shares with and was introduced to by Göring?”
“Another rumor. They always swirl around beautiful, exotic women. And I have never told you such a coarse thing.”
“I heard it somewhere else, then,” von Braband replied. “It’s the classic drug for actresses; I suspect she could have been a great one. Morphine, of course, is also a Jewish drug,” he added darkly.
Bohm looked quizzically at his friend. “I’m sorry, Willi… a ‘Jewish’ drug? How is such a thing possible?”
“In any case, Göring sees Germany’s future as dominating the continent economically, diplomatically, and culturally, the better to ready it for the inevitable life or death struggle with Communist Russia. He also wants to make Germany a world power again by retrieving our lost colonies in Africa. With this, naturally, I agree. As for his loyalty to the Nazis, I refer you to his curious attitude towards his brother Albert. He is frequently in trouble with the regime and has gone so far as to send trucks into concentration camps with forged requests for laborers, then once they leave the trucks ‘break down’ in some isolated area and the prisoners”escape”, yet each time this happens his brother intervenes on his behalf.”
“Are you suggesting Göring might side with a coup?” Bohm asked incredulously.
Count von Braband thought for a moment, then shook his head in disgust.
“How ghastly this all is, Frederic. We must bring about a war, a war that will kill and maim thousands, to prevent a greater one that will kill millions and destroy all Europe. For believe me when I say, Hitler’s plans are not confined to the acquisition of a few kilometers of tree-covered mountains inhabited by a bunch of German-speaking yokels. They encompass the whole world. That is what we will stop.”
He passed and looked out the window. “By the way, what did Miss de Soza call me?”
“You mean ’skopchāk’?” Bohm asked.
“Yes. I know what it means but maybe not in this context.”
Bohm laughed. “It’s a term of contempt for Germans. It would best translate as ‘muttonhead’.”
Von Braband laughed ruefully.
“Well, she was right.”
Abrienda spent next morning arranging the meeting between Gajda and von Braband. She met Gajda at Cafe Europa, and though it would have been less conspicuous had they conferred at Gajda’s home, his wife gave credence to gossip about Abrienda and her husband and banned her from the house.
Gajda agreed to see von Braband, and both would separately make the two-hour journey to Abrienda’s her home in Hradec Kralove Saturday morning.
Abrienda had planned to leave for Hradec that afternoon but had a sudden urge to visit Slavia’s. The Viennese coffee she ordered was tardy and was about to inquire after it when she heard someone imitating a man’s voice behind her open newspaper. “Here is your coffee, Miss de Soza.” She lowered the paper and Nika placed the cup and saucer in front of her.
“Hello, Abri.”
“Hello. You’re not my usual server. What happened to him, or shouldn’t I ask?”
Nika slipped into the chair across from her. “I gave him twenty korunas to let me bring your coffee, saying I was your stepsister and wanted to surprise you. I didn’t think the people who worked here could be bribed so easily.”
“Live and learn, as the Americans say,” Abrienda replied. “The world is a corrupt place.” She turned aside and studied the building across the street.
“It’s been… months.”
“I know. It has been hard for me, too. I wanted to come. I couldn’t. I had to perform a difficult assignment.” Nika reached across the table and took Abrienda’s hand. “I couldn’t write or contact you. But nothing on earth could make me happier than being with you now.”
“Staying long or just passing through?” Abrienda asked in her dreadful American accent. “I heard that in an American cowboy movie last week.”
“That’s my good news!” Nika leaning back in her chair, smiling. “I have been assigned to Czechoslovakia permanently. So… we can live together now… if you still want?”
Abrienda looked at her incredulously. “You feel the need to ask?”
Nika closed her eyes. “Thank God,” she replied. “I was so worried you’d be angry with me and say ‘no’. But there’s something I need to ask you… do you remember our promise?”
Abrienda nodded slowly. “I have not forgotten. Nothing can make me change my mind about that., no matter what happens. Ever.”
Abrienda finished her coffee, placed it carefully back on its saucer, and patted her lips with a napkin. “Still, it is a terrible, terrible sin.” She looked down and sighed.
“Care for a cigar?”
Nika took one from Abrienda’s open case on the table. “Lean forward,” Abrienda said and lit both cigars with the same match.
“That is so wickedly clever, Abri!” Nika said, delighted. “Four hundred years ago, that would have got you burnt at the stake as a sorceress.”
Abrienda dropped off her shoe and rubbed her bare foot against Nika’s inner leg.
“Let’s go to Hradec. You know I am happiest there.”
Nika closed her eyes. “When?”
Abrienda motioned for the bill. “Today. Now. There is no need for you to even unpack. We can leave in an hour. Is Boris Godunov somewhere outside?”
Nika laughed and nodded. “Yes, yes, he is.”
“He doesn’t like me,” Abrienda said as she paid the tab. “Or rather, he doesn’t approve of me.”
“He doesn’t like many people. He’s just overprotective.” Nika reassured her.
“Jealous?” Abrienda asked.
“No. Suspicious. Of everyone. Except me.” Nika replied.
Abrienda reached across the table, and Nika turned her palm up and took Abrienda’s hand.
“The world may be going to Hell soon, but so long as we can go there together, I won’t mind the trip.”
Some three hours later, Sergei dropped the couple off at Abrienda’s home. “This little place bores me, Nika, though I know what you find attractive about it.”
“You may find this hard to believe, Seryozha, but we are also here on business. There are people I need to eavesdrop on who arrive tomorrow morning and need you here if I must make a quick trip to Budapest. But after our little adventure in Ruthenia, I think I need some rest. You could use some, too, so go ahead and meet up with your White Russian friends in Prague until I need you. If not, there is a battlefield about thirty minutes away where you might care to wander. It’s quite large.”
“Well, that’s at least something to hold a man’s interest,” Sergei replied and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Suppose there is a pub nearby?”
Nika laughed. “This is Czechoslovakia… show me a place where there isn’t a pub nearby! I’d be surprised if it’s not on the battlefield itself.”
“Well, good,” Sergei replied. “Things are heating up and I’m not leaving you alone, especially in the company of your little ‘friend’ and her friends.”
“Abrienda is much more than just a ‘friend’ to me.”
“I know that. What I don’t know is how else to describe her.”
“As I told you, this trip is an assignment, perhaps the most important I have undertaken. I need you close,” Nika said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here,” Sergei reassured her. “I’ll go see if that place has a pub or not, then check into the hotel across from the train station. It was nice there. Be careful.”
Three hours later, the sun was setting, and Nika and Abrienda lay facing one another. Nika reached between them and, with her hand, began tracing Abrienda’s naked body shoulder to foot.
“You fascinate me. Eurasians are so beautiful. When I first saw you, sitting alone by the window, you didn’t seem entirely real. I just watched you, trying to decide what to do.”
She ran her fingers over Abrienda’s mons Venus. “Work took me to Spain, then France. I had it in my mind to come back, and though I didn’t know if you would ever be there again, decided that if you were, I would find the courage to approach you. I had never seen much less talk to someone like you before. You looked so sophisticated and complete. You were my every fantasy.”
She took her hand away. “Was it difficult for you? I mean when you returned to Europe… being different from everyone else?”
Abrienda’s smile was warm and loving. “You make me happy saying ‘returned’. No, it wasn’t. It felt like I was coming home. I’ve never felt ‘Oriental’, only European.”
She turned over on her back and looked up at the ceiling. “When I went to school, the other children made fun of me. They would slant their eyes, ask me if my real father was Genghis Khan… and so on. The teacher allowed it, so I told her my mother was a Japanese princess, thinking somehow it would make her stop them. She didn’t, so I endured it until one day my father came to school and heard the other children taunting me because of my mixed blood.”
Abrienda rolled over, took a cigar from the case on the nightstand, and offered one to Nika, who declined. “He was very upset and when I told him it had happened every day for years asked why I didn’t tell him.”
She drew heavily on her cigar and puffed smoke rings that drifted languorously towards the ceiling. “I told him I was brave enough to face it. His friend Captain Andrasko once told me I was brave and wanted to prove him right. My father was furious. He took me out of that school the same day, then bankrupted it by withdrawing the endowment he had given and persuaded others to do the same. He hired private tutors for me except for history, geography, German and Spanish. Those he taught me himself. I already knew how to speak Russian.”
“I think he loved you very much,” Nika said.
“He did. He was able to spare me so much of his time because we were, after all, independently wealthy,” Abrienda said with a wry smile, thinking about that night outside Fort No. 7. “But was a lonely life until you started watching me at Slavia’s. Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father’s death. Will you come with me to visit his grave?”
“Mary and Jospeh, of course I will,” Nika replied. “Now, make love to your insatiable stepsister.”
Next morning, Abrienda informed Nika that General Gajda was stopping by to look over a mediaeval manuscript he was considering buying, a manuscript she had bought from Herr Bohm some time ago and would be joined by a friend of Bohm’s who would buy it if Gajda did not. “Happily, it will not interfere with our plans. They’ll each have an upstairs apartment for the weekend, and we’ll leave them in peace while they consider whether to make an offer or not.”
Gajda and von Braband arrived at 9 am. Fortunately, Nika was in the bath, so Abrienda could make the introductions, escort her guests to their rooms and offer her sitting room as a place for their discussions without involving her. The two men expressed surprise she would not be with them.
“There is no reason why I need to be. You know my position, Count von Braband, and what I hope for our two nations. In everything else, General Gajda speaks for me.”
Nika came out of the bedroom.
“Miss Nika Molnar, this is Count Wilhelm von Braband, Military Attaché at the German Embassy in Prague standing next to my dear friend General Radola Gajda.”
At last, Nika met the man she suspected of being her romantic rival. “General Gajda, Abrienda has spoken so much about you; I feel like we are already old friends.”
Gajda smiled. “Any man would be fortunate to count you as a friend, old or new,” and kissed her hand.
Von Braband was equally courteous, and Abrienda motioned the two men to a table where a mediaeval Czech manuscript Bohm loaned to her for the occasion lay open.
“Take your time considering it, gentlemen. My stepsister and I have things to do in town and won’t be back until late afternoon.”
After a restful lunch, Abrienda bought flower bouquets and walked the short distance to the private cemetery where the De Soza family was laid to rest. They were greeted at the gate by the caretaker, who came out the door of a small house next to the cemetery and doffed his cap.
“Hello Janos! Nika Molnar, please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Janos Opálka. He is our caretaker and a close friend of the de Soza family. Janos, this is Nika. She is from Hungary.”
Janos again took off his cap, gave Nika a short bow, then started speaking quickly to Abrienda, though a severe speech or mental impediment that to Nika made his words sound like gibberish but Abrienda appeared to understand perfectly.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I will take care of it Monday.” He started speaking again and appeared apologetic, but Abrienda merely waved her hand and shook her head.
“No, no, you’re right, we can’t have that, not at all! I will take care of it Monday, I promise.”
Janos again spoke to Abrienda and pointed at Nika.
“Yes, Janos, the same country where Ondrej is studying… no, no, they live in different cities, far apart.” She turned to Nika.
“Jamos asked if you knew his son.”
Janos’ wife waved and called to Abrienda from the kitchen window of the house and again, Nika could not understand a word she said. “Hello, Mrs. Opálka… yes, Janos explained everything. Don’t worry, I promise to take care of it Monday morning—oh damn!” she cried and stamped her foot. “I brought you something from Prague but left it at home! I’ll bring it over tonight, good?” and the woman laughed and waved back.
She turned, smiling, to Janos. “Got to go!” and Janos again doffed his hat, although this time Abrienda shook her head and affectionately put her hand to his cheek. “Please don’t do that. You and your family are part of my family.”
After this display of what appeared to Nika a lovingly archaic scene of noblesse oblige between them, Janos opened the gate and she and Abrienda stepped inside. Abrienda switched to French.
“Janos is what our highly sophisticated friend, the Duke of Windsor, would call Hradec’s ‘village idiot.’ When I was ten years old, I was playing by the Elbe and fell in. I can’t swim and would have drowned but for the ‘village idiot’ who jumped into the water and saved me. A few hours later, my father went to where he lived with his wife and son—you couldn’t call where they lived a house, more like of a shack—and when my father went to give him money Janos refused. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘You saved my daughter’s life. Now I will change yours.’ He made Janos caretaker of the family cemetery and built a small house for him and his family next to the gate. With a job and a real house came respectability, and as he was now working for us, people stopped mistreating him and his family for fear of my father. I came here often bringing small cakes and we’d sit on the tombstones and eat together. Soon I learned to understand him quite well. His wife has the same affliction but not their son Ondrej. He now studies violin in Győr. Strange, no? That is why Janos asked if you knew him.”
It seemed unnecessary for Nika to ask who was paid the boy’s education and living expenses.
They walked slowly past the magnificent headstones and statues inscribed with dates reaching as far back as the early 17th century. Marble warriors dressed in armor shared the grounds with pensive, sorrowful angels commemorated the soldiers, clerics and statesmen who had served the old Austro-Hungarian monarchy. The inscriptions on the graves were in Latin at first, then gave way to German but the inscription on Karol de Soza’s tombstone was in Czech and set somewhat apart from the rest. Abrienda knelt and laid her flower arrangement on the grave, then looked up at Nika.
“I did not want him to share his grave with anyone,” she said, and ran her hand across the lettering of her father’s name on the tombstone. She crossed herself, kissed her thumb and forefinger, rose, and stood next to Nika who next laid her flower beside Abrienda’s. She crossed herself, then noticed there were two inscriptions near the bottom of the tombstone: a short one in Latin and a longer one in English.
“Abri, what are these?” she asked.
“The first one is the de Soza family motto. Nulla captivis. ‘No prisoners’ or, better still, ‘Take no prisoners.’”
Nika smiled. “I’ll remember that. And this one?”
Abrienda knelt beside her. “It’s from a Norse poem, Havamal. My father had great affection for the Norse epics,” and began to recite:
“Cattle, die.
Kin, die.
Thou, thyself, shall die as well.
One thing I know, that never dies.
Judgement over the Dead.”
The women returned to Abrienda’s home and found General Gajda waiting.
“Count von Braband left for Nuremburg. He needed to return to Berlin and will catch a Berlin-bound train from there. He asked me to express both his regrets and his regards to you both.”
“Didn’t he buy the manuscript?” Abrienda asked as she and Nika sat down.
“On the contrary. Having looked it over and discussing it between ourselves, we are both very interested. Count Braband entrusted me to tender you his offer along with mine and wrote them both down, along with a few questions and other points of interest. They are on your writing desk.”
The general rose. “Unfortunately, I, too, must leave. When you are in the mood to discuss what I wrote, please contact me. I am, as always, your servant.”
He turned his attention to Nika. “We did not have the chance to become better acquainted but hope we shall sometime soon.”
With a courteous bow and a clicking of heels, General Gajda departed for the train station.
“So, that was the good general?” Nika asked.
“That was he,” Abrienda replied, swaying her hips as she walked up to her. “What do you think?”
“I like him,” she lied, and Abrienda stepped back, put her hands on her hips, shifted her weight to one foot, and raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Maybe I am the one who should be jealous?”
Nika smiled and nodded. “Touché, darling. I admit, I am terribly jealous. Your general is very smooth and polished and were I not so jealous would find him charming. He’s not Czech, is he?”
“Many people say I am not really Czech. Like me, his father was Czech, but born in Montenegro. He served in the Austro-Hungarian army during the war.” “Umm, that accounts for his polish,” Nika said.
“He deserted to the Russians who, not knowing what to do with him, put him in the fledgling Czech Legion… fortuitously for us.”
“Was he really guilty of attempting a coup in Židenice?”
“Yes, he was. I paid for his defense.”
“And were you involved as well?”
“Yes, deeply. I almost had to flee to Poland, but it was worth it,” She motioned to the couch and brought out cognac and glasses. “Let’s sit, drink, and talk.”
“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can have your shameless way with me, Miss de Soza?” Nika teased.
“Damned right. The good Count seemed very taken with you, by the way,” Abrienda commented.
“Was he? I didn’t notice,” Nika replied offhandedly. “Besides, I am not overly fond of Germans.”
Abrienda finished pouring. “They are either at your feet or at your throat.”
She resealed the decanter, placed it on the table, and sat beside Nika. “When the coup failed, my lawyers understood Gajda’s defense was also mine and if acquitted, I would not be pursued. He was, so I was not.”
Abrienda sipped her cognac. “It was the right thing to do then and if needed, the right thing to do again. That’s what I want to talk to you about. If you give me a few minutes, I will have something for you to pass on to your friends in Budapest. Meanwhile, how about taking a trip with me to Varnsdorf?”
“Varnsdorf?” Nika replied. “Where is that?”
“Sudetenland. On the border with Bavaria. A family friend in the army has his home there. I should say ‘had’ because it was partly burnt down by a gang of Sudeten German ‘patriots’ who, in their longing for freedom, set fire to his house when he was absent but his wife and two children not. They are now living near Prague with his parents. He’s been given leave and has asked me for a loan to repair his house so must go up there and maybe persuade him to move somewhere safer, like here or Prague.”
“Fine with me,” Nika replied, thinking she might be able to gather some useful information about the situation in Sudetenland. She took a sip of her cognac and coyly looked at Abrienda. “I’m sure you and I will find something interesting to do up there, stepsister mine.”
Major General Hans Oster was too serious a man to show the euphoria he felt that a vital part of his plan to overthrow Hitler had fallen into place. “Gentlemen. I have been contacted by Count von Braband who has met with ex-general Gajda. If there is any chance the current Czechoslovak government will capitulate to Hitler’s demands, the Gadja will lead a coup and install one that will not. Thus, if Hitler initiates Operation Green for the invasion of Czechoslovakia, there will be war, at which point, we act.”
He nodded to the man sitting closest to his left. “A storm group of officers led by Lieutenant von Blumenthal will seize the Chancellery, dispatching with extreme prejudice any SS guards who try to resist and arrest Hitler. Once that is accomplished, the Großer Generalstab under general Halder with the support of generals von Witzleben, Brauchitsch and Stülpnagel will declare a state of emergency, the arrest of the remaining Nazi hierarchy and the absolute suppression of any resistance. Generaloberst Beck will come out of retirement as head of the new government and announce that the army, as the supreme custodian of the state, was obliged to take action to prevent another war that would surely lead to the annihilation of the Fatherland and all Europe. This will be immediately followed by a statement from the Czechoslovak government recognizing the new government along with a pledge to settle the grievances of the people in Sudetenland on terms acceptable to both sides.”
Lieutenant von Blumenthal was given permission to speak. “May I suggest that after Hitler’s death…”
“You mean ‘arrest’ do you not, lieutenant?” a senior officer asked.
“Your pardon, Herr Major. After Hitler is arrested, may I suggest offering General Lettow-Vorbeck a position in the interim government? He is immensely popular with the public and the army. He also has the trust and respect of the British. That could prove invaluable.”
“Excellent idea,” replied Oster. “I know your families are close and he is no fan of this regime.” He suddenly smiled. “But we have a nephew of the general with us. Is it true, lieutenant, that when Hitler offered your uncle the ambassadorship in London, he told the Chancellor to go fuck himself?”
There was a round of muted laughter which the lieutenant waited to subside. “That’s right, except I don’t think he said it that politely.”
The laughter was now unforced, and when it subsided the lieutenant was again given permission to speak.
“What of the Nazi leadership—Göring, Goebbels, Himmler, and the rest?”
“I think we must wait until they are in our hands before determining their future,” Oster replied enigmatically, and noticed von Blumenthal suppressing a smile.
“The chances of Göring coming around are high once he’s made to see the light,” a senior officer offered. “Unser Hermann is a condottiero. Threaten to take away his loot, and he’ll put a bullet in the back of anyone we tell him to put it. And I do mean anyone.”
“Our plans are set.” Oster continued. “We all know our tasks. Our duty is to save Germany and Europe from another war, this time under the leadership of a madman, even should it require giving up our lives in the process. Gentlemen, long live Sacred Germany.”
When the meeting ended, Oster called von Blumenthal aside. “I know what your intentions are when you storm the Chancellery.”
“What I intend is to ‘long knives’ every single one of those canailles I can lay my hands on,” he answered coolly, “whether they resist or not. This is no joke, Oster. It’s life and death, not just for those of involved but for the Fatherland, Europe, and perhaps the entire world.”
Oster shook Blumenthal’s hand. “Agreed. There can be no half-measures. Having been given the opportunity to surrender, they regrettably died while resisting a lawful order.”
Von Blumenthal saluted and turned to leave.
Oster was not finished.
“And lieutenant? That includes Göring.”
The women arrived by train in Varnsdorf by train next day and met by Captain Pavlik at the station. Abrienda introduced Nika as her recently discovered stepsister, secured a room at the only acceptable hotel in town and accompanied him with a local builder to see what remained of his house. It was in bad shape, and Pavlik’s wife and children had barely escaped. When the builder quoted a price for repairs ridiculously high to Abrienda, making it easier to suggest her friend move his family nearer to Prague where they would be safer, advice to which he eventually relented. The loan would now be to meet the cost of buying a new home and as it was late, Abrienda suggested they meet tomorrow morning to finalize the terms with a lawyer present before she and Nika return to Hradec.
Next morning, the couple was awakened by gunfire just below their widow followed. They dressed hurriedly and went to the hotel lobby where Captain Pavelik had just arrived. “Good morning, ladies. A company of Sudetendeutsches Freikorps has invaded the town. They shot and wounded a gendarme and occupied the train station. The gendarme commander went unarmed to confront them and the mob of locals who has joined the Freikorps lynched for his trouble alongside the wounded gendarme. Follow me, please.”
Captain Pavlik took the women to the gendarme station and took command. Only eight gendarmes were on hand to defend the station, and the captain worried about the windowless storage room at the rear of the building which had a wooden door he thought could be forced.
Pavlik was chagrined at having placed however inadvertently Abrienda and her companion in such danger. Since her father’s death he had been like an older brother, yet the scale of was happening in Varnsdorf surprised everyone.
“The mood in the whole region turned decidedly unfriendly over the past months,” he explained to Abrienda and Nika as he tried to make them more comfortable. “Black and red Sudeten flags sometimes showed up in town, but the Freikorps outside are not locals and crossed the German border early this morning. I called for help but was told similar attacks are taking place to the south and southwest just before the phone line went dead.”
“Captain! Someone is approaching,” a gendarme called out.
Pavlik went to the front window and saw an older man wearing traditional lederhosen and a Tyrolian hat standing about a hundred feet away. A boy no more than fifteen or sixteen years old stood beside him, holding a white flag fashioned from a pillowcase.
“You inside! I am Major Köstler of the 4th Bavarian Friekorps Battalion. Surrender your weapons. You will be interned in Germany then returned to your country. I believe there are two ladies inside. They will be treated with respect. This demand is not negotiable. You have twenty minutes to decide.”
“May I kill him, Captain?” Gendarme Marszalek asked. “I have a nice, clear shot.”
“Hold off. Let’s give him an answer he’ll be able to mull over his remaining years. Gendarme Hovarth, perhaps you can give the”major” a reply he will never forget?”
A ripple of laughter came from the others. “Yes, captain, as only a true son of Slovakia can!” he said, grinning and opened the window.
“Hey, opa! Listen up! Here’s our reply. Take your funny-looking hat, knobby knees and shrivelled little cock back to the Tyrol and teach Adolf how to yodel! Then you can go find the gypsy who fucked your wife while you were away causing trouble. That’s all—bye-bye now and come back never!”
The window slammed shut and “Major” Köstler heard raucous laughter and cheers inside. He took the white flag from the boy, tossed it on the ground, spat on it, and returned to his men.
“I could send one of my men with you out the back or request they allow you to leave in safety,” Pavelik suggested to Abrienda, but Nika shook her head.
“She’s right. We’ll stay here until help arrives… whenever that is.”
“Very well. If they really wanted a fight, they would have attacked right away. All they want is easy murder. I have no intention of surrendering.”
Meanwhile, the gendarmes continued laughing at the Freikorps major’s expense. Gendarme Marszalek came over and slapped Hovarth on the shoulder seconds before a fusillade of bullets slammed into the station. One struck Marszaelk in the forehead, killing him instantly.
Hovarth fired back and bullets again ripped across the front of the building. A grenade was thrown at the door but instead hit the wall and exploded harmlessly against the thick stone masonry. “You guys throw like girls!” Hovarth shouted out the window and was rewarded with a bullet that struck the window frame an inch from his head.
“Svině! Choď skrutku matcky!“
“Great job, Jánošík—now you’ve really made them mad!” a gendarme said.
Captain Pavlik knelt beside Marszalek’s body, but he was past saving. Nika and Abrienda joined him.
“You should have let him shoot, Captain,” Nika said. Abrienda started undoing Marszalek’s holster, but Pavlik stopped her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted above the gunfire.
“Getting his gun—what in Hell does it look like?” she replied.
A gendarme at the right-hand window sang out when a bullet grazed his shoulder, but he kept shooting and dropped one of the Friekorps fighters.
“Look, he’s dead, and I can shoot almost as good as you. Now help me get his motherfucking gun!”
Pavlik ripped open the holster.
“Take it!”
Nika reached inside her jacket and pulled out her fully loaded FÉG 37M. Pavlik looked at her in surprise.
“I always bring my own.”
The firing stopped, and Captain Pavlik checked on his men. Through the window he saw the attackers carrying away a body and helping a wounded man back.
The sound of combat could be distinctly heard to the southeast.
“It does sound like we are in the middle of something much bigger,” the captain said. “We’re going to be on our own for a while.”
Pavlik went into the sleeping quarters and got a blanket. “They hurt us, but I think we hurt them more,” he said, laying the blanket over Marszalek’s body. “If they attack again, it will be after dark. Rest now. It’s going to be a long night. But first…” and beckoned Abrienda and Nika to follow him into the storage room.
“If they come again, this is where they will try and enter. I have a plan to deal with another attack but to make sure it works I need you to stay here. If anyone comes through that door, kill him.”
Nika reached into a crate and pulled out a German Bergmann submachine gun. “What’s this doing here?”
“It’s from a cache of old weapons the gendarmes discovered. Only one worked properly.” Pavlik said, somewhat surprised.
“This one?” Nika asked.
“The very same,” he replied. Nika rummaged through the crate and held up a drum-barrel magazine. “Thirty-two rounds, yes?”
“Exactly, but it’s the only one we found,” he replied, this time without surprise. “There may be a couple of loose rounds at the bottom.”
Nika fitted the magazine, lifted the Bergmann to her shoulder, and aimed it at the door. “Thank you, Captain. Do whatever else you need to do. We’ll be fine here.”
“I can see that,” he said. He looked at Abrienda and she smiled and nodded.
“Good. Call me if anyone visits.”
Nika removed the magazine from the Bergmann as Abrienda cocked her head and smiled. “Well… surprises, surprises!”
Nika put her arms around her. “It was the first weapon I trained on, the Great War version.”
“If I get killed, Sergei will never forgive you,” Nika said as she checked the number of rounds in the magazine.
Abrienda looked up at her with the expression of a frightened little girl.
“Oooh! That doesn’t sound too good.”
“It isn’t,” Nika said, and laid the magazine beside her. “But if it happens, I’m told Bechuanaland is nice this time of year.” She took out her new cigar case. “One of mine, Miss de Soza?”
An hour or so after nightfall, Captain Pavlik entered the back room carrying a satchel. Nika was awake but she had persuaded Abrienda to sleep.
“They’re getting ready out there. I’m taking the four grenades we have to the roof so if they come, I can give them a little treat. They could try for the back door, but if they do, I’ll save one to drop on them, so stay far from the doorway. They don’t seem too well equipped, and the grenades they threw at us earlier are probably the only ones they had, so if you hear a grenade going off, it’ll likely be ours. Turn off the light until I close the hatch behind me. Good luck, Miss Molnar. Take good care of Abri.”
Pavlik climbed the small stairway giving access to the roof, pulled himself through the small hatch and closed it quietly behind him.
A few more minutes passed before Nika nudged Abrienda awake.
“We have guests.”
Nika rose and went to the right side of the door She ran her hand across the two top hinges.
“Help me with these… dammit!” Nika swore as she pulled at the pin of the door’s upper hinge. Abrienda managed to pull the pin of the second hinge halfway. They heard a volley of bullets hit the front of the building and the gendarmes returning fire, but the sound of battle from the front of the station did not prevent Abrienda and Nika from hearing voices speaking German just outside the storage room door.
Nika grabbed the top of the second pin and with a surge of adrenaline pulled it from the hinge.
“Mary and Joseph!” she said, stepped back several feet and hefted the Bergmann to her shoulder. “I’ll fire four 6-round bursts, and if that doesn’t discourage them, run back and I’ll use the final burst to cover our retreat to the door at the end of the corridor, good?”
Abrienda nodded, and they took positions slightly off-center to the door, Nika on the left and Abrienda the right. The Friekorps started battering at the door. It began to shudder.
Abrienda again smiled and cocked her head. “Le bal commence, chérie!“ she said and aimed at the doorway.
“I love you, Abrienda de Soza,” Nika said.
“And I love you. Always,” she replied. “See you later, right?”
Nika smiled. “Damned right!” and when she saw Abrienda cross herself, looked upwards and said softly, “Me, too.”
Nika placed her pistol within easy reach and shouldered the Bergmann just as the lock broke, the bottom hinge flew off and the door fell in a cloud of dust and debris.
The Freikorps fighters expected the sound of gunfire at the front of the building would mask that of their breaking in through the backdoor, but it also prevented them from hearing anything inside the storeroom and had no inkling anyone was waiting for them on the other side of the door when it fell flat into the room. Before they could recover, the sinister ta-ta-ta-ta of Nika’s Bergmann, punctuated by the heavier reports from Abrienda’s army pistol dropped two of the Friekorps in the doorway and wounded another behind. There followed an explosion and a terrible scream outside the door, another explosion at the front of the station and a final one further away. A voice shouted commands in German, the firing ceased, and everything fell silent. The battle was over.
“We’re still alive,” Abrienda said, the words sounding like questions. Nika crossed the room and put her arm around her shoulder.
“Yes… we’re invincible.”
The roof hatch opened and Abrienda pivoted on her heel and drew down on the opening as Captain Pavlik dropped to the stairs. He held up his hands.
“Don’t shoot, Abri, I surrender!” he said, smiling and went to the doorway. “Two dead here and two more out front.” He took a rifle out of the hands of one of the dead Freikorps, dressed in lederhosen.
“Herr Köstler, I presume. Looks like the good kapitän should have taken Horvath’s advice.”
A much younger man lay across his feet behind him. It looked like the boy who had held the white flag. The expression on his lifeless face was screwed up into one of intense surprise.
“Looks like this one could be his son, or even grandson,” Pavlik said.
Nika put down the Bergmann and retrieved her pistol. “More likely the latter,” she said casually over her shoulder.
“Maybe sixteen… or seventeen,” Pavlik continued.
“Maybe,” she said, dropping Bergmann into the storage crate. “What of it?”
Pavlik watched Nika shove the pistol back inside her jacket. “He came here to kill us. You expect me to do what, captain? Cry for him?”
Pavlik gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment.
“No, Miss Molnár. I would never expect that from you.”
He turned to Abrienda as if to ask something but decided against it. “I’ll send someone to clear away the bodies and barricade the door.”
A few hours later, the defenders heard artillery fire in the distance, and in the morning a platoon of three Czech LT 35 tanks rolled past followed by regular infantry to recapture the train station, but the Friekorps had disappeared. They left the bodies of the two lynched gendarmes hanging at the station and many townspeople had fled across the border into Germany, fearing reprisal for their murder.
Captain Pavlik found the body of a fighter slumped next to a tree the Friekorps had not been able to drag away and died of his wounds, making for a total of five dead. Among the gendarmes, Marszalek had been the only one killed, but two others were wounded, one seriously.
“You can thank me for our victory, comrades!” Howarth said as the tanks rumbled past. “My brilliant reply to the late Wilhelm Tell so demoralized the enemy, their defeat was certain!”
The fighting was not limited to Varnsdorf. Some 700 Freikorps supported by two SS companies with light artillery from Germany attacked towns to the west and southeast in a bid to occupy the entire district. Czechoslovak forces were surprised by the size and intensity of the assault, but slowly the Czechs brought overwhelming force against the invaders and by evening had driven them back into Germany.
Captain Pavlik found a man with a car who was eager to leave for Prague. “Come and see me in Hradec the next time you get leave,” Abrienda said. “We’ll arrange everything then, good?”
“Excellent! Thank you,” Pavlik replied. “You may also tell General Gajda I’m his man. No son of a bitch will take away my country without a fight.”