Three weeks after she had arrived in Prague, Nika was ordered to return to Budapest. Through the good offices of Berlin, Hungary had been awarded the territories she lost to the Czechoslovak Republic two decades before. The Hungarian army had been ordered to enter these lands on November 5th and Viktor did not want Nika in Prague when it happened but when they were occupied without resistance had acceded to Nika’s request to be allowed to return to Prague for Christmas and New Year’s.
“The hypocrisy of the French and British is I think without historical parallel.” Viktor mused. “First, they demand the Czechs capitulate and surrender their fortifications. Then, having rendered their country indefensible, offer to ‘lend’ the Czechs 8 million pounds and make them a ‘gift’ of another 4 million for defense! What do they propose the Czechs do now with the money? Start building a new Maginot Line when the German frontier is now less than a hundred miles away from the center of Prague?”
He put both hands behind his head and laced his fingers together.
“‘Perfidious Albion’. Never was a more accurate phrase coined, as I fear our Polish friends will soon discover.”
“Viktor, what about my request?” Nika purred. “Think of this as a sort of late Christmas gift, since you forgot this year… and every year.”
Viktor studied the small pile of documents and photographs on his desk.
“This won’t be hard. We do it all the time, as you know. I always thought we could make a fortune converting Nansen passports into Hungarian ones, but my proposal was considered entirely too unconventional. Now that I am in a position to do it, the League of Nations has stopped issuing them. Just my luck.”
Nika smiled. She wondered what he’d want in return, as it was healthier they maintained their relationship on a strictly quid pro quo basis.
Viktor lit a cigarette and offered one to Nika, who this time accepted. Perhaps smoking would mitigate against the chill. “How was Christmas in what’s left of Czecho-Whateveria?”
“Glum,” Nika replied. “Short of war, it couldn’t be worse.”
“I agree,” Viktor said. “War might not have been worse in the long term.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me, ’How is your little half-Czech friend with the funny eyes doing these days?”
Viktor smiled. “How is your little half-Czech friend with the funny eyes doing these days?”
“I can give you a more definitive answer on that once you say yes or no to my request.” Nika replied.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, it’s ‘yes.’ In fact, I’ve grown rather fond of your diminutive lover, though we’ve never met.”
“Meanwhile, in other news, Hitler has given up all pretense and is now pressuring the Poles to surrender Danzig and the Corridor to Germany, along with other minor ‘adjustments’ along the border.”
“The anti-clockwise moving swastika again?” Nika asked.
Viktor shrugged. “Der Führer apparently offered Poland most of Slovakia in exchange for the so-called Polish Corridor. The Poles came back with a counteroffer: let us have all of Slovakia and we keep Danzig and the Corridor. I’ve always admired their spirit, if not their prudence. In any case, negotiations have completely broken down between Warsaw and Berlin.”
He drew heavily on his cigarette and exhaled. “And need I remind you, ‘Poles are not Czechs’, as the saying now goes.”
Nika grimaced. “Yes. I’ve read that phrase in the Polish newspapers.”
Viktor nodded. “It happens to be true. If Hitler wants a war, the Poles will give him one, regardless of what France and Britain want. That’s why I plan to get this little project done for you as soon as possible. By turning Slovakia into a German satellite and turn then occupy what’s left of Bohemia and Moravia, the Germans have uncovered Poland’s southwest flank and can strike directly at Krakow. They will want to do that before winter, which means the Germans must be in Prague before spring.”
He looked at Nika sternly and lowered his voice. “That is not guesswork, understood? You must get your friend out of there now, not later.”
He rose from his desk, went to the record player and put on the version of ‘The Pearl Fishers’ Nika had brought him from Brussels. He returned to his desk, gathered up the documents and photos and placed them in an envelope. “This will be ready for you Friday morning, with my compliments. Just get her the Hell out of there, for your sake, if not hers.”
“Thank you, Viktor. It was very hard for me to leave her this time, harder than all the other times combined. May Sergei accompany us?”
Viktor lit another cigarette. “I don’t want you risking his life and especially yours more than strictly necessary to pull this thing off. You are to avoid killing anyone in the process but if you must, do it in such a way I never hear about. If getting her out of what’s left of Czechoslovakia via Poland becomes too dangerous, bring her to Hungary. Then she can travel to Warsaw, Timbuktu, Mandalay or wherever else her combative, mischief-making little soul sees fit. But I want you to come back here soon and safe!” “I understand,” replied Nika.
Viktor closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair and pointed at the envelope on his desk. “Friday morning. Documents Bureau. Close the door on your way out.”
“Miss de Soza? Frederic Bohm here.”
“Yes,”
“Fine, thank you. The 14th century manuscript from Pisa has finally arrived. We can discuss prices over lunch tomorrow at U Bonaparte with a mutual friend and fellow collector…”
“Noon?”
“Excellent. I look forward to seeing you. Good day.”
The next day Abrienda arrived at U Bonaparte to find Herr Bohm and Count von Braband seated at the table furthest from the door. Von Braband rose, clicked his heels and invited Abrienda to join them.
“I think it would be best if we spoke English, agreed?” suggested Herr Bohm, the chances being almost nil anyone could then eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Miss de Soza,” von Braband began, “You mustn’t think the turn of recent events was something you did not do your utmost to prevent.” He opened his cigarette case and offered it to Abrienda, who declined. “Indeed, I personally don’t know of a woman who possess more courage.”
“That is very kind of you, Count von Braband,” she responded, eyeing him suspiciously. “How odd it is you are so complimentary, considering the last time we met.”
Bohm was about to speak, but the Count stopped him with a slight gesture of his hand. “For which I apologized at the time but will happily apologize again and again, as often as you wish, until at last you truly do forgive me.”
Abrienda took one of the Count’s cigarettes from the still-open case on the table. “I do now accept your apology, Count von Braband. We won’t mention it again.”
The Count gave a sharp bow of his head. “Thank you, Miss de Soza.”
Watching he sat silently, watching them talk, Bohm suddenly wished he had never introduced the Count to Abrienda.
“If you will both excuse me for a moment, something has come up to which I must attend. Don’t order lunch for me but will be back in time for dessert and a drink later. My apologies,” he said and after a brief word with the manager, hurriedly left.
“The dispute between Germany and Poland is now irresolvable. Hitler wanted a war over the Sudetenland. He will get one over Danzig and the Polish Corridor. Unfortunately, war with Poland will be popular with the German people, including those in our military who oppose Hitler but are convinced France and Britain will again back down at the last moment.”
The waiter took their order, and Abrienda and the Count switched back to Czech, discussing more mundane topics in a lighter tone until lunch was served and then returned to speaking English.
“Hitler cannot take Germany into war and leave Czechoslovakia in its present state,” he continued. “Accordingly, I have been informed the German army will occupy what remains of your country sometime next month.” He reached into his jacket, withdrew a sheet of official-looking paper from his upper vest pocket and handed it across the table to Abrienda.
“The Gestapo has compiled a list of those to be ‘investigated’ for alleged anti-German activities once Bohemia and Moravia are occupied. The term ‘investigate’, as employed by the Gestapo, is a euphemism for arrest and interrogation of the most vigorous kind. As you can see, your name is the ominously numbered 13 from the top.”
Abrienda studied the document, then delicately maneuvering the paper between the first two fingers of her right hand casually returned it open-palmed to the Count. “Interesting but not surprising. Why you are showing it to me, however, is.”
Von Braband took the paper and returned it to his vest pocket. “It confirms what I wrote to you over two weeks ago.”
“Yes, I know,” she replied. “But that is not what I asked you.”
Von Braband was not used to being pressed so hard by anyone, much less a woman, and felt a mixture of discomfort and excitement. “Let us say I have my own reasons. In any event, you must leave here and soon.”
“Once war begins, there will eventually be a desire to resist occupation among the Czech people. Frederic has told me of your plan to anticipate and take advantage of this.”
Abrienda looked at von Braband coldly. “That was reckless of him.”
“You are wrong,” he replied. “I am exactly the right person to confide in. I am offering you all the help I can to lay the foundation for what you discussed before you must by necessity flee your own country. My sincere hope is that, perhaps with my small help, you will be able to return to it that much sooner.”
Abrienda studied him through the cigarette and cigar smoke. “We both have our regrets, Count von Braband. Had I been able to deliver to you what my friends promised, we would not be having this conversation now.”
“You have no reason to regret,” von Braband replied. “In any event, I find our conversation edifying. Will you accept my help?”
“I would be mad to refuse,” Abrienda replied, then, reaching across the table, laid her hand upon his wrist. “And ungrateful. But I only know what I want done, not how to do it. I am not my father… he was far wiser and clever than I could ever be. All I can do is provide the money to get it started.”
Von Braband smiled. “But was it not Cicero who said, ‘The sinews of war are infinite money?’“
Abrienda unintentionally gave the Count her most fetching smile in return. “It could very well be,” and both were laughing when Bohm returned. “If I find you both like this, I know all must be well here.”
“Now that there is complete harmony between us,” von Braband said, “I should like a drink to celebrate it. As I recall, cognac is your poison of choice, Miss de Soza?”
“Abrienda now, please,” she replied. “And yes, it is… followed closely by black beer.”
“I shall remember that as well,” the Count replied, went to order drinks for all three but Abrienda begged off, complaining of a sick headache. Von Braband offered to drive her home in his car and though thanking him demurred again and asked Pavel to call her a cab, saying being seen together in such a public fashion might not be helpful to them.
“You are right, of course,” he replied. “I shall take the liberty of contacting you through Frederic when I have information about our venture.” “Chalice,” Abrienda said suddenly.
Bohm looked at his friend. “I beg your pardon?”
“The name of our organization. Chalice. I just thought of it. It celebrates a mob of 15th century heretical bigots known as the Hussites. It will appeal to Czechs willing to take part while being sufficiently obscure to everyone else.” She rose, and von Braband and Bohm rose as well.
“Excellent. ‘Chalice’ it shall be,” Bohm said.
“A pleasure, Fräulein de Soza… as always,” von Braband said with just the right touch of irony and to which Abrienda responded by extended her hand which the count kissed while executing a short bow and the clicking of heels.
“This is a dangerous business you are about to engage in, Fredric,” von Braband told his friend once Abrienda left. “People who do rarely write their memoirs.”
“I have made my decision,” Bohm replied. “I will not go back on it… you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
“How do you know?” von Braband replied matter-of-factly.
“I knew it that night in the cab after your clumsy observation about how you would court and marry her, ‘if’.”
“Yes,” von Braband said. “I had lost myself, saying and maintaining ridiculous things I didn’t wholly believe. No, untrue. I believed most of them. Now, they stand in the way of what I truly want so are no longer important to me and never should have been.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I know now why I responded so strangely that evening. Her very essence had entered my heart but did not understand why and fought against it for all the wrong reasons. Yes, I am in love. Maybe not for the first time, but certainly the last. Once Hitler and his regime are defeated, I intend to marry Miss de Soza. I will do whatever is needed so that she will be happy to become Countess Abrienda von Braband.”
“You plan to win her love by risking your life?” Bohm inquired.
Von Braband paused. “Yes. Something like that.” He lit another cigarette. “I sound like a character out of a novel by Sabatini, no?”
Bohm laughed. “From”The Historical Nights.” Let’s see, ’Because she died, he loved her. Because he loved her, he died.’ You’ll be happy to know Sabatini is one of Abrienda’s favorite writers.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” Von Braband looked around him. “I could live in this country… if she wanted. Now, all I must do is get her to agree to live in it or anywhere else as my wife. However, before that can happen, there is much to be done.”
When Abrienda arrived home, she found a telegram affixed to the door. Headache forgotten she hurried inside, kicked the door shut, and tore open the telegram: Nika would be arriving tomorrow afternoon and asked if she could perhaps find her some place to stay a few weeks or longer. “Minx!” she said and pirouetted around the room.
Sergei made excellent time from Budapest despite the weather and arrived in Prague a little past one in the afternoon. During the journey, Sergei had been even more silent than usual and Nika had, as usual, mostly slept. She was sleeping when Sergei loudly announced, “We’re here!” and woke with a start. Nika stretched and moved closer to the passenger window and saw they would be in front of Abrienda’s house in about half an hour.
She knew there was something on Sergei’s mind, expected him to tell her before they arrived and was not to be disappointed.
“That little girl will get you killed,” he finally said.
“The other way around is more likely,” Nika replied.
“I wish you had never met her. Your life was simpler before.”
“My life has never been simple, but it has been empty. I had your friendship, but needed something more. I was lucky to find it in her.”
Sergei drove on in silence for a few minutes before answering. “Finding you that night gave my life purpose again, Nika. I suppose that makes me selfish.”
The car slowed to a stop in front of Abrienda’s home. “It may be difficult for me to persuade her. We may be here a week and can’t be sure der Führer won’t force us to change plans suddenly… then we—”
Sergei cut her off. “I understand. I will never let you down, Nika. I already arranged to stay with Captain Dementyev. You can reach me there anytime.”
He got out, opened the door for Nika, then got her things from the trunk. “Good luck,” he said and as the car pulled away, Nika heard Abrienda calling from the upstairs window.
“Hey, lady! Would you like some help with your luggage? I’m sending down the porter!” She pulled the window shut with a bang and, a minute later, appeared to fly out the vestibule door.
Abrienda stood still for a moment, looking at Nika and catching her breath.
“Hello, Abri,” Nika said.
Abrienda grabbed the lighter of the two bags. “I’ll take this one!” she said, laughing. “I forgot— porter is on holiday, so I’m filling in!” She skidded a bit on an icy patch but recovered. “Mary and Joseph! You’ll have to give me a nice tip for hauling around your stuff!”
“Okay, here’s one—’Buy low, sell high, pal!” Nika replied in English.
Abrienda stopped in front of the foyer door.
“Sorry?”
Nika laughed. “Oh, nothing…something I heard in an American gangster film. Maybe the joke doesn’t translate well.”
Once inside the house, undressed, radio turned on and surrounded by cognac, cigars, and the pastries Abrienda loved, Nika decided it was time to broach the subject she wished was unthinkable.
“You cannot stay here any longer. For all we know, the Germans could be here tomorrow morning and you under arrest by evening. You must leave… by the end of the week.”
Abrienda was silent for a long while. “Yes. It’s hard for me to say it, but yes, you are right. Von Braband informed me my name is Number 13 on the list of people the Gestapo would like to get to know better after they arrive.”
“Von Braband?” Nika asked, though she heard his name perfectly well but felt the same sharp stab of fear she did before whenever she had heard Gajda’s name.
“He is helping me organize some things if I must leave suddenly, which now seems likely. I want us to go to Hradec this weekend. If I must leave for Poland, it’s better to go from there.”
“I won’t mind turning this mausoleum over to the Germans. It’s where my father died, right over there,” she said, pointing across the room. “I’ve always found it depressing, even sinister. The same way I find Prague, actually.” “Sergei says ‘Hello’,” Nika said trying to change the subject.
Abrienda shook her head. “Thanks, but we both know he didn’t. He doesn’t like me.” She opened the humidor, took out a cigar, and offered one to Nika. “You want to come with me to Hradec or stay here and trip the light fantastic with Prince Potemkin and his White Russian friends till the Germans arrive and break up the party?”
Nika smiled and shook her head. “God, but I love you, Abrienda.” She said and leaned over and kissed her. “I brought you a present from Budapest.” She went into the bedroom where Abrienda had dropped her luggage and came out carrying a sealed envelope.
“And Prince Potemkin was Polish!” she said, handing Abrienda the envelope.
She tore open the envelope and out fell a Hungarian passport. “It’s not as fine a gift as a 17th century miniature portrait of the Blood Countess, but it’s the best I could do.”
Abrienda opened the passport and saw her photograph affixed to the upper half of the second page. “I hope you like your new name, Miss Lujza Draskovich,” Nika said, who then knelt in front of her and hugged her knees. “It means you can leave the country without risking being stopped at the border.”
She leaned backwards and looked into Abrienda’s eyes “You can use it to get safely into Poland or… come to Hungary and live with me in Budapest.”
“You would be safe there,” she continued, warming to the idea. “I have a nice place, now. We could…”
Abrienda stopped her. “No darling. I would be an enemy alien, and one day your government would hand me over to the Germans, or their Gestapo would send someone like you into Hungary to kill me.”
“That was cruel, Abri.” Nika said.
Abrienda knelt on the floor next to Nika and stroked her face. “Maybe, but still true. Then, when you tried to protect me, they would kill you, too. How could you expect me to bear that? I had to be cruel for you to see that to agree to go to Hungary with you would be a death sentence for us both.”
A tear stole down Nika’s cheek. “Maybe it would be worth it. For me.”
“That’s no option, Nika,” her lover said tenderly. “There is another—we could go to America! I mean now, today… drive to Italy or France, find a boat going in that general direction, maybe stop off somewhere exotic along the way, get off at New York harbor – c’est voila!“
Nika smiled and closed her eyes. “Yes, I’ve thought of that, though I am not sure what I would do there except make love to you… ‘day and night, night and day’.”
Abrienda smiled. “You can have that job for life! America’s the land of Cole Porter, now that you have so cleverly reminded me. There must be something magical about a country where people write songs like that, don’t you think?”
She paused and looked away. “We could leave tomorrow… start anew.”
“Yes,” Nika replied hesitantly. “But I’m afraid I’d be lost there. And what would I do? Live off you?”
“I could think of worse fates,” Abrienda replied, still looking away.
“Let’s keep it as our final option, then, until we see how things work out here. There are many places in Europe we could live as well… though maybe none of them would ever really be safe.” She stroked Abrienda’s cheek. “For either of us.”
“That’s settled, then. America as the last option,” Abrienda said. “We wouldn’t be the first Europeans to think of it that way.”
She rose and poured two cognacs. “You can help me start packing.” She looked around the room. “I am going to sell this place regardless. It’s excessive to have two homes, and this one holds too many bad memories. I’d be happier living among the Apache Indians of America than here.” Abrienda took a deep breath and sighed.
“Good! I feel better now. Thank you.” She put her glass on the table, took Nika’s glass out of her hand., set it aside and kissed her on the mouth.
“I could do that with you forever,” Nika said. “So… Poland?”
Abrienda nodded, drank, then picked up her new Hungarian passport. “What about my new Hungarian nom de voyage? What does it mean? Anything? Did you choose it?”
“As a matter of fact, it does and I did. Your family name, Draskovich, is from old Croatian nobility.” Nika put her arms around her lover’s waist and drew her close. “And ‘Lujza’ means ‘famous warrior’.”
“Ummm… ‘famous warrior.’ I think I could learn to like that,” Abrienda said.
“It seemed appropriate,” and in one swallow emptied her glass then grabbed Abrienda by the shoulders and wrestled her to the floor. “Though little famous warrior would be even more! Now make love to me, famous little warrior!” Early next morning Count von Braband called Abrienda with word they must meet for lunch at the usual place. This suited Nika, as she needed to go to the Hungarian embassy a final time and left for the city center together. Abrienda had the cabbie take Nika to the embassy first, then to her meeting with Bohm and von Braband.
Entering U Bonaparte, Abrienda was surprised to see Count von Braband sitting alone.
“Good afternoon, Count Braband,” Abrienda said as he helped her with her chair. “I was under the impression Herr Bohm would be with you.”
“He planned to but was called away to attend to our previously discussed business venture. He sends his apologies.”
“He did leave you something… a going away present of sorts.”
He reached into his attaché case and produced a large, book-sized package securely wrapped.
“It is an illustrated manuscript from Bruges, 1494, about the Burgundian Wars. Along with some beautiful illustration work, the book contains the names and locations of those who have committed themselves to resist an occupation. They have been given code names.”
As before, they reverted to Czech when the waiter came to take their order and returning to English when he left. The manager was not suspicious, assuming they were lovers who did not want intimate details shared with strangers.
“Herr Bohm tells me you signed over your house in Prague to him so that he may sell it and use money to fund your future endeavors, is that true?”
“Yes. Better to sell it at any price and use the proceeds to my project instead of having it expropriated for belonging to an enemy of the state,” she replied evenly. “I just hope they spare my home in Hradec… you visited once, I now recall.”
“I think your house in Hradec is charming. It would sadden me to see you lose it. Would you be offended if I bought it? It has memories for me, and I’ll need a nice place to live as it appears I will be permanently assigned here after the occupation. When this is all over, you can have them back.”
Abrienda was surprised. “You will bring your family from Germany?”
“I am not married and without children,” he replied, then smiled. “Which is good news for you. None of your things are likely to be broken before you return to reclaim them. What do you say, Abrienda?”
“That is a generous and truly noble offer. But for me, it’s a very sad place. I will never want it back. If you really wanted to do me a favor, you would take my place in Hradec. I would hate to lose that and wish to return there… when this is all over.”
“Then I will take both! When you return you can throw me out of one or the other,” the Count said with a laugh. “Agreed?”
“Are you serious, Count von Braband?”
“Completely serious,” he replied. “They will both be here, as you left them, waiting for your return.”
Abrienda was nonplus. “Then, of course… I agree. I don’t think it is possible for me to thank you enough. All the deeds and titles are with Herr Bohm, who is my legal executor and has my power of attorney.”
“Both an excellent and convenient choice,” he said cheerfully and raised his glass. “To your safe return and soon—prost!”
“Prost!” she replied as lunch was served.
“Now then, I have disturbing news for you, plus a sort of ‘confession’ I wish to make,” the Count said.
“The first. You must leave the country as soon as possible. The embassy was informed yesterday our army will enter Bohemia and Moravia the evening of March 15th. The pretext will be a declaration of independence by Slovakia on March 14th, four days from now. This will effectively dissolve the Czecho-Slovak state and compel Germany to occupy Bohemia and Moravia to restore order and ‘normality’ in Central Europe. Germany will have the support of both Hungary and Poland, though somewhat short sightedly in the case of the latter, as the whole purpose of the invasion is to place us in a better position to attack Poland before the end of the year.”
Abrienda stopped eating. She breathed deeply and sighed. “That’s that. I can’t say ‘surprise, because I’m not. And now, for your ’confession’?”
“A moment, please. This must be very bad news for you, and I didn’t enjoy giving it to you. I think we could both use a drink.”
Abrienda nodded, and von Braband ordered two cognacs. “Abrienda… if you have not yet arranged an escape for yourself, I can arrange one for you. You need only to ask.”
“Thank you, Count von Braband. I have something planned for that… eventuality.” Abrienda took a cigar from her case and offered the open case to the Count who took one.
“You have chosen a dangerous course, Count von Braband. I am left wondering, why?”
“I explained it to you before, I think. Also, there are times when every man with an imagination must choose his side. Either way, he loses something. It is the choosing of sides, the process of choosing, that truly matters.” He paused and studied his drink for a moment before continuing.
“I was going to tell you something of a personal nature, but now think it best to wait until this terrible situation we both find ourselves confronting is resolved.”
Abrienda tilted her head and gave von Braband a mischievous smile. “That may take quite some time. Maybe that time will never come, and you will never have told me. Wouldn’t that be rather sad?”
“Perhaps, yet may be just as well,” the Count said. “I make you a solemn promise to bring it up the first day we meet under happier circumstances.”
Von Braband looked around the room, as if looking for a reason to remain longer, yet could find none.
“So… we’re finished,” he said and rose to help Abrienda with her chair. He stood close behind her, breathing her in, her perfume, her scent, what he later referred to as her essence. When he helped her put on her coat, the knuckles of his hands brushed across her shoulders and suddenly he wanted everything to stop, to start all over again, to do it right this time. He felt the impulse to tell her that he loved her, that he adored her, that he would give up everything he had for her, as he had intended to do, but as they prepared to leave the restaurant, he decided it was too late. There would be a chance in the future but no, not now.
The manager hailed a cab, and as it pulled up alongside Abrienda extended an ungloved hand. “Thank you, Count von Braband. We will meet again and soon!”
The Count took Abrienda’s hand, kissed it very slowly, opened the car door, and helped her inside. She spoke briefly to the cabbie, and as the car drove off, Abrienda turned and waved goodbye through the rear window.
The count stood on the pavement, watching as Abrienda’s face grew smaller and smaller within the elongated frame of the passenger window until at last, it disappeared.
He lit a cigarette, turned and walked away.
Abrienda returned home to find Nika waiting. She had just returned from the embassy where various false entry and exit stamps had been placed in Abrienda’s forged passport.
“Tomorrow morning? Thank God. Good thing I got this done today!” She handed Abrienda her “validated” Hungarian passport.
“It’s excellent workmanship,” Nika said, comparing the false stamps with the authentic ones in Abrienda’s Czechoslovak passport. “I see a whole new future of criminal enterprise opening up before my eyes.”
“Of course you do,” Abrienda said, smiling slyly. “Everyone knows Hungarians are born counterfeiters and criminals.” She went to her closet and selected two pieces of luggage for the journey. “Comes with your Oriental heritage. You’re all really Mongols, anyway; you just got here a little ahead of the real ones.”
“My Oriental heritage, Miss Abrienda de Soza of Japan, China, and the East Indies?” Nika replied.
Abrienda furrowed her brow, as if thinking. “Well, I do admit to living in parts of Asia… as a child.” She took a favorite jacket and put it in the suitcase. “That’s not quite the same as riding all the way west into Europe from the motherfucking Volga, raping, pillaging, and sabering decent, humble, Godfearing Christian folk like myself as you go, all the while drinking horse’s milk. La-la-la-la-la… LA!” and stamped her foot on the final “la.”
“I’ll show you what we did after we got here from the Volga!” Nika said.
Sergei thought he might need help getting Abrienda out of what remained of her country and asked Captain Dementyev to accompany them who, once he found out the nature of the journey, gladly offered his services, mostly animated by a desire to see Nika again. As for Nika herself, she had to admit to feeling better that a man as capable as the captain was coming along for the ride. She also felt his Italian passport added verisimilitude to their story about being a party of well-heeled foreigners escaping to the safety of Poland.
The plan was to stay in Hradec for two days while Nika helped Abrienda collect those things she could not bear to leave without and Sergei and Dementyev stayed in the guest apartments above.
Next morning, Slovakia declared independence. The man who replaced Benes as President of the so-called Second Republic, a jurist by the name of Emil Hácha, whose most significant accomplishment had been translating “Three Men in a Boat” by Jerome J. Jerome into Czech without losing the flavor of its uniquely English humor, immediately called upon the signatories of the Munich Agreement for their intervention to and preserve Czech sovereignty. Britain’s ambassador responded by advising Hacha to travel to Berlin and request another of the signatories, namely Reichskanzler Adolf Hitler, to help bring an end to the crisis.
Over dinner, Sergei and Dementyev laid out their route to Poland one last time. As Abrienda had a final piece of business to settle in the town of Frýdek Místek, they would drive east-southeast then north to the Polish border through the small but picturesque town of Oswiecim, or Auschwitz in German. “Once there it should take us another two hours to get you safely to Krakow,” Dementyev said, raising his glass to Abrienda, who gracefully returned the gesture. “With luck, we’ll have you there in time for an early dinner.”
Later, when they were alone, Nika’s mood brightened.
“I am not worried about tomorrow, nor anything else any longer,” Nika said. “We will cross the frontier tomorrow. Communicating, even visiting between Krakow and Budapest will not be difficult once things quiet down. In fact, we’ll be nearer to each other than before. Best of all, you will be safe and protected by true friends. Then we can see about putting our lives back together.” She buried her face in her hands.
“My God, I have been so afraid for you.”
Abrienda rose and crossed the room to the phonograph and put on the record Nika bought for them in Brussels. She stood there, without speaking, until “Parlez Moi D’amour” began to play.
“Care to dance, Miss Molnar?” Abrienda said and turned to face her, arms akimbo.
Nika took Abrienda in her arms. “With pleasure. But my friends call me Nika, good looking!”
The morning was cold, with thin patches of ice on the ground and occasional snow flurries. Abrienda took her photos, the framed portrait of Gajda, her father’s letters and enough clothes to see her through her first few days of exile in Poland. “Four pieces of luggage, a cigar case, lighter, and favorite purse,” she said wistfully to Dementyev as he put her things into the car trunk.
“I see you like to travel light, Miss de Soza,” he replied.
“This is my first time going into exile. Am I taking enough to survive it?”
“I am not the right man to ask. Everything I took during my first exile from Russia ended up at the bottom of Lake Baikal. The second time, when I was fleeing Harbin, everything I owned was again lost when the train I was on switched sides halfway through the journey and joined the opposing warlord!”
He lifted the last bag into the trunk and slammed it shut. “To my experienced eye, it looks like you’re already doing better than I have so far!”
“Thank you, captain. You’ve cheered me up. I am glad you offered to come along. I see why Nika called you charming.”
Dementyev looked at her with surprise. “She did, did she?”
Abrienda smiled and shrugged. “Well, in her own way.”
She went back to the house and stood in the doorway. Nika joined her. “Everything is ready. When is von Braband taking possession?” “Later today,” Abrienda replied.
“We were always happy here, no?”
Nika smiled. “Yes, very. We will be again, you’ll see!”
She gazed inside one last time, as if committing everything to memory.
“Abri, we’ve got to go!”
“Yes, we must,” she said and closed the door behind her.
Abrienda and Nika climbed into the car and headed for Poland. One hour later, the German army crossed the border into what remained of Czechoslovakia.
The town of Frýdek-Místek was home to the 8th Infantry Regiment and 12th Machine Gun Company. Both units were quartered in the Čajánek’s Barracks, a 15 solid, two-story building from the time of the Austro-Hungarian Empire still wearing a coat of faded Austrian Imperial yellow paint. Persistent rumors the Poles planned to seize the industrial city of Ostrava led to 15 officers from the garrison being ordered to attend Polish lessons conducted in the chaplain’s office by a professor of languages from a nearby university in case rumors became reality.
“I can’t see the point in this,” Lieutenant Karel Martinek complained as they filed into the makeshift classroom. “Polish is close enough to Czech that we mostly understand each other and if the Poles do invade won’t be doing much talking to them anyway!”
Thirty minutes into the lesson, there was a knock on the door and sergeant Sýkora entered.
“Captain Pavlik, there is a serious matter requiring your immediate attention!”
“Excuse me, professor,” the captain managed to say in Polish and quickly left the room.
“Well done, sergeant!” he said. “Ten more minutes and I would have deserted to the Germans!”
“My pleasure, sir, but I do have a reason to get you. There is a well-dressed and determined young lady at the gate demanding to see you.” The captain put the back of his hand under his chin. “Would you say about this tall, sergeant?” “Yes, without the fedora,” he replied.
Pavlik struck his open palm with his fist. “I only know one woman like that!” he said and strode out the building.
“Abri!” he shouted as the gate swung open and rushed to kiss her hand. “You never forget anything, do you!”
“Not something this important,” she said as Pavlik showed her into his office. “I am leaving for Poland but have something to give you first.”
Abrienda pulled a thick envelope from her coat pocket. “I was going to loan you the money to rebuild your house, but since that’s all gone, here is the money to buy a new one!”
Pavlik shook his head. “Abri…”
“Sorry, Karel, I don’t have time to argue. Tomorrow morning, I must wake up in Krakow.”
“Alright then…” Pavlik said and shook his head in frustration. “Thank you, thank you very much.”
“Don’t be too thankful. It’s still a loan, payable the day the Germans are driven out,” she said, handing him a card. “This gentleman in Prague should be able to help you if you wish to make that day come sooner.”
“Herr Bohm…” he read aloud then stuck the card in his tunic pocket. “Good, I like old books. Thanks!” and kissed her on the check.
He pulled a map from his drawer. “Something strange is going on today. Word is the Poles are about to invade us, but I’m betting it’s the Germans.”
He motioned Abrienda over and began drawing on the map. “There are three different routes from here to the Polish border. The one on the left will get you there quickest but is the closest to where the Germans will come if they decide to pay us a call. This one on the right is the safest, but being furthest east and with the worst roads would add at least an hour to your drive. The one in between is just that; not particularly good, not particularly bad.”
Pavlik folded the map and stuffed it into Abrienda’s coat pocket. “That will be three koruny, please.”
Abrienda laughed. “Just deduct it from the first repayment.”
“That’s why you’re a successful businesswoman.” Pavlik said, then placed his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you so much, Abri. We will see each other again… let’s go.”
“Greetings, Captain!” Nika shouted when she saw the two coming out the main gate.
“Nika!” Pavlik shouted back. “Where’s your Bergmann? You might need it today.”
She laughed. “In the shop—repairs!”
“Make sure they find you a second drum!” Pavlik replied and stopped at the gate.
“Abri… once more, thank you,” and kissed her on the cheek. “Jdi s Bohem, paní.”
Sergei and Dementyev decided that with night fast approaching they would play safe and take the second of the three routes. Their passengers bundled themselves up in the backseat and were soon asleep. Half an hour later, the two men heard heavy gunfire and explosions coming from Frýdek-Místek.
Night fell. Nika and Abrienda were dozing in the backseat. “We left that place none too soon,” Dementyev said. “Sounded like mortars and heavy machine guns soon after we left.”
Sergei nodded. “Just so long as it’s coming from behind us, not the front.” “Looks like something is in front of us now,” his friend replied.
A German motorcycle and its side car appeared in the car headlights, stuck in the mud at the side of the road.
Dementyev leaned over the front seat. “Gardez-vous, mes petites!” he cautioned, waking them. He heard Nika say,”Never a dull moment with you, girly!” followed by the reassuring sound of two pistols chambering rounds as Sergei eased the car to the side of the road and got out.
“There are some German motorcyclists stuck in a ditch up ahead. Maybe we can find out where their friends are. Miss de Soza, you’re the only person here they’d be interested in, so please stay inside. Nika?”
“I’ll come… a woman with you will make things look more innocent.”
Dementyev opened the door and saw Nika kiss Abrienda on the mouth then swing herself out of the car.
“Just a moment,” she said and appeared to be fumbling with something inside her right coat pocket. “Okay, ready,” and she and Dementyev walked towards the stranded motorcycle.
Sergei had managed to pull the cycle half-way out of the mud when one of the Germans shouted jovially “Excellent! Reinforcements have come!”
“I see you are very fond of Miss de Soza,” Dementyev said.
“That’s a fair statement,” Nika replied. “She’s my stepsister, after all. We are very close.”
“Yes,” he replied. “Somewhat closer than I thought. You armed?”
“There’s a convincer in my left suit pocket.”
“Sorry?”
“Never mind,” she said. Nika waved to Sergei and shouted, “Help from Hungary has arrived!”
“You are friends indeed! Leutnant Kurt Dreschner,” the officer replied with a sharp click of his heels. “This is koporal Henke. We drove over some ice and flew off the road into this cursed ditch.”
Henke was staring at Nika, a knowing smile on his face.
“I see the manners they teach officers in the German army does not extend to it’s non-commissioned ones,” Dementyev said.
“What is this, koporal!” the lieutenant demanded.
“Nothing, sir. I was just going to ask this ‘lady’ how she and her friend enjoyed their visit to Varnsdorf!”
In a fluid half-circle motion, Nika pulled the knife out of her coat pocket and drove the blade into the side of his neck severing the jugular vein while Dementyev drew his pistol, stuck the muzzle flush against Dreschner’s chest and shot him in the heart.
Nika looked at Dementyev and gave a sigh of relief. “Luckily, he was wearing a heavy coat,” Dementyev said, “It muffled the sound of the gunshot.” He stepped over and appraised Nika’s handiwork.
“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” He bent down, retrieved the knife from the hapless corporal’s neck and handed it to Nika. “Interesting looking weapon. What’s it called?”
“It’s called a navaja laguiole,” Abrienda said, coming up behind them. “A kind of clasp knife common to the Massif Central in the south of France. The shape of the handle is made to resemble a woman’s leg.”
Nika was knelling over a patch of snow, cleaning the blood from the blade. “Yes. And the fastening pins on the handle make the sign of the cross. It’s the weapon of choice for French criminals.”
“True!” Abrienda continued, tears in her eyes. “Three years ago, a young woman was murdered in the Paris Metro with the same kind of knife, the same kind of way.”
Nika reclasped the knife, stood up and shoved it back into her coat pocket. “Exactly the same way!” she replied defiantly, facing her lover. “What of it? Tonight, it killed a German soldier who recognized me from the day I was with you at Varnsdorf.”
Sergei had thrown Dreschner’s body into the ditch. “The Germans will think it’s partisans. Our late Lieutenant told us they’d strayed beyond the zone they were supposed to occupy and were lost. He said his comrades would occupy the entire country by midnight. He took the unlucky corporal along because he spoke some Czech.” Dementyev pushed the corporal’s body into the ditch with his foot. It slid next to that of the lieutenant. “Let’s go.”
Nika put her arm around Abrienda, and they walked silently back to the car.
They reached the Polish border a little over an hour later. “Anything for our Hungarian brothers… and sisters!” the commander of the border post told them “In fact, you left just in time. The German army is occupying the whole wretched country. Come morning the soldiers on the opposite side will be wearing feldgrau!“
Sergei was ready to drive on to Krakow, but Dementyev suggested the following morning would be better and they should instead find a hotel in the nearby town for the night.
“Thank you, Captain,” Abrienda said. “That’s most considerate. There is also something I need to do if the Germans are on the border tomorrow.”
The inn was small and clean and Abrienda and Nika took a room together. Abrienda was sitting on the bed and Nika came and sat beside her. They didn’t speak. They stayed that way until, finally, Nika broke the silence.
“The world as it has become and the part we wish to play in it will require us to do terrible things we would never do normally.” Nika reached over and pulled Abrienda close.
“We are trying to survive a living nightmare. Trust me, Abri. We will survive it together.”
Abrienda ran her fingers through Nika’s hair. “I’ve become an exile. I have no home, but I have the will to fight, and I have you. That will be enough, no matter how long or how terrible it is.” She rose and turned off the light.
Abrienda and Nika staying in bed until a little after 8 am. Sergei and the captain met them for breakfast an hour later, having spent much of the evening drinking and playing cards with the owner and appearing none the worse for it.
“I’d like to accompany you to Krakow, if I may,” Dementyev said. “Prague’s new tenants may also not appreciate some of my recent business ventures. I want things to calm down a bit first.”
“I was wondering about that,” Abrienda said. “You’re welcome, of course. Will you return to Italy?”
“For a brief time, yes,” he replied. He smiled at Nika. “Who knows? Perhaps I should move my business to Budapest? What do you think of that, Miss Molnar?”
“Best you didn’t know,” Nika advised. “Anyway, I’ll be saying in Krakow for two weeks. That should give you and Sergei time to investigate every high and low-brow White Russian establishments in the city at leisure.” Dementyev laughed. “Thanks… I prefer the middle-brow ones myself!”
Does nothing discourage this man? Nika thought.
“Did you say two weeks?” Abrienda asked as they walked to the car.
“Yes. I telegrammed Victor before we left Prague.” She squeezed Abrienda’s arm. “Two weeks and three days, to be exact. Maybe four.”
“Even better!” she said. “It’s nearly 10 o’clock. The Germans should be at the border by now. Would you please have Sergei drive me back to where we crossed? There is something I must do there.”
When they returned to the border post, it was clear new owners had moved in on the other side. A lieutenant waved the car to a halt.
“Pardon me,” the officer said and saluted. “The border is closed.” He pointed behind him. “That lot showed up early morning. Seems Czechoslovakia is finished— and good riddance!”
“Thank you, sir,” and Abrienda fixed her hat and gloves. “That is the Polish border, clearly marked on the left, yes?”
“Yes, lady. If you wish to have a look, you cannot possibly miss it,” he replied. “Nor can they. Shall I escort you?”
Abrienda stepped out of the car. “No, I can find it, thank you.” She walked straight to the edge of Polish territory and started waving at the German sentries on the other side. When she caught their attention, she threw her arms wide open and addressed them in German.
“Listen, swine!” she shouted. “My name is Abrienda de Soza. Goddamn you, Goddamn your Führer, and Goddamn your country to Hell! Every night I will pray God I live to see Germany destroyed, it’s cities in ruins and the German people made beggars groveling at our feet!” and ground the toe of her boot into the earth for emphasis.
Two German guards unslung their rifles and came forward. The more numerous Polish soldiers who were enjoying the show responded by pointing their weapons at the Germans.
“Not so fast! Not so fast!” the Polish lieutenant called out and a German officer ran to the scene and ordered his men to sling arms. He then elegantly apologized to his counterpart in Polish for his men’s overreaction.
Abrienda turned on her heel and started back to the car. She felt wonderful and strangely free from the terrible strain of the past few years. For her, the war had now truly begun.
At she approached the Polish soldiers guarding the border they began to cheer. Abrienda stopped, doffed her fedora, executed a cross-legged theatrical bow, straightened herself, then took the opening steps of a mazurka in 3/4 time. The soldiers laughed, applauded and cheered again.
The lieutenant now stepped forward and began to sing:
“Kalina, malina, blossomed in the woods!
Kalina, malina, blossomed in the woods!“
The soldiers joined in:
“Many a young girl did love an uhlan!
And she fancied an uhlan—she loved an uhlan!
and wrote him such tender letters!“
Abrienda laughed, blowing the soldiers a kiss as they sang, took off her hat and continued dancing the mazurka.
“Lieutenant sir, let me go home!
Because my girl bore me a son,
’I’ll let you go home, but not alone,
I’ll have a black horse saddled-up for you,
A black horse with golden reins,
So you may thrill your sweetheart’s heart!“
When the song finished Abrienda again bowed to the applause of the soldiers. She returned to the car where Nika embraced her and Dementyev kissed her hand. “Bravo! I only wish I’d had a movie camera!”
Abrienda saw Sergei looking at her expressionless.
“Sergei Arkadyevich, would you please drive me to Krakow now?”