Night of Flames: A Novel of World War II (16 page)

“What?”

“I’m serious. Things will be very diffi cult for her now. For one thing, she’s just lost her livelihood. She probably won’t be able to keep her apartment. But, more important, if they’re shutting down Jewish businesses there’s no telling what may happen next. They’ll be safer staying with me.”

“Papa, are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. I’ve got plenty of room, and Janina would love to have them around. Irene can be a big help.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Anna said, looking around. She lowered her voice. “It could be dangerous for you.”

“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them they work for me; they’re housekeepers.”

She looked at him, skeptically.

“There’s no other choice. Let’s go get them.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

That evening Janina prepared a simple meal of beef stew for the new extended family. Afterward, Thaddeus sat at the table, drinking coffee with Anna. Justyn had gone upstairs to do his schoolwork, and Irene was in the kitchen helping Janina with the dishes. Thaddeus handed the seminar invitation to Anna. She read it then looked up, frowning. “A seminar? What’s this all about?”

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

Irene came in from the kitchen. “What is it?” she asked. Anna handed her the card. Irene read it and shook her head. “I don’t understand . . . the philosophy of the German Reich toward the sciences? Are they serious?”

Anna pushed her coffee cup aside. “I don’t understand either. Papa, who else got this?”

Thaddeus shrugged. “Apparently all professors and department heads at the university. Other than that, I don’t know.”

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Irene pulled out a chair and sat down. “Certainly you’re not thinking of going, are you?”

Thaddeus glanced at her. “Word came down from the Rector that attendance is mandatory.”

Anna and Irene stared at each other.

“I’m sure he wasn’t given a choice,” Thaddeus said.

Anna gripped her father’s arm. “Papa, I have a bad feeling about this. I really don’t think you should go.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. My guess is they want a captive audience so they can strut around and impress us with how advanced they are and tell us how lucky
we
are to have them taking over. What else could it possibly be?”

Anna shook her head. “God only knows. I don’t trust them. Just sitting in the same room with the vile creatures would make my skin crawl.”

“That’s probably why they didn’t invite you.”

“Don’t joke about it,” she exclaimed. “They’re up to something.”

Thaddeus took his daughter’s hand. “No, it’s not a joke. It’s tragic. It’s tragic that we have to go and listen to them lecture us about their magnifi cent new society while they’re murdering our countrymen.” He glanced at Irene. “It’s tragic that they’re here at all. But that’s what’s happened.”

Irene leaned across the table, her eyes wide. “Thaddeus, Anna’s right. You can’t—”

“I have no choice,” he interrupted. “The Rector made that quite clear. I’m certain that the SS or the Gestapo, or whoever the hell is organizing this told him that they expect a full turnout. And I’m not going to put him in jeopardy.”

Thaddeus could see the frustration in his daughter’s eyes as Anna got up and carried her empty cup to the kitchen. He glanced at Irene who slumped back in the chair, shaking her head.

Anna returned to the dining room and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re right, Papa . . . the whole thing is an absolute tragedy. I’m going home to bed.”

At 7:45 on the night of the seminar, Thaddeus, Bujak and Fryderyk Wawrzyn walked up the tree-lined pathway leading to the Collegium Novum, the main building of Jagiellonian University. At each of the fi ve archways framing the entrance of the neo-Gothic structure, black-uniformed SS troopers stood at 98

Douglas W. Jacobson

attention. Thaddeus followed his colleagues up the steps and into the building.

They proceeded across the atrium and entered the Lectures Hall. He was not surprised to see the large red fl ag, with the now all too familiar white circle and black swastika, hanging from the stage.

As they made their way down the left aisle, Thaddeus looked around the auditorium, recognizing many of his colleagues from the university as well as a number of professors from other colleges in the area. He spotted the headmasters from some of the local vocational schools and several bankers, doctors, business-owners and lawyers. He guessed there were close to two hundred in all, most of them looking around the room nodding and smiling but not saying much.

As they took their seats, Wawrzyn leaned over and whispered, “Rather a subdued group, wouldn’t you say?”

Thaddeus nodded. “That goddamn fl ag will do it.”

“Perhaps they should have provided champagne,” Bujak said, a little louder than necessary. The comment drew some smiles and nods from the men seated in front of them.

At exactly eight o’clock, the house lights dimmed and a spotlight shown on the podium in the center of the stage. An SS offi cer stepped briskly across the stage to the podium.

“Hun effi ciency, right on time,” Bujak whispered.

The offi cer looked over the crowd and began speaking in German. “
Guten
Abend, ich bin
SS-Sturmbannfuhrer Mueller. I represent the German Reich, which has rescued the Polish people by overthrowing their corrupt and war-mongering government.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Dozens of men translated for those who didn’t speak German.

Sturmbannfuhrer Mueller continued, “Under the enlightened guidance of the Reich, the New Poland will be transformed into a model society of workers freed from this yoke of oppression.”

Bujak nudged Thaddeus with his elbow. “What the hell is this garbage?”

Mueller paused and looked over the audience, his bearing erect and deliberate. Then he thumped his hand on the podium. “For many years, this university and other institutions within the city of Krakow have been guilty of subver-sion and anti-German activity. This treasonous behavior will no longer be tolerated.”

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The murmuring grew louder. A knot formed in Thaddeus’s stomach.

At the podium, Mueller looked up and glanced at the back of the room. He nodded.

Thaddeus jumped in his seat as the doors at the back of the room banged open.

The house lights brightened, and two columns of SS troopers carrying submachine guns stomped into the auditorium. The black-clad troopers marched up the aisles, did an abrupt turn and stood facing the stunned audience.

Mueller declared, “You are all under arrest!”

The audience erupted. Dozens of men leaped from their seats shouting at the SS offi cer.

“You can’t do that!”

“We’ve done nothing wrong!”

“It’s against the law!”

A man sitting behind Thaddeus leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder.

“What did he say? I can’t understand.”

Thaddeus was about to translate for him when Mueller screamed from the podium, “
Ruhe jetzt!
Silence!”

The room instantly fell silent.

“Setzen Sie!”
he shouted. The SS troopers leaned into the rows, pointing submachine guns at a few shaken men still standing. They slumped into their seats.

“You are prisoners of the German Reich,” Mueller said, his tone of voice lower but cold and menacing. “Do exactly as you are told and no harm will come to you. Anyone who tries to escape will be shot!”

Murmurs and groans rippled through the audience, excited voices translat-ing. The man behind Thaddeus tugged at his shoulder.

“Ruhe!”
Mueller commanded. “From this point on, none of you are allowed to speak!” Anyone who disobeys my orders will be shot! Beginning with the front row, you will stand and fi le out the back of the auditorium. There are trucks waiting outside. Do not speak to anyone, and do not attempt to escape or you will be shot.”

Thaddeus’s stomach heaved. He swallowed hard and clenched his hands together, praying he wouldn’t get sick. He glanced at Bujak. His burly friend’s face was red with rage, sweat dripping from his forehead. When it came time for their row to fi le out, Bujak hoisted his bulky body out of the seat then 100

Douglas W. Jacobson

rocked back on his heels, bumping into Thaddeus. Thaddeus put a hand on his back to steady him, but an SS trooper reached over and grabbed Bujak by the collar.

“
Raus!
Raus!
Move it, fat ass!” the trooper snarled, pulling him into the aisle.

Bujak jerked away, mumbling something under his breath.

The trooper instantly jabbed him in the back with the butt of the submachine gun. Bujak grunted and staggered forward, grabbing the shoulder of the man in front of him.

Thaddeus quickly stepped into the aisle in front of the SS trooper and gripped Bujak under the arm to steady him as they proceeded toward the door.

Outside the building a line of green-uniformed Feldgendarmes barked orders and swung nightsticks, herding the bewildered crowd toward a convoy of canvas-covered trucks. Thaddeus kept a grip on Bujak’s arm, praying his profusely sweating friend wouldn’t stumble. When Bujak attempted to climb into the truck, his foot slipped off the bumper and he fell heavily on the cobblestones. Thaddeus reached for him, but a Feldgendarme charged in and shoved him aside. The German policeman swung his nightstick and brought it down in a crushing blow on Bujak’s shoulder. Without thinking, Thaddeus jumped in front of the Feldgendarme and gripped Bujak under the arms. Another man grabbed Bujak around the waist and they hoisted him into the truck.

Thaddeus scrambled into the truck after his friend, expecting the crunch of a nightstick to come any second. Holding Bujak up, he stumbled forward in the dark canvas enclosure, pushed along by the bodies being shoved in behind them. The Feldgendarme jumped up on the bed of the truck and ordered everyone to sit on the fl oor. He swatted two men standing near him who didn’t react soon enough. Thaddeus was shoved against a metal railing at the front of the truck and had to kick the man in front of him to avoid getting crushed.

Bujak collapsed heavily at his side. The Feldgendarme jumped to the ground and pulled a curtain across the back of the truck.

Chapter 17

Anna awoke early. The telephone rang just as she climbed out of bed.

Glancing at the brass clock on her bed table, she hurried to the hallway and picked up the phone. It was a few minutes past six.

The voice on the other end was frantic. “Anna, something has happened . . .

I don’t know . . . he didn’t . . .”

Anna could barely understand. “Irene? Slow down. What is it?”

A deep breath, then, “Anna, your father . . . I don’t know what . . .”

“Irene! What are you talking about?”

“Last night, the seminar . . . he never came home.”

The fog of sleep lifted quickly as Anna remembered the seminar. “He didn’t come home?”

“No. But it wasn’t very late and we went to bed. But this morning—”

“Irene, stop! Stop and take a breath and tell me slowly exactly what happened.”

A pause. Then Irene’s voice, quieter. “He hadn’t come home by the time we went to bed, but it wasn’t very late, so I didn’t think much about it. But, when we didn’t see him this morning I . . . Oh, God, Anna, I’m sorry.” A deep breath. “His hat and coat weren’t hanging on the hook in the hallway. I knocked on his door, but he wasn’t there. They’ve done something, Anna!”

Anna stepped backward, leaning against the wall, staring at the beige and gold fl oral print of the wallpaper, trying to think. “Irene, listen to me. Perhaps he got into an accident. Maybe he was injured on the tram. He might have been taken to a hospital. I’ll make some calls and—”

“Anna, Dr. Bujak is missing too.”

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Douglas W. Jacobson

“He is? How do you know?”

“Just as I was going to call you, the telephone rang. It was Mrs. Bujak. She wanted to know if your father was home.”

Anna slumped to the oak parquet fl oor. It wasn’t making sense.

“Anna? Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” Anna heard her own voice as if from a distance. “I don’t know what’s going on . . . I’ve got to think . . . I’ve . . . got to make some calls.

I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

“What could have happened? What—”

“I don’t know what happened!” Anna snapped, interrupting her friend. She paused and closed her eyes. “Irene, I don’t know what happened. I’ll make some calls. Look after Janina, I’m sure she’s pretty upset. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

Anna’s knees were weak as she got to her feet and hung up the phone. She put a hand on the wall and breathed slowly, in and out, her eyes resting on the walnut shelf above the phone table. She reached out and slid a fi nger gently over the smooth surface of the cut-glass model of a hand that rested on the shelf along with her Hummel collection. It was the symbol of Antwerp, a gift from the Leffards when she graduated from university. Her father had been so proud.

She shook her head, wiping away a tear, and stepped unsteadily into the small, tiled kitchen, opened the cupboard and took out a glass. She tried fi lling it with water, but her hands were shaking so badly that the glass slipped and shattered in the sink among last night’s dirty dishes.

She slumped into one of the arrow-back chairs and propped her elbows on the walnut pedestal table her father had given her and Jan as a wedding present. Who could she call? No one would be at the university at this hour.

Think! Think!
A name came to mind: Wawrzyn, a friend of her father’s. What was his fi rst name? Fryderyk, that was it! Fryderyk Wawrzyn. He was some type of lawyer for the city. Would he have been at the meeting?

She ran to the hall table, grabbed the telephone book and ripped through the pages.

A woman answered on the fi rst ring. “Hello?” Her voice was tentative, nervous.

“Is this Mrs. Wawrzyn?” Anna asked, forcing herself to speak calmly.

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“Yes. Who is this?”

“Mrs. Wawrzyn, my name is Anna Kopernik. I’m Thaddeus Piekarski’s daughter.”